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II.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The plover loves the mountains ;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
The soaring hern the fountains :
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
The spreading thorn the linnet.

III.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;

Some social join, and leagues combine;

Some solitary wander :

Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,

Tyrannic man's dominion;

The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,

The flutt'ring, gory pinion.

IV.

But Peggy, dear, the ev'ning's clear,
Thick flies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All fading-green and yellow :
Come, let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature;

The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And every happy creature.

V.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
Not autumn to the farmer,

So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer!

The heroine of this song was "Montgomery's Peggy," who permitted the Poet to lavish on her all the choicest things of prose and verse, and then quietly said she was sorry her charms had made such havoc in his heart, for she was the lawful property of another, and had not the power of rewarding his raptures. The song is more beautiful than impassioned, and it is likely the Poet composed it less from deep regard than to shew that he could work her name as charmingly into the web of song, as he could captivate her attention by his eloquence.

THE RANTIN DOG THE DADDIE O'T.

Tune-"East nook o' Fife."

I.

O WHA my babie-clouts will buy?
O wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me where I lie ?-

The rantin dog the daddie o't.

II.

O wha will own he did the fau't?
O wha will buy the groanin' maut?
O wha will tell me how to ca't?-

The rantin dog the daddie o't.

III.

When I mount the creepie chair,
Wha will sit beside me there?
Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair,

The rantin dog the daddie o't.

IV.

Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will mak me fidgin fain?
Wha will kiss me o'er again?

The rantin dog the daddie o't.

The hapless heroine of this humorous ditty was the mother of "Sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess.”—“ I composed it," says the Poet, "pretty early in life, and sent it to a young girl, a very particular acquaintance of mine, who was at that time under a cloud."

Our old songs abound in allusions to the "creepie chair" and penitence in sackcloth. Burns, who modelled his strains on the rustic lyrics of the north, has shown more than their wit, with something of their indelicacy. One Nithsdale ditty commences thus

"I am a silly auld man,

Gaun hirplin' owre a tree;
And for wooing a lass i' the dark
The kirk came haunting me.

"If a' my duds were aff,

An' nought but hale claes on,
I trow I could kiss a young lass
As weel as a wiser man."

Pennycuik, a bard who has scarcely ceased to be popular among the peasantry, wrote "Rome's Legacy to the Kirk of Scotland; or, a Satire on the Stool of Repentance." Some of his verses are sharp and bitter: he places a sinner on the stool, and makes no little mirth with him.

MY HEART WAS ANCE.

Tune-" To the Weavers gin ye go.”

I.

My heart was ance as blythe and free
As simmer days were lang,

But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.

To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
To the weavers gin ye go;

I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
To the weavers gin ye go.

II.

My mither sent me to the town,
To warp a plaiden wab;

But the weary, weary warpin o't
Has gart me sigh and sab.

III.

A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
Sat working at his loom;
He took my heart as wi' a net,
In every knot and thrum.

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