Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing;
There mony a kindly word he spake,
That set my heart a-glowing.
He kiss'd, and vow'd he wad be mine,
And loo'd me best of ony;
That gars me like to sing sinsyne,
O corn-riggs are bonny!

Let maidens of a silly mind

Refuse what maist they're wanting,
Since we for yielding are design'd,
We chastely should be granting;
Then I'll comply, and marry Pate,
And syne my cockernony
He's free to touzle air or late

Where corn-riggs are bonny.

[From The Gentle Shepherd. "This is a very unequal song." Burns wrote to George Thomson. "His mind is never muddy' is a muddy expression indeed."]

NOW PHOEBUS ADVANCES ON HIGH.

ALLAN RAMSAY.

Now Phoebus advances on high,
Nae footsteps of winter are seen,
The birds carol sweet in the sky,
And lambkins dance reels on the green.

Through plantings, and burnies sae clear,
We wander for pleasure and health,
Where buddings and blossoms appear,
With prospects of joy and of wealth.

Go view the gay scenes all around,
That are, and that promise to be;
Yet in them a' naething is found
Sae perfect, Eliza, as thee.
Thy een the clear fountains excel,
Thy locks they outrival the grove;
When zephyrs thus pleasingly swell,
Ilk wave makes a captive to love.

The roses and lilies combin'd,

And flowers of maist delicate hue,
By thy cheek and dear breasts are outshin'd,
Their tinctures are naething sae true.

What can we compare with thy voice,
And what with thy humour sae sweet?

Nae music can bless with sic joys;
Sure angels are just sae complete.

Fair blossom of ilka delight,

Whose beauties ten thousand outshine;
Thy sweet shall be lasting and bright,
Being mix'd with sae many divine.
Ye powers, who have given sic charms
To Eliza, your image below,
O save her frae all human harms!
And make her hours happily flow.

[From the Gentle Shepherd.]

AT SETTING DAY.

ALLAN RAMSAY

At setting day and rising morn,
With soul that still shall love thee,
I'll ask of heaven thy safe return,
With all that can improve thee.
I'll visit oft the birken bush,

Where first thou kindly told me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush, Whilst round thou didst infold me.

To all our haunts I will repair,

By greenwood shaw or fountain; Or where the summer-day I'd share With thee upon yon mountain. There will I tell the trees and flowers,

From thoughts unfeign'd and tender, By vows you're mine, by love is yours A heart which cannot wander.

[From the Gentle Shepherd.]

TO FORTUNE.

JAMES THOMSON.

Born 1700-Died 1748.

For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part.

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the soul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the love of life is gone?

But busy, busy still art thou,
To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude.

For pomp and noise, and senseless show,
To make us Nature's joys forego,
Beneath a gay dominion groan,

And put the golden fetter on!

For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,
And I absolve thy future care;

All other blessings I resign,

Make but the dear Amanda mine.

[First published in the "Orpheus Caledonius," 1725, attached to the tune of Logan water.

"For ever, Fortune wilt thou prove,' is a charming song. BURNS.]

TO AMANDA.

JAMES THOMSON.

Unless with my Amanda bless'd,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower;
Unless to deck her sweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing flower.

Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me sing; In vain the freshening fields appear. Without my love there is no spring.

TO AMANDA.

JAMES THOMSON.

Come, dear Amanda, quit the town,
And to the rural hamlets fly;
Behold! the wintry storms are gone;
A gentle radiance glads the sky.

The birds awake, the flowers appear,

Earth spreads a verdant couch for thee;

'Tis joy and music all we hear,

'Tis love and beauty all we see.