ject, which are at your service. Not that I intend to enter the lists with Peter- that would be presumption indeed! My song, though much inferior in poetic merit, has, I think, more of the ballad simplicity in it. - Burns to Mr. Thomson, 26th January, 1793.

O MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar;

A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower,
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for loving thee;

At least some pity on me shaw,

If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove

By bonny Irwine side,

Where first I owned that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied?

How aften didst thou pledge and vow
Thou wad for aye be mine;
And my fond heart, itsel' sae true,
It ne'er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,

And flinty is thy breast:

Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
O wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see!

But spare and pardon my fause love,
His wrangs to Heaven and me!

WANDERING WILLIE.

An imaginary address of Clarinda to her husband, from whom she had received overtures of reconciliation.

HERE awa', there awa', wandering Willie,

Now tired with wandering, haud awa' hame; Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,

And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the

same.

Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting,

It wasna the blast brought the tear in my

ee ;

Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my

Willie

The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave of your slumbers,

O how your wild horrors a lover alarms! Awaken, ye breezes! row gently, ye billows! roll

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms!

But if he's forgotten his faithfulest Nannie,

O still flow between us, thou wide-roaring main !

May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!1

March, 1793.

1"Your Here awa', Willie must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr. Erskine and I have been conning it over; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.” Mr. Thomson to Burns, 2d April, 1793.

Wandering Willie, as altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. Thomson:

Here awa', there awa', wandering Willie,
Here awa', there awa', haud awa' hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter winds blew loud and caul' at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee;
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Blow soft, ye breezes! roll gently, ye billows!

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou dark-heaving main!
May I never see it, may I never trow it,

While, dying, I think that my Willie's my ain.

Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows:

Here awa', there awa', wandering Willie,

Here awa', there awa', haud awa' hame;

Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee;
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Wauken, ye breezes! row gently, ye billows!

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms!

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main!
May I never see it, may I never trow it,

But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.

"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.” — CURRIE.