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Cáuld is the blast upon my pale cheek,

But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,

Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,

And time is setting with me, Oh!
False friends, false love, farewell ! for mair

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide;

She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh! My true love she cried, and sank down by his side.

Never to rise again, Oh !-

1 đo not know whether this song be really mended. No XVI.

* This second line was originally,

If love it may na be! Oh!




TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,

And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayt; But by the sweet side of the Nith's winding river,

Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair.
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ;-

To equal young Jessit you seek it in vain :
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,

And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,

And sweet is the lily at evening close ;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,

Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose !
Love sits in her smile, a wizard erisnaring,

Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law : And still to her charms she alone is a stranger! · Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.


Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793. I will not recognize the title you give yourself, “ the prince of indolent correspondents ;" but if the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then fit you exactly. It gives me pleasure to find you can furnish anecdotes with respect to most of the songs : these will be a literary curiosity.

I now send you my list of the songs, which I believe will be found nearly complete. I have put down the first lines of all the English songs which I propose giving in addition to the Scotch verses. If any others occur to you, better adapted to the character of the airs, pray mention them, when you favour me with your strictures upon every thing else relating to the work.

Pleyel has lately sent me a number of the songs, with his symphonies and accompaniments added to them. I wish you were here, that I might serve up some of them to you with your own verses, by way of desert after dinner. There is so much delightful fancy in the symphonies, and such a delicate simplicity in the accompaniments.--they are indeed beyond all praise.

I am very much pleased with the several last productions of your muse : your Lord Gregory, in my estimation, is more interesting than Peter's, beau- . tiful as his is ! Your Here awa Willie must undergo some alterations to suit the air. Mr Erskine and I

have been conning it over ; he will suggest what is necessary to make them a fit match.*


As altered by Mr Erskine and Mr Thomsor.

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,

Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,

Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e ;
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,

As simmer to‘nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers,

How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Blow soft ye breezes ! roll gently ye billows !

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms!

But, oh! if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,

Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it,

While, dying, I think that my Willie's my ain !

Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows:

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa' hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bring'st ine my Willie the same.

Winter-winds blew lond and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e ;
Welcome now simmer and welcome my Willie,
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

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That's tears busu"
VT ure sigor, live dem gung

Lad fan would be they lager;
Tre gerrd my ding and country lang

Take picy se a suger!

Se vistfely see gaz'd on me,

And lovele was than ever ;
Qoorske, a sadgar ance I loed,

Forget bina skall I never :
Our humble est and hamely fare,

Ye freely shall partake it;
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

She gaz'd_she redden'd like a rose

Syne pale like ony lily, '
She sank within my arms, and cried,

Art thou my ain dear Willie ?
By Him who made yon sun and sky

By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man ; and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded !

The wars are o'er and I'm come hame, Ime ligipä And find thee still true-hearted ! .

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