The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 142

I.

She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine.

II.

I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer; And niest my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine.

III.

She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine.

IV.

The warld's wrack we share o't, The warstle and the care o't; Wi' her I'll blythely bear it, And think my lot divine.

CLx.x.xI.

BONNIE LESLEY.

["I have just," says Burns to Thomson, "been looking over the 'Collier's bonnie Daughter,' and if the following rhapsody, which I composed the other day, on a charming Ayrs.h.i.+re girl, Miss Leslie Baillie, as she pa.s.sed through this place to England, will suit your taste better than the Collier La.s.sie, fall on and welcome." This lady was soon afterwards married to Mr. c.u.ming, of Logie.]

I.

O saw ye bonnie Lesley As she ga'ed o'er the border?

She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther.

II.

To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For Nature made her what she is, And never made anither!

III.

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects we, before thee: Thou art divine, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee.

IV.

The deil he could na scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonnie face, And say, "I canna wrang thee."

V.

The powers aboon will tent thee; Misfortune sha' na steer thee: Thou'rt like themselves so lovely, That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

VI.

Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie; That we may brag, we hae a la.s.s There's nane again sae bonnie.

CLx.x.xII.

HIGHLAND MARY.

Tune--"_Katherine Ogie._"

[Mary Campbell, of whose worth and beauty Burns has sung with such deep feeling, was the daughter of a mariner, who lived in Greenock.

She became acquainted with the poet while on service at the castle of Montgomery, and their strolls in the woods and their roaming trysts only served to deepen and settle their affections. Their love had much of the solemn as well as of the romantic: on the day of their separation they plighted their mutual faith by the exchange of Bibles: they stood with a running-stream between them, and lifting up water in their hands vowed love while woods grew and waters ran. The Bible which the poet gave was elegantly bound: 'Ye shall not swear by my name falsely,' was written in the bold Mauchline hand of Burns, and underneath was his name, and his mark as a freemason. They parted to meet no more: Mary Campbell was carried off suddenly by a burning fever, and the first intimation which the poet had of her fate, was when, it is said, he visited her friends to meet her on her return from Cowal, whither she had gone to make arrangements for her marriage. The Bible is in the keeping of her relations: we have seen a lock of her hair; it was very long and very bright, and of a hue deeper than the flaxen. The song was written for Thomson's work.]

I.

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie!

There Simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last farewell O' my sweet Highland Mary.

II.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom!

The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary!

III.

Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu' tender; And, pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But oh! fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early!-- Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary!

IV.

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips I aft hae kissed sae fondly!

And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly!

And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo'ed me dearly-- But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary!

CLx.x.xIII.

AULD ROB MORRIS.

[The starting lines of this song are from one of no little merit in Ramsey's collection: the old strain is sarcastic; the new strain is tender: it was written for Thomson.]