Page images



I've seen the smiling
Of Fortune beguiling-
I've tasted her favours,

And felt her decay:
Sweet is her blessing,
And kind her caressing
But soon it is fled-

It is filed far away.

I've seen the Forest,
Adorn'd of the foremost
With flowers of the fairest,

Both pleasant and gay:
Full sweet was their blooming,
Their scent the air perfuming,
But now they are wither'd,

And a' wede away.

I've seen the morning
With gold the hills adorning;
And the red storm roaring,

Before the parting day:
I've seen Tweed's silver streams
Glittering in the sunny beams,
Turn druinlie and dark

As they rollid on their way.

Oh, fickle Fortune!
Why this cruel sporting?
Why thus perplex us,

Poor sons of a day?
Thy frowns cannot fear me,
Thy smiles cannot cheer me,
Since the Flowers of the Forest

Are a’wede away.

(Miss Rutherford of Fairnalie in Selkirkshire, afterwards Mrs. Cock. burn of Ormiston, was among the first to discover the expanding genius of Sir Walter Scott, who speaks very warmly of her kindness and talents in several of his writings.

“ These verses were written at an early period of her life," says Scott, “and without peculiar relation to any event, unless it were the depopulation of Ettrick Forest.")



For lack of gold she has left me-o;
And of all that's dear she's bereft me-o;
She me forsook for a great duke,
And to endless wo she has left me-o.
A star and garter have more art
Than youth, a true and faithful heart;
For empty titles we must part;
For glittering show she has left me-o.
No cruel fair shall ever move
My injured heart again to love;
Thro’ distant climates I must rove,
Since Jeany she has left me-o.

Ye powers above, I to your care
Resign my faithless lovely fair ;
Your choicest blessings be her share,
Tho' she has ever left me-o!

[" The country.girls in Ayrshire, instead of the line

She me forsook for a great duke, say,

For Athole's duke she me forsook ; which I take to be the original reading.

These words were composed by the late Dr. Austin, Physician at Edinburgh. He had courted a lady, (Miss Jean Drummond of Mege ginch] to whom he was shortly to have been married: but the Duke of Athrile having seen her, became so much in live with her, that he made proposals of marriage, which were accepted, and she jilted the Doctor."--Burns.]



Born 1721-Died 1807.

Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them?
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Let Whig and Tory all agree

To drop their whigmegorum.

Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night with mirth and glee,
And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me

The reel of Tullochgorum.
Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry,
Blithe and merry we's be a',

And mak’ a cheerfu' quorum.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',

The reel of Tullochgorum.
There needs na be sae great a phraize,
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ;
I wadna' gie our ain strathspeys

For half a hundred score o 'em.
They're douff and dowie at the best,
Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,
They're douff and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum.
They're douff and dowie at the best,
Their allegros, and a’ the rest,
They canna please a Highland taste

Compared wi' Tullochgorum.
Let warldly minds themselves oppress
Wi’ fear of want, and double cess,
And silly sauls themselves distress

Wi' keeping up decorum.

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
And canna rise to shake a fit

At the reel of Tullochgorum?
May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest-hearted open friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,

And a' that's good watch o'er him!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o' em !
May peace and plenty he his lot,
Unstain'd by any vicious blot;
And may he never want a groat

That's fond of Tullochgorum.
But for the discontented fool
Who wants to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul

And discontent devour him !
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
May dool and sorrow be his chance,

And honest souls abhor him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
And a' the ills that come frae France,
Whae'er he be that winna dance

The reel of Tullochgorum !

["This first of songs.” “ The best Scotch kong Scotland ever saw."-BURNS.

« PreviousContinue »