O'er the moor amang the heather, The bonnie lass amang the heather! ["Coming through the Craigs o' Kyle," is the composition of Jean Glover, a girl who was not only a whore but a thief, and in one or other character had visited most of the Correction Houses in the west. She was born I believe in Kilmarnock. I took the song down from her singing, as she was strolling through the country with a slight-of-hand blackguard."-BURNS. I rinted by Burns in Johnson's fourth volume.] WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN. JOHN LAPRAIK. When I upon thy bosom lean, And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, I glory in the sacred ties That made us ane, wha ance were twain: A mutual flame inspires us baith, The tender look, the melting kiss : Hae I a wish? it's a' for thee; Weel pleas'd they see our happy days, Thy bosom still shall be my hame. I'll lay me there, and take my rest, And beg her not to drap a tear; United still her heart and mine; They're like the woodbine round the tree, That's twin'd till death shall them disjoin. ["This song was the work of a very worthy facetious old fellow, John Lapraik, late of Dalfram, near Muirkirk, (in Ayrshire). He has often told me that he composed it one day when his wife had been fretting o'er their misfortunes."-BURNS. Burns heard these beautiful verses sung in a rustic assembly, and was so delighted with them, that he desired the friendship of the author, and addressed a poetic epistle to him in which he alludes with exquisite delicacy to the above song There was ae sang, amang the rest It thirld the heart-strings thro' the breast A' to the life. Works, II. p. 172.] 1 ROSLIN CASTLE. RICHARD HEWIT. 'Twas in that season of the year, Of Nanny's charms the shepherd sung, Awake, sweet Muse! the breathing spring, O, hark, my love! on ev'ry spray, O come my love! thy Colin's lay Come while the muse this wreath shall twine O hither haste, and with thee bring And charm this ravish'd heart of mine. ["These beautiful verses were the production of a Richard Hewit, a young man that Dr. Blacklock, to whom I am indebted for the anecdote, kept for some years as an amanuensis.”—BURNS. From Herd's Collection, 1769.]. MY GODDESS, WOMAN. JOHN LEARMONT. Of mighty Nature's handy-works, The farmer's toils, the merchant trokes, The sailor spreads the daring sail, Through billows chafed and foaming, For gems and gold and jewels rare. But lays, wi' pride, his laurels down, Before thee, conquering woman. The monarch leaves his golden throne, And lays aside his crown, and kneels Though all were mine e'er man possess❜d, What would earth be, frae east to west, Without my goddess, woman? [Joha Learmont, the author of this clever song, was a gardener at Dalkeith, "it is very happily imagined," says Mr. Cunningham, "but the execution is unequal."] THE WAYWARD WIFE. JENNY GRAHAME. Alas! my son, you little know The sorrows which from wedlock flow: Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet, Your hopes are high, your wisdom small, When I, like you, was young and free, |