Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie, May I never see it, may I never trow it, But, dying, believe that my Willie's Several of the alterations seem to be of little importance in themselves, and were adopted, it may be presumed, for the sake of suiting the words better to the music. The Homeric epithet for the sea, dark-heaving, suggested by Mr. Erskine, is in itself more beautiful, as well perhaps as more sublime, than wide-roaring, which he has retained, but as it is only applicable to a placid state of the sea, or at most to the swell left on its surface after the storm is over, it gives a picture of that element not so well adapted to the ideas of eternal separation, which the fair mourner is supposed to imprecate. From the original song of Here awa Willie, Burns has borrowed nothing but the second line and part of the first. The superior excellence of this beautiful poem will, it is hoped, justify the different editions of it which we have given. E. No. No. XVIII. MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON. When wild war's deadly blast was blawn. Air" THE MILL MILL O." WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, I left the lines and tented field, A breast, A leal, light heart was in my I cheery on did wander. I thought * Variation, lines 3d and 4th: And eyes again with pleasure beam'd, See No. XXIV. I thought upon the banks o' Coil, At length I reach'd the bonny glen, I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn, Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, That's dearest to thy bosom ! Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, Forget him shall I never : Our Our humble cot and hamely fare, That gallant badge, the dear cockade, She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose- She sank within my arms, and cried, The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, Tho poor in gear, we're rich in love, And come, my faithfu' sodger lad, For gold the merchant ploughs the main, But glory is the sodger's prize, The The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, MEG O' THE MILL. Air-"O BONNIE LASS WILL YOU LIE IN A BARRACK." Ο The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy; The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving: The Laird did address her wi' matter mair moving, A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear chained bridle, A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle. O wae |