V.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, 0:

Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.

Green grow, &c.

SONG.

SONG.

Tune-JOCKEY'S GREY BREEKS.'

I.

AGAIN rejoicing nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

CHORUS.

CHORUS.*

And maun I still on Menie doat,+

And bear the scorn that's in her e'e? For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be!

II.

In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

And maun I still, &c.

III.

The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks,

But life to me's a weary dream,
A dream of ane that never wauks.

And maun I still, &c.

IV.

* This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's.

+ Menie is the common abbreviation of Mariamne.

3

IV.

The wanton coot the water skims,
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And every thing is blest but I.

And maun I still, &c.

V.

The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,
And owre the moorlands whistles shill,
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step

I meet him on the dewy hill.

And maun I still, &c.

VI.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.

And maun I still, &c.

VII.

Come Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature all is sad like me!

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

And maun I still on Menie doat,

And bear the scorn that's in her e'e? For it's jet, jet black, an' its like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be.*

We cannot presume to alter any of the poems of our bard, and more especially those printed under his own direction; yet it is to be regretted that this chorus, which is not of his own composition, should be attached to these fine stanzas, as it perpetually interrupts the train of sentiment which they excite.

E.

SONG.