Hers are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering beauty's sovereign law
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm, —
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

Let others love the city,

And gaudy show at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moor
Fair beaming, and streaming,

Her silver light the boughs amang,
While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang. There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove By wimpling burn and leafy

shaw,

meandering

grove

And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

SAW YE MY PHELY?

Sept., 1794.

TUNE

When she cam ben she bobbit.

Он, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love, She winna come hame to her Willy.

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.

Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy..

Oct., 1794.

HOW LONG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT!

TUNE- Cauld Kail in Aberdeen.

I met with

"How long and dreary is the Night! some such words in a collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the other page."- Burns to Mr. Thomson, 19th Oct., 1794.

How long and dreary is the night
When I am frae my dearie!

I restless lie frae e'en to morn,

Though I were ne'er sae weary.

CHORUS.

For oh, her lanely nights are lang!

And oh, her dreams are eerie!
And oh, her widowed heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie!

When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie,
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie ?

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours!
The joyless day, how dreary!

It was na sae ye glinted by,

When I was wi' my dearie!

passed quickly

LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN.

TUNE-Duncan Gray.

"These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the language that I have of my native tongue. [In fact, I think my ideas are more barren in English than in Scotch.] I have been at

Duncan Gray, to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid."— Burns to Mr. Thomson, 19th Oct., 1794.

LET not woman e'er complain
Of inconstancy in love;
Let not woman e'er complain
Fickle man is apt to rove.
Look abroad through Nature's range,
Nature's mighty law is change;
Ladies, would it not be strange,

Man should then a monster prove?

Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow;
Sun and moon but set to rise,

Round and round the seasons go.

Why, then, ask of silly Man
To oppose great Nature's plan?
We'll be constant while we can-

You can be no more, you know.

THE LOVER'S MORNING-SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS.

TUNE- Deil tak the Wars.

These verses were inspired by "CHLORIS," the theme of a considerable number of Burns's songs at this period. Chloris was Jean Lorimer, daughter of a substantial farmer in the neighborhood of Dumfries, with whom Burns lived in intimate relations. She was at this time (Oct., 1794) just nineteen years of age, and was living apart from a spendthrift husband, of the name of Whelpdale, who had persuaded her into a Gretna Green marriage the year before. Her subsequent life was extremely unhappy. She is described as uncommonly beautiful, both in form and face.

SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy.
Now through the leafy woods,

And by the reeking floods,

Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;

The lintwhite in his bower

Chants o'er the breathing flower;

The lav'rock to the sky

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,

linnet

While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.