Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene.
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.
Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care;
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear
My Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL

To his Native Country.

Burns intended this song as a farewell dirge to his native land, from which he was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. had taken,' says he, the last farewell of my friends: my chest was on the road to Greenock: I composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia-" The gloomy night is gathering fast."

Tune.-Roslin Castle.

THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest wi' care,
Along the bonnie banks of Ayr.
The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
By early Winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly;

Chill runs my blood to hear it rave, I think upon the stormy_wave, Where many a danger I must dare, Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr. 'Tis not the surging billow's roar, 'Tis not that fatal deadly shore : Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear, The wretched have no more to fear : But round my heart the ties are bound, That heart transpierced with many a wound: These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr. Farewell old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales; The scenes where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past, unhappy loves! Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! My peace with these, my love with thoseThe bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr!

THE FAREWELL

To the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tarbolton.
Tune.-Gude night and joy be wi' you a'.
ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu,
Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favour'd, ye enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy!
Tho' I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing fortune's slipp'ry ba',"
With melting heart and brimful eye,
I'll mind you still, tho' far awa.
Oft have I met your social band,
And spent the cheerful, festive night;
Oft, honour'd with supreme command
Presided o'er the sons of light;
w Ball.

And by that hieroglyphic bright,

Which none but craftsmen ever saw ! Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write Those happy scenes when far awa. May freedom, harmony, and love, Unite you in the grand design, Beneath th' omniscient Eye above, The glorious Architect divine! That you may keep th' unerring line, Still rising by the plummet's law, Till order bright completely shine, Shall be my prayer, when far awa. farewell! whose merits claim, Justly, that highest badge to wear! Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble name, To Masonry and Scotia dear! A last request, permit me here,When yearly ye assemble a', One round, I ask it with a tear,

And you,

To him-The Bard that's far awa!

THE RUINED MAID'S LAMENT.

O MEIKLE do I rue, fause love,
Oh sairly do I rue,

That e'er I heard your flattering tongue,
That e'er your face I knew.

Oh I hae tint my rosy cheeks,
Likewise my waist sae sma';

And I hae lost my lightsome heart
That little wist a fa'.

Now I maun thole the scornfu' sneer
O' mony a saucy quean;
When, gin the truth were a' but kent,
Her life's been waur than mine.

Whene'er my father thinks on me,
He stares into the wa';

My mither, she has taen the bed
Wi' thinking on my fa'.

Whene'er I hear my father's foot,
My heart wad burst wi' pain;
Whene'er I meet my mither's ee,
My tears rin down like rain.
Alas! sae sweet a tree as love
Sic bitter fruit should bear!
Alas! that e'er a bonnie face
Should draw a sauty tear!

AND MAUN I STILL ON MENIE DOAT. It was the opinion of Dr. Currie, that the chorus originally attached to the following beautiful stanzas, both interrupted the narrative, and marred the sentiment of each verse. We have therefore omitted it.

Tune.-Johnny's grey breeks.
AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues
Her leafy locks wave in their breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
In vain to me these cowslips blaw,
In vain to me these vi'lets spring:
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,

The mavis and the lintwhite" sing.
The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie2 seedsman stalks,
But life 's to me a weary dream,

A dream of ane that never wauks.
The wanton coot the water skims,
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,
y 'The linnet.

* The thrusn

z Careful.

The stately swan majestic swims,
And every thing is blest but I.

The shepherd steeks his faulding slap,
And owre the moorlands whistles shrill;
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step
I meet him on the dewy hill.

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

THE DEAN OF FACULTY.-A NEW BALLAD.

A fragment, first published in the 'Reliques.'
Tune.-The Dragon of Wantley.

DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw,
For beauteous, hapless Mary:
But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot,
Or were more in fury seen, Sir,

Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job-
Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir.

This Hal, for genius, wit, and lore,
Among the first was number'd;
But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store,
Commandment tenth remember'd.
Yet simple Bob the victory got,
And wan his heart's desire;

Which shews that Heaven can boil the pot
Though the Devil p-ss in the fire.

a Shuts the gate of his fold.