The morning rose untouch'd that stands,

Arm'd with her briers, and sweetly smells;
Once pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
No more that sweetness with her dwells:
Her leaves fall from her one by one,
And scent and beauty both are gone.]

Tune-"I do confess thou art sae fair."

I DO confess thou art sae fair,

I wad been o'er the lugs in luve,
Had I no found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak thy heart could

muve.

I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind,

That kisses ilka thing it meets.

See yonder rosebud, rich in dew,

Amang its native briers sae coy; How sune it tines its scent and hue

When pu'd and worn a common toy! Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide,

Though thou may gaily bloom awhile; Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside

Like ony common weed and vile.

AH, CHLORIS !

Although I love my Chloris mair
Than ever tongue could tell,
My passion I will ne'er declare,—
I'll say, I wish thee well.

Though a' my daily care thou art,
And a' my nightly dream,
I'll hide the struggle in my heart,
And say it is esteem.

YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.

[There exists great doubt as to who was really the heroine of the following stanzas, which, according to Burns's own assurance, bore allusion to an incident in his private history.]

Tune-"Yon wild mossy mountains."

YON wild mossy mountains, sae lofty and wide,

That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,

Where the grouse lead their coveys

through the heather to feed, And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

Where the grouse lead their coveys

through the heather to feed,

And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,

To me ha'e the charms o' yon wild mossy

[Chloris was the lassie wi' the lintwhite locks, or the fair one with the flaxen ringlets, already sung of by the Poet in Craigieburn. She was the ill-starred Jean Lorrimer, beloved by Mr. Gillespie but married to Mr. Whelpdale, by whom she was afterwards deserted, to end her days in For there, by a lanely, sequestered clear poverty and affliction.]

Tune-"Major Graham."

AH, Chloris! since it may na be

That thou of love wilt hear; If from the lover thou maun flee, Yet let the friend be dear.

moors,

stream,

Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and

my dream.

For there, by a lanely, sequestered clear

stream,

Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be And the heart-beating love, as I'm my path, clasped in her arms,

Ilk stream foaming down its ain green O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

narrow strath;

For there, wi' my lassie, the day-lang I

rove,

While o'er us, unheeded, flee the swift

hours o' love.

For there, wi my lassie, the day-lang I IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE

rove,

While o'er us, unheeded, flee the swift

hours o' love.

FACE.

[This was an English love song which Burns, according to his own acknowledgment, merely

She is not the fairest, although she is Scotticized.]
fair,

O' nice education but sma' is her share ;
Her parentage humble as humble can

be,

But I love the dear lassie because she lo'es

me.

Her parentage humble as humble can be,

But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es

me.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,

In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?

And when wit and refinement ha'e

polished her darts,

They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.

And when wit and refinement ha'e

polished her darts,

They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,

Has lustre outshining the diamond to me; And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasped in her arms,

O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

Tune-"The Maid's Complaint."

IT is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,

Nor shape, that I admire,
Although thy beauty and thy grace

Might weel awake desire.
Something, in ilka part o' thee,

To praise, to love, I find;
But, dear as is thy form to me,

Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenerous wish I ha’e,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than if I canna mak' thee sae,

At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if Heaven shall give

But happiness to thee:
And as wi' thee I'd wish to live,
For thee I'd bear to die.

She's down in the yard, she 's kissin' the Wha mak' ye sae like a thief?—
laird,
O, come and see, quo' Findlay;
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Before the morn ye 'll work mischief-
Rab.

O, come thy ways to me, my Eppie

M'Nab!

O, come thy ways to me, my Eppie
M'Nab!

Whate'er thou hast done, be it late, be it
soon,

Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock
Rab.

What says she, my dearie, my Eppie
M'Nab?

What says she, my dearie, my Eppie
M'Nab?

She lets thee to wit that she has thee
forgot,

And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock
Rab.

O, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie

M'Nab!

O, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie
M'Nab!

As light as the air, as fause as thou's

fair,

Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock
Rab.

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER

DOOR?

[This was suggested by an antique rhyme in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany.]

Tune-" Lass, an I come near thee." WHA is that at my bower door?

O, wha is, but Findlay?

Then gae your gate, ye'se no be here!-
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Gif I rise and let you in ?

Let me in, quo' Findlay;
Ye 'll keep me waukin wi' your din-
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

In my bower if ye should stay?—
Let me stay, quo' Findlay;
I fear ye'll bide till break o' day,—
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Here this night if ye remain,

I'll remain, quo' Findlay;
I dread ye 'll ken the gate again,—
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
What may pass within this bower,-

Let it pass, quo' Findlay;
Ye maun conceal till your last hour,—
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE
DO WI' AN AULD MAN?

[Mingling an atom of the alloy caught from "Auld Rob Morris" (to be found in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany) with his own pure metal, Burns rang out these now long famous verses like so many golden doubloons.]

Tune-"What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?"

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,

What can a young lassie do wi' an

auld man?

Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie

To sell her poor Jenny for siller an lan'!

Bad luck on the pennie, &c.

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.

e'enin',

He hosts and he hirples the weary day Wishfully I look and languish,
In that bonnie face o' thine;

lang; He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it And my heart it stounds wi' anguish, Lest my wee thing be na mine.

is frozen,

Beside me, gin the gloaming.
But he sae trig

Lap o'er the rig,
dawtingly did cheer me,
When I, what reck,
Did least expec'

To see my lad sae near me.

[At Friar's Carse, Burns was introduced, by And his friend Captain Riddel, to that "Charming, lovely Davies," in whose honour he wrote this delicious morsel of a lyric. His "little idol," as he called her-for she was as small as she was beautiful-died prematurely, having pined away with chagrin on recognizing the unworthiness of one Captain Delany, who jilted her as deliberately as he had won her affections.]

Tune-"Bonnie wee thing." BONNIE wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,

His bonnet he,

A thought ajee,

Cocked sprush when first he clasped me;
And I, I wat,
Wi' fainness grat,

While in his grips he pressed me.