continue to move wonder and regret." But the world's "regret" in this matter has been very evanescent; for, although the abuses and absurdities here censured, in connexion with rural celebrations of the communion, have happily disappeared, it cannot be said that the lessons conveyed in the satire are no longer necessary.

The communion was administered at Mauchline in those days but once a year, namely, on the second Sunday of August.]

SONG, COMPOSED IN SPRING.

Tune-"Johnny's Grey Breeks."

AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues :
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
Chorus. And maun I still on Menie doat,
And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
For it's jet, jet-black, an' it's like a hawk,
An' it winna let a body be.1

In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;

In vain to me in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

And maun I still, &c.

The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks ;

But life to me's a weary dream,

A dream of ane that never wauks.

And maun I still, &c.

The wanton coot the water skims,

Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,

'This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's. Menie is the common abbreviation of

Mariamne.-R. B. More correctly, it is the abbreviate of Marion.

The stately swan majestic swims,
And ev'ry thing is blest but I.

And maun I still, &c.

The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,
And o'er the moorlands whistles shill;
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,

I meet him on the dewy hill.

And maun I still, &c.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
And maun I still, &c.

Come winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging, bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature all is sad like me!

"

And maun I still, &c.

[Slighted love was the occasion of this poem; and Burns told the truth in his footnote about the chorus being "part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's." This "gentleman in Edinburgh was none other than the bard himself, who of course was his own "particular friend;" and the substitution of the name "Menie” for Jeanie was a necessary part of the little ruse he chose here to adopt. In like manner, he poured forth about the same time his "Lament occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a friend's amour."]

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN
APRIL 1786.

WEE, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure

Thy slender stem :

To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,

Wi' spreckl'd breast!

When upward-springing, blythe, to greet

The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted * forth

Amid the storm,

Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth

Thy tender form.

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield,
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield +

O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie ‡ stibble field,

Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head

In humble guise ;

But now the share uptears thy bed,

And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of simple bard,

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
Unskilful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,

And whelm him o'er !

Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n,

Who long with wants and woes has striv'n,

By human pride or cunning driv'n

To mis'ry's brink;

Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n,

He, ruin'd, sink!

Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,

That fate is thine—no distant date ;
Stern Ruin's plough-share drives elate,

Full on thy bloom,

Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,

Shall be thy doom!

[On oth April 1786, our poet enclosed this "little gem" to his friend John Kennedy. In that MS. it is called "The Gowan," a title subsequently changed for the English appellation, as above.

Regarding this poem, Burns says, "I am a good deal pleased with some of the sentiments, as they are just the native querulous feelings of a heart which (as the elegantly melting Gray says) 'melancholy has marked for her own."" It is curious to note that the closing couplet of each of the four concluding verses begins with the same word-"Till.”]

TO RUIN.

ALL hail, inexorable lord!

At whose destruction-breathing word,
The mightiest empires fall!
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,
The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!

With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye,
I see each aimèd dart ;

For one has cut my dearest tie,

And quivers in my heart.

Then low'ring, and pouring,

The storm no more I dread;
Tho' thick'ning, and black'ning,
Round my devoted head.

And thou grim Pow'r by life abhorr'd,
While life a pleasure can afford,,
Oh! hear a wretch's pray'r!
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
When shall my soul, in silent peace,
Resign life's joyless day—

My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold mould'ring in the clay?
No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face,
Enclasped, and grasped,
Within thy cold embrace!

[Here the tone of the closing stanza of the "Daisy" is taken up, and the theme expanded into a little ode.]

THE LAMENT,

OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A
FRIEND'S AMOUR.

"Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself,
And sweet affection prove the spring of woe!"

O THOU pale orb that silent shines
While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,

And wanders here to wail and weep!

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