Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,

They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond her eye.

Her voice is the song of the morning,
That wakes through the green-spreading grove,
When Phoebus peeps over the mountains,
On music, and pleasure, and love.

But, beauty, how frail and how fleeting-
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.

August, 1793.

COME, LET ME TAKE THEE TO MY

BREAST.

AIR Cauld Kail.

is the very

“The last stanza of this song I send you is the words that Coila taught me many years ago, and which I set to an old Scots reel in Johnson's Museum." Burns to Mr. Thomson, August, 1793.

COME, let me take thee to my breast,

And pledge we ne'er shall sunder;

ས

And I shall spurn as vilest dust
The warld's wealth and grandeur.
And do I hear my Jeanie own
That equal transports move her?
I ask for dearest life alone

That I may live to love her.

Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure ;
I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure :
And by thy e'en sae bonny blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never!

DAINTY DAVIE.

TUNE- Dainty Davie.

"My dear sir, I have written you already by to-day's post, where I hinted at a song of mine which might suit Dainty Davie. I have been looking over another and a better song of mine in the Museum, which I have altered as follows, and which I am persuaded will please you."- Burns to Mr. Thomson, August,

1793.

The tune of Dainty Davie had been in Burns's hands some years before, when he composed to it a song with the awkward burden, The Gardener wi' his Paidle.1

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
And now come in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.

CHORUS.

Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.

The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A-wandering wi' my Davie.

When purple Morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,

Then through the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.

When Day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I lo'e best,

And that's my ain dear Davie.
1 See vol. ii. p. 231.

knoll

BRUCE TO HIS MEN AT BANNOCKBURN.

TUNE-Hey, tuttie taitie.

"There is a tradition, which I have met with in

many places in Scotland that it [the air Hey, tuttie

taitie] was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn. This thought, in my yesternight's eveningwalk, warmed me to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, which I threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose to be the gallant royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful morning." Burns to Mr. Thomson, Sept. 1793.

Scors, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power
Chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?

Wha sae base as be a slave?

Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains !
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow! —

Let us do or die!1

1" So may God ever defend the cause of truth and liberty, as He did that day! Amen.

"P. S.-I shewed the air to Urbani, who was highly pleased with it, and begged me to make soft verses for it; but I had no idea of giving myself any trouble on the subject, till the accidental recollection of that glorious struggle for freedom, associated with the glowing ideas of some other struggles of the same nature, not quite so ancient, roused my rhyming mania." - B.