Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

THE BANKS OF NITH.

TUNE - Robie donna Gorach.

THE Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,

Where Cummins ance had high command.
When shall I see that honoured land,
That winding stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here?

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom!
How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,

Where lambkins wanton through the broom!

Though wandering, now, must be my doom,
Far from thy bonny banks and braes,
May there my latest hours consume,
Amang the friends of early days!

MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE !

My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie!

Some counsel unto me come len',

To anger them a' is a pity,

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow

In poortith I might make a fen'; What care I in riches to wallow,

If I maunna marry Tam Glen?

sister

poverty-shift

There's Lowrie, the Laird o' Drumeller,

Guid-day to you, brute! he comes ben;

He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

in

My minnie does constantly deave me, mother-deafen And bids me beware o' young men ;

They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,

He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But if it's ordained I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen at the valentines' dealing,

My heart to my mou' gied a sten; bound

For thrice I drew ane without failing,

And thrice it was written - Tam Glen.

The last Halloween I was waukin

watching

wet

My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken; His likeness cam' up the house staukin, And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen!

Come counsel, dear tittie! don't tarry

I'll gie you my bonny black hen,

Gif ye

will advise me to marry

The lad I lo'e dearly-Tam Glen.

ELEGY ON PEG NICHOLSON,1

A DEAD MARE.

PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare,
As ever trode on airn;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
And past the mouth o' Cairn.

Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And rode through thick and thin;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
And wanting even the skin.

Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And ance she bore a priest;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.

Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And the priest he rode her sair;

And much oppressed and bruised she was,
As priest-rid cattle are.

iron

- etc., etc.

Feb. 9, 1790.

1 In burlesque allusion, it may be presumed, to the insane woman, Margaret Nicholson, who made an attempt to stab George III. with a knife, August, 1786.

WRITTEN TO A GENTLEMAN 1 WHO HAD SENT THE POET A NEWSPAPER,

AND OFFERED TO CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE.

KIND Sir, I've read your paper through,
And, faith, to me 'twas really new!

How guessed ye, sir, what maist I wanted?
This monie a day I've graned and

gaunted,

groaned

yawned

To ken what French mischief was brewin',
Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin'; muddy
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,

If Venus yet had got his nose off;
Or how the collieshangie works

Atween the Russians and the Turks;

Or if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the Twalt; 2
If Denmark, anybody spak o't;

contention

lease

Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't:
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin';
How libbet Italy was singin':

If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss,
Were sayin' or takin' aught amiss.

emasculated

1 Probably Mr. Peter Stuart, of the Star newspaper.

2 Gustavus III. had attracted considerable notice in 1789 by his vigorous measures against Russia, and the arrest of many of his nobility who disapproved of his measures.