elbow chair, I produced the following, which are far inferior to the foregoing, I frankly confess." The peasantry, in whose hands all old verses are diversified by numerous variations, have attempted in vain to imitate the starting sentiment :— O were my love yon lily white I wad lie near its bloom at e'en. Another variation substitutes a leek for the lily, which may indicate that the lover was of Welsh descent. There are varieties without end, and stray verses without number, all echoing in a fainter or ruder way the sentiment of the ancient verse. BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL. O leeze me on my spinning wheel, On ilka hand the burnies trot, And meet below my theekit cot; The scented birk and hawthorn white Across the pool their arms unite, Alike to screen the birdie's nest, And little fishes' caller rest: The sun blinks kindly in the biel', On lofty aiks the cushats wail, Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, O wha wad leave this humble state, The old song of " The Lass and her spinning wheel" must have been present to Burns's mind when he wrote this sweeter and gentler strain. The early song is ani mated by love: the present song by domestic thrift, and an affection for hill, and tree, and stream. Household industry seldom lent any inspiration to the Muse: over sewing, spinning, and knitting; kneading cakes, and pressing cheese; shaking straw, and winnowing corn; and all the range of in-door and out-door occupation, no Muse was appointed to preside-the more's the pity! LOGAN WATER. O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide Again the merry month o' May Has made our hills and valleys gay ; The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers; Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening's tears are tears of joy : My soul delightless a' surveys, While Willie's far frae Logan braes. Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, O wae upon you, men o' state, As ye Sae make mony a fond heart mourn, may it on your heads return! How can your flinty hearts enjoy The widow's tears, the orphan's cry? But soon may peace bring happy days, Logan Water has found many poets; but the most successful of all its minstrels is John Mayne, Esq. whose song of that name echoes back the pure sentiments and glad feelings of the olden days of the Muse with great feeling and truth. The song of Mayne, as well as that of Burns, is founded on some old verses; but the poet has only employed them in creating something more beautiful and delicate. Of the earlier song, the following may suffice for a specimen : Ae simmer night, on Logan braes, First wi' her stockings, and syne wi' her shoon; Had I kenn'd then what I ken now The hero goes on to make the public his confidant; but the confession seems adapted for the secret and discreet ear of a father-confessor. THE POSIE. O luve will venture in where it daurna weel be seen, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, For it's like a balmy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou'; The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue ; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. |