WHERE ARE THE JOYS? TUNE- Saw ye my Father? This song as first written was sprinkled with a few Scottish words. WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning, That danced to the lark's early song? Where is the peace that awaited my wandering, At evening the wild-woods among? No more a-winding the course of yon river, Is it that Summer's forsaken our valleys, No, no! the bees humming round the gay roses, Fain would I hide what I fear to discover, All that has caused this wreck in my bosom Is Jenny, fair Jenny, alone. Time cannot aid me; my griefs are immortal ; 1 Not 1 hope dare a comfort bestow: Come, then, enamoured and fond of my anguish, Enjoyment I'll seek in my wo. September, 1793. MY SPOUSE NANCY. TUNE-- My Jo Janet. "HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife, Yet I am not your slave, sir." “One of us two must still obey, Is it man, or woman, say, 1 So in manuscript - hitherto always printed Nor. "If 'tis still the lordly word, Service and obedience, "Sad will I be, so bereft, Nancy, Nancy; Yet I'll try to make a shift, My spouse, Nancy." My poor heart then break it must, My last hour I'm near it: When you lay me in the dust, Think, think how you will bear it." "I will hope and trust in Heaven, Strength to bear it will be given, "Well, sir, from the silent dead, "I'll wed another like my dear, Nancy, Nancy; Then all hell will fly for fear, My spouse, Nancy." APOLOGY TO MR. RIDDEL FOR A RUDENESS OFFERED HIS WIFE. From whatever considerations, known or unknown, Mr. and Mrs. Riddel were unforgiving, though the breach did not become quite desperate at first. THE friend whom wild from Wisdom's way, The fumes of wine infuriate send (Not moony madness more astray) Who but deplores that hapless friend? Mine was th' insensate frenzied part, Ah! why should I such scenes outlive? — Scenes so abhorrent to my heart! "Tis thine to pity and forgive. MONODY ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. Time passed on, and the original breach was probably made wider by the tittle-tattle of injudicious friends. Certain it is that Burns became deeply incensed against this pair of ancient friends, and stooped to express his rancor in strains truly unworthy of at least his heart, if not his head. It was in the following style that he lampooned the once admired Maria — a woman whom he had described as one of real talent, and who undoubtedly was so. How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glistened ! How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flattery so listened ! If sorrow and anguish their exit await, From friendship and dearest affection removed, How doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate, Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unloved. |