'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul!
For absolutely in my breast

She reigns without control.'

Fal lal de ral, &c.

YOUNG JOCKEY.

YOUNG Jockey was the blithest lad
In a' our town or here awa;
Fu' blithe he whistled at the gaud,2
Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'!
He roos'd3 my een sae bonnie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae genty sma';
An' aye my heart came to my mou,
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lea I look fu' fain

When Jockey's owsen1 hameward ca',

An' aye the night comes round again,

When in his arms he taks me a';

An' aye he VOWS he'll be my ain

As lang's he has a breath to draw.

M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie:
M‘Pherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows tree.

CHORUS.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He play'd a spring and danc'd it round,
Below the gallows tree.

1 The seventh stanza has several minute faults; but I remember I composed it in a wild enthusiasm of passion.-R. B.

2 The plough.

3 Praised.

4 Oxen.

5 A noted Highland robber, whose daring is portrayed in the verses. He broke his violin at the foot of the gallows.

Oh, what is death but parting breath ?—
On monie a bloody plain

I've dar'd his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!
Sae rantingly, &c.

Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword!
And there's no a man in all Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.
Sae rantingly, &c.

I've liv'd a life of sturt1 and strife;
I die by treachery :

It burns my heart I must depart
And not avenged be.

Sae rantingly, &c.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,
The wretch that dare not die!
Sae rantingly, &c.

THE DEAN OF FACULTY.

A NEW BALLAD.

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 Bob2 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 won his heart's desire;

Which shows that heaven can boil the pot,
Though the devil in the fire.

1 Trouble.

2 Henry Erskine and Robert Dundas.

Squire Hal, besides, had, in this case,
Pretensions rather brassy,
For talents to deserve a place

Are qualifications saucy;

So their worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
To their gratis grace and goodness.

As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
Of a son of Circumcision,

So may be, on this Pisgah height,
Bob's purblind, mental vision;
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be open'd yet,
Till for eloquence you hail him,
And swear he has the Angel met
That met the ass of Balaam.

In your heretic sins may ye live and die,
Ye heretic eight and thirty!
But accept, ye sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty.

With your Honours and a certain King,
In your servants this is striking—
The more incapacity they bring,
The more they're to your liking.

I'LL AYE CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

I'LL aye ca' in by yon town,

And by yon garden green again;

I'll aye ca' in by yon town,

And see my bonnie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, What brings me back the gate again,

But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins' we sall meet again.

She'll wander by the aiken tree,

When trystin-time draws near again;

And when her lovely form I

see,

O haith, she's doubly dear again!

1 By stealth.

A BOTTLE AND FRIEND.

There's nane that's blest of human kind,
But the cheerful and the gay, man.
Fal, lal, &c.

HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Whi kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o' care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man :—
Believe me, happiness is shy,

And comes not aye when sought, man.

I'LL KISS THEE YET.

TUNE-"THE BRAES O' BALQUIDDER."

CHORUS.

I'll kiss thee yet, yet,

And I'll kiss thee o'er again,
An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonnie Peggy Alison !

ILK care and fear, when thou art near,
I ever mair defy them, O;
Young Kings upon their hansel1 throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!

I'll kiss thee, &c.

When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O;
I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
I'll kiss thee, &c.

And by thy een sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O ;-
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!
I'll kiss thee, &c.

1 Throne first occupied.

ON CESSNOCK BANKS.1

TUNE "IF HE BE A BUTCHER NEAT AND TRIM."

ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;

Could I describe her shape and mien ;
Our lasses a' she far excels,

An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
When rising Phoebus first is seen,
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

She's stately like yon youthful ash

That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh ;
An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,
With flow'rs so white, and leaves so green,
When purest in the dewy morn;

An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

Her looks are like the vernal May,
When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene,
While birds rejoice on every spray;
An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

Her hair is like the curling mist

That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en,
When flow'r-reviving rains are past;
An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
When gleaming sunbeams intervene,
And gild the distant mountain's brow;
An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
The pride of all the flowery scene,
Just opening on its thorny stem;

An' she's twa sparkling, roguish een.

1 This song was an early production. It was recovered by the editor from the oral communication of a lady residing at Glasgow, whom the bard in early life affectionately admired.-Cromek.

2 The "lassie" was Ellison Begbie, a farmer's daughter, but then the servant of a family living about two miles from Burns.