And there's no a man in all Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.

I've lived a life of sturt and strife;

turmoil

I die by treacherie :

It burns my heart I must depart,

And not avenged be.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,

The wretch that dares not die!

STAY, my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!

Well you know how much you grieve me;
Cruel charmer, can you go?
Cruel charmer, can you go ?

By my love so ill requited,
By the faith you fondly plighted,
By the pangs of lovers slighted,
Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so!

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.

The individual here meant is William, fourth Viscount of Strathallan, who fell on the insurgent side at the battle of Culloden, April, 1746. Burns, probably ignorant of his real fate, describes him as having survived the action, and taken refuge from the fury of the government forces in a Highland fastness.

THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave! 1

Crystal streamlets gently flowing,

Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of right engagèd,
Wrongs injurious to redress,

1 Variation in MS. in possession of Mr. B. Nightingale,

Priory Road, London: :

"Thickest night, surround my dwelling!

Howling tempests, o'er me rave!

Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,

Roaring by my lonely cave!"

Honour's war we strongly wagèd,

But the heavens denied success.

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
Not a hope that dare attend:
The wide world is all before us
But a world without a friend!

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.

TUNE-Morag.

LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover;
Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young Highland Rover 1
Far wanders nations over.
Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden,
Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
And bonny Castle-Gordon!

The trees now naked groaning,

Soon shall wi' leaves be hinging,

1 The Highland Rover is evidently meant for Prince Charles Stuart.

sadly

The birdies dowie moaning,

Shall a' be blithely singing,

And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,

When by his mighty warden

My youth's returned to fair Strathspey,
And bonny Castle-Gordon.

RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING. TUNE- Macgregor of Ruara's Lament.

"I composed these verses on Miss Isabella M'Leod of Raasay, alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy death (1786) of her sister's husband, the late Earl of Loudon, who shot himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered owing to the deranged state of his finances." B.

RAVING winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella strayed deploring:

"Farewell hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure;
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!

"O'er the past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless future pondering,
Chilly Grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell Despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to Misery most distressing,
Gladly how would I resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee!"

MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.

TUNE Druimion Dubh.

"I composed these verses out of compliment to a Mrs. Maclachlan, whose husband is an officer in the East Indies." B.

MUSING on the roaring ocean,

Which divides my love and me,
Wearying Heaven in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be ;

Hope and Fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law,
Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow
Talk of him that's far awa'.