O LEAVE NOVELS.

O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles, †
Ye're safer at your spinning wheel;
Such witching books are baited hooks

For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel,

Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons,
They make your youthful fancies reel,
They heat your brains, and fire your veins,
And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel.

Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung;
A heart that warmly seems to feel;
That feeling heart but acts a part,
'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.

The frank address, the soft caress,
Are worse than poison'd darts of steel,
The frank address, and politesse,

Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel.

↑ The Mauchline Belles, Burns elsewhere says, (post p. 81,) were Miss Miller, Miss Markland, Miss Smith, Miss Betty Miss Morton, and Jane Armour. These verses were written before his marriage.

ADDRESS TO GENERAL DUMOURIER.+

A PARODY ON ROBIN ADAIR.

YOU'RE Welcome to Despots, Dumourier;
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier;
How does Dampiere do?

Aye, and Bournonville too?

Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?

I will fight France with you, Dumourier,

Dumourier:

I will fight France with you,
I will fight France with you,
I will take my chance with you;
By my soul I'll dance a dance with

you,

Then let us fight about, Dumourier;

Then let us fight about, Dumourier :
Then let us fight about,

Till freedom's spark is out,

Dumourier.

Then we'll be damn'd no doubt-Dumourier.

+Allan Cunningham says that Burns was one day in the King's Arms Inn, at Dumfries, when he overheard a stranger vindicating the defection of General Dumourier from the French army, on which he composed these lines, a copy of which exists in the Poet's hand. It is printed in Cromek's Reliques.

SWEETEST MAY.*

SWEETEST May, let love inspire thee;
Take a heart which he designs thee;
As thy constant slave regard it;
For its faith and truth reward it.

Proof o' shot to birth or money,
Not the wealthy, but the bonnie;
Not high-born, but noble-minded,
In love's silken band can bind it!

ONE NIGHT AS I DID WANDER.+

TUNE JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.'

ONE night as I did wander,
When corn begins to shoot,
I sat me down to ponder,
Upon an auld tree root:

Auld Ayre ran by before me,
And bicker'd to the seas;

A cushat crowded o'er me

That echoed thro' the braes.

*This occurs with Burns' name in Johnson's Musical Museum, iii. 578.

This song occurs among Burns' Memoranda in August, 1785, and is printed in Cromek's Reliques.

THE WINTER IT IS PAST.§

A FRAGMENT.

THE winter it is past, and the simmer comes1 at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;
Now every thing is glad, while I am very sad,2
Since my true love is parted from me.3

The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear,
May have charms for the linnet or the bee;
Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts

at rest,

But my true love is parted from me.*

VAR. the summer's come.

2 The hearts of these are glad, but mine is very sad. 3 For my true lover has parted from me.

1 But my lover is parted from me.

My love is like the sun in the firmament does run,
For ever is constant and true,

But his is like the moon that wanders up and down,
And every month it is new.

All you that are in love and cannot it remove,

I pity the pains you endure;

For experience makes me know that your hearts are
full of woe,

And woe that no mortal can cure.

This song was first published in the Musical Museum, p. 208, with the variations and additions here pointed out, but Burns' name was not attached to it. It also occurs as it stands in the text in Thomson's Collection, vol. vi. p. 50, where it is expressly said to have been written by him. The

FRAGMENT.‡

HER flowing locks, the raven's wing,
Adown her neck and bosom hing;
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
And round that neck entwine her!

Her lips are roses wet wi' dew!

O, what a feast her bonnie mou!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
A crimson still diviner!

9

text also agrees with a copy in the poet's own hand, with which it has been collated. Mr. Allan Cunningham has not included these verses in his edition; and Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Cromek, in February, 1809, after the publication of the "Reliques," speaking of this fragment, says it was not written by his brother, "but well I recollect my mother singing it, when I was a little boy.”

The following was found among the Poet's papers, and was first printed by Cromek. Allan Cunningham says these verses were composed in consequence of Burns seeing a beautiful young lady ride up to the inn at Ayr, and order some refreshments for her servants.