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Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker

I've found her still,

Aye wavering like the willow-wicker, 'Tween good and ill.

Then that curst Carmagnole, auld Satan,
Watches like baudrons by a rattan,

Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on
Wi' felon ire;

uncertain

the cat

clutch

Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on
He's aff like fire.

Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair,
First shewing us the tempting ware,
Bright wines and bonny lasses rare,
To put us daft ;

Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
O' hell's damned waft.

Poor man, the flee, aft bizzes by,

And aft, as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld damned elbow yeuks wi' joy,

And hellish pleasure;

mad

itches

Already in thy fancy's eye,

Thy sicker treasure!

certain

Soon, heels-o'er-gowdie! in he gangs, heels-overhead

And like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs

And murdering wrestle,

tongs

grinning

As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
A gibbet's tassel.

But lest you think I am uncivil,

To plague you with this draunting drivel,
Abjuring a' intentions evil,

I quat my pen:

The Lord preserve us frae the devil!
Amen! Amen!

HEY FOR A LASS WI A TOCHER.

TUNE Balinamona ora.

Awa' wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms,
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:
O gie me the lass that has acres o'charms,
O gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms!

CHORUS.

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lass wi' a tocher;

dower

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher-the nice yellow guineas for me.

Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that

blows,

And withers the faster the faster it grows,

But the rapturous charm o' the bonny green

knowes,

Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonny white yowes!

ewes

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest,

The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest.

February, 1796.

JESSY.

"I once mentioned to you an air which I have long admired Here's a Health to them that's awa', Hiney, but I forget if you took any notice of it. I have just been trying to suit it with verses, and I beg leave to recommend the air to your attention once more. I have only begun it."— Burns to Mr. Thomson, about May 17, 1796.

Jessy Lewars was a friend of Mrs. Burns, who acted the part of a ministering angel in the poet's house dur

It is

ing the whole of this dismal period of distress. curious to find him, even in his present melancholy circumstances, imagining himself as the lover of his wife's kind-hearted young friend, as if the position of the mistress were the most exalted in which his fancy could place any woman he admired, or towards whom he felt gratitude.

CHORUS.

HERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear!

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear!

Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers

meet,

And soft as their parting tear

Jessy!

Although thou maun never be mine,
Although even hope is denied,
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than aught in the world beside

Jessy!

I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms,
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
For then I am lock't in thy arms — Jessy!

I guess by the dear angel smile,

I guess by the love-rolling e'e-
But why urge the tender confession,

'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree - Jessy!

OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST.

The foregoing was not, however, the only strain of fancied love which Burns addressed to Jessy Lewars. The lady relates that one morning she had a call from the poet, when he offered, if she would play him any tune of which she was fond, and for which she desired new verses, to gratify her in her wish to the best of his ability. She played over several times the air of an old song beginning

"The robin cam' to the wren's nest."

As soon as his ear got accustomed to the melody, Burns sat down, and in a very few minutes he produced this beautiful song.

Он, wert thou in the cauld blast

On yonder lea, on yonder lea,

My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee!

Or did Misfortune's bitter storms

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,

Thy bield should be my bosom,

To share it a', to share it a'!

Or were I in the wildest waste,

quarter

protection

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,

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