ET. 36.] LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. 143 CHORUS. Lovely was she by the dawn, The feathered people, you might see They hail the charming Chloe; Of youthful, charming Chloe. 1 LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. TUNE Rothemurchie's Rant. CHORUS. LASSIE wi' the lint-white locks, flaxen 1 "You may think meanly of this, but take a look at the bombast original, and you will be surprised that I have made so much of it." Burns. 144 LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. [1794. Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks, Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea, clothes And when the welcome simmer-shower When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, And when the howling wintry blast Nov., 1794. FAREWELL, THOU STREAM THAT WINDING FLOWS. It will be observed that this is a new and improved version of the song sent in April of the preceding year, beginning, The last Time I came o'er the Moor. The change most remarkable is the substitution of Eliza for Maria. The alienation of Mrs. Riddel, and Burns's resentment against her, must have rendered the latter name no longer tolerable to him. One only can wonder that, with his new and painful associations regarding that lady, he could endure the song itself, or propose laying it before the world. FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows O mem'ry! spare the cruel throes And yet in secret languish, To feel a fire in every vein, Nor dare disclose my anguish. Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown, I know thou doom'st me to despair, Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me; But, oh! Eliza, hear one prayer — For pity's sake forgive me! The music of thy voice I heard, 'Mid circling horrors sinks at last PHILLY AND WILLY. TUNE The Sow's Tail. Nov., 1794. HE. O PHILLY, happy be that day, When roving through the gathered hay, SHE. O Willy, aye I bless the grove Where first I owned my maiden love, Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above To be my ain dear Willy. HE. As songsters of the early year SHE. As on the brier the budding rose So in my tender bosom grows The love I bear my Willy. HE. The milder sun and bluer sky, That crown my harvest cares wi' joy, As is a sight o' Philly. · SHE. The little swallow's wanton wing, As meeting o' my Willy. |