How long I have lived- but how much lived in vain ! How little of life's scanty span may remain ! What aspects Old Time, in his progress, has worn! What ties cruel Fate in my bosom has torn! How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gained! And downward, how weakened, how darkened, how pained! This life's not worth having with all it can give: For something beyond it poor man sure sure must live. I HAE A WIFE O' MY AIN. We may well believe that it was a time of great happiness to Burns when he first saw his mistress installed in her little mansion, and felt himself the master of a household, however humble - looked up to by a wife as "the goodman," and by a host of dependants as "the master." His sentiments on this occasion were in part expressed by the following vig. orous and characteristic, though not very delicate ver ses. They are in imitation of an old ballad. I HAE a wife o' my ain, I'll partake wi' naebody; I'll tak cuckold frae nane, I hae a penny to spend, I am naebody's lord, I'll be slave to naebody; I'll be merry and free, I'll be sad for naebody; If naebody care for me, blow AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wandered monie a weary foot, Sin' auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl'ti' the burn, Frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roared, Sin' auld lang syne. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere And gie's a hand o' thine; daisies companion And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, hearty pull For auld lang syne. And surely you'll be your pint-stoup, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet flagon 1 Burns came to indulge in little mystifications respecting his songs. Though in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop he speaks of Auld Lang Syne as an old fragment, and afterwards communicated it to George Thomson, with an expression of selfcongratulation on having been so fortunate as to recover it from an old man's singing, the second and third verses -those expressing the recollections of youth, and certainly the finest of the set- are by himself. So also of Go fetch to me pint of wine, he afterwards acknowledged that only the first MY BONNY MARY. Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, A service to my bonny lassie. Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry; The ship rides by the Berwick-Law,1 And I maun leave my bonny Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, verse (four lines) was old, the rest his own. The old verse was probably the same with one which occurs near the close of a homely ballad, printed in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of Burns, as preserved by Mr. Peter Buchan, who further communicates that the ballad was composed in 1636, by Alexander Lesly of Edin, on Doveran side, grandfather to the celebrated Archbishop Sharpe: "Ye'll bring me here a pint of wine, A server and a silver tassie, A health to my ain bonny lassie." 1 North Berwick-Law, a conical hill near the shore of the Firth of Forth, very conspicuous at Edinburgh, from which it s distant about twenty miles. The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody. Wad make me langer wish to tarry; LINES WRITTEN IN FRIARS' CARSE HERMITAGE. Extended Copy. THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost; 1 Hope not sunshine every hour, Fear not clouds will always lower. 1 In the shorter copy, an additional couplet is here in serted Day, how rapid in its flight! Day, how few must see the night! |