[Both air and chorus, here also, were of great antiquity. Burns, however, made them his

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and own by the following adaptation.]

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.

[This is a Jacobite song, the music of which was composed by Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edinburgh, and the words by his friend, the Ayrshire Ploughman. James Drummond, the son of Viscount Strathallan, who fell while leading a charge of cavalry at the fatal field of Culloden, is supposed to be the one whose voice gives utterance to this lamentation.]

Tune-"Strathallan's Lament."

THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,

Still surround my lonely cave!

Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of right engaged,

Wrongs injurious to redress, Honour's war we strongly wagèd,

But the heavens denied success.

Farewell, fleeting, fickle treasure,

'Tween Misfortune and Folly shared ! Farewell Peace, and farewell Pleasure! Farewell flattering man's regard!

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er me;

Nor dare my fate a hope attend; The wide world is all before meBut a world without a friend!

MY HOGGIE.

[Stephen Clarke, with the aid of his flute, caught up and musically noted down this beautiful old melody, which an old woman, now more than a hundred years ago, was heard

Mossplatt, in Liddesdale. That the following lines, adapted to the quaint old air, were really from the hand of Burns, we have the distinct assurance of Stenhouse.].

Tune-"What will I do gin my hoggie die?"

WHAT will I do gin my hoggie die?
My joy, my pride, my hoggie!
My only beast, I had nae mae,
And vow but I was vogie!

The lee-lang night we watched the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie:
We heard nought but the roaring linn
Amang the braes sae scroggie;

But the houlet cried frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod replied upon the hill:
I trembled for my hoggie.

When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggy;
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has killed my hoggie.

-0

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.

[The two stanzas alone are by Burns, the choral refrain appended to each being very ancient. As for the melody, which dates also from a remote past, it was an especial favourite of "England's Goneril," Mary, the Queen Consort of William of Orange. Purcell, in 1692, ingeniously employed it as a bass accompaniment to his Birthday Ode, "May her bright example chase."]

Tune-Up in the morning early."

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;

crooning to herself as she sat spinning one day Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast,

near her cottage door, at the little village of

I'm sure it's winter fairly.