ON A PROCESSION OF THE ST. JAMES'S LODGE.

The St. James's Lodge at this time met in a small stifling back-room connected with the inn of the vil lage a humble cottage-like place of entertainment kept by one Manson. On the approach of St. John's Day, the 24th of June, when a procession of the lodge was contemplated, Burns sent a rhymed note on the subject to his medical friend Mr. Mackenzie, with whom, it may be explained, he had lately had some controversy on the origin of morals.

FRIDAY first's the day appointed
By the Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession;

To get a blad o' Johnnie's morals, liberal portion
And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels, sample
I' the way of our profession.

The Master and the Brotherhood

Would a' be glad to see you;

For me I would be mair than proud

To share the mercies wi' you.

entertainment

If Death, then, wi' skaith, then,

hurt

Some mortal heart is hechtin', threatening

Inform him, and storm him,

That Saturday you'll fecht him.

figh

ROBERT BURNS.

MOSSGIEL, An. M. 5790.

THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.

TUNE-Shawnboy.

Burns joined on at least one occasion in the festiv. ities of the Kilmarnock Lodge, presided over by his friend William Parker; on which occasion he produced an appropriate song.

YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;

Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.

I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion;

A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse, 'Tis seldom her favourite passion.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,

Who marked each element's border;

Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,
Whose sovereign statute is order;

Within this dear mansion may wayward Con tention

Or withered Envy ne'er enter;

May Secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And Brotherly Love be the centre.

THE BONNIE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.

The beautiful estate of Ballochmyle on the Ayr, near Mauchline, had recently been transferred from the Whitefoords to Mr. Claud Alexander, a gentleman well connected in the west of Scotland, who had realized a large fortune as paymaster-general of the East India Company's troops in Bengal. He had lately come to reside at the mansion-house. The steep

banks of the river at this place form a scene of natural loveliness which has few matches, and Burns loved to wander there. In an evening of early summer, Miss Wilhelmina Alexander, the sister of the new laird, walking out along the braes after dinner, encountered a plain-looking man in rustic attire, who appeared to be musing, with his shoulder leaning against a tree. According to her own account: “The grounds being forbidden to unauthorized strangers — the evening being far advanced, and the encounter very sudden she was startled, but instantly recov ered herself, and passed on." During his walk homeward Burns composed a song descriptive of the scene and the meeting.

'TWAS even

the dewy fields were green,

On every blade the pearls hang!1

The Zephyr wantoned round the bean,

And bore its fragrant sweets alang;
1 Hang, Scotticism for hung.

In every glen the mavis sang,

All nature listening seemed the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.

With careless step I onward strayed,
My heart rejoiced in Nature's joy.
When, musing in a lonely glade,

A maiden fair I chanced to spy.
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile,
Perfection whispered passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!1

Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in Autumn mild,
When roving through the garden gay,
Or wandering in the lonely wild:
But woman, Nature's darling child!
There all her charms she does compile:
Even there her other works are foiled
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Oh, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though sheltered in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotland's plain,

Variation

The lily's hue and rose's dye
Bespoke the lass o' Ballochmyle.

Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Then pride might climb the slippery steep, Where fame and honours lofty shine; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep, Or downward seek the Indian mine; Give me the cot below the pine,

To tend the flocks, or till the soil, And every day has joys divine

With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY.

(Between 3d and 16th August, 1786.)

FAREWELL, dear friend! may guid-luck hit you,
And 'mang her favourites admit you.
If e'er Detraction shore to smit you,
May nane believe him,

And ony deil that thinks to get you,

Good L-, deceive him.

threaten

R. B.