Thu' poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we’se ne'er be parted.
Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'd fairly ;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,

Thou'rt welcome to it dearly.

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor ;
But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honour.
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, .

Nor count him as a stranger,
Remember he's his country's stay,

In day and hour of danger.

MEG O' THE MILL.

Air" O BOXNIE LASS WILL YOU LIE IN A BARRACK."

O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten ?
She has gotten a coof wi' a claute o' siller,
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.

The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy;
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady :
The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl ;-
She's left the guidfellow and ta’en the churl,

The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving : The Laird did address her wi' matter more moving, No. XVII.

MR THOMSON to Mr BURNS.

Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793. I wilt not recognize the title you give yourself "the prince of indolent correspondents ;" but it' the adjective were taken away, I think the title would then this you exactly. It gives me pleasure to and rent own furnish antecletes with respect to most erede semng's: these will b' a literary curiosity.

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• WANDERING WILLIE,

As altered by Mr Erskine and Mr Thomsoria

ir... -
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,

Here away 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 poel, 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.

: The gentleman I have mentioned, whose fine taste you are no stranger to, is so well pleased both with the musical and poetical part of our work, that he has volunteered his assistance, and has already written four songs for it, which, by his own desire, I send for your perusal.

No. XVIII.

MR BURNS to Mr THOMSON.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS BLAWN.

Airm" THE MILL MILL 0.”

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms !
Wauken ye breezes ! row 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 wide-roaring main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain !

Several of the alterations seem to be of little importance in themselves, and were adopted, it may be presumed, for the sake of suiting the words better to the music. The Homeric epithet for the sea, dark-heaving, suggested by Mr Erskine, is in itself more beautiful, as well perhaps as more sublime, than wide-roaring, which he has retained; but as it is only applicable to a placid state of the sea, or at most to the swell left

Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning *
I left the lines and tented field,

Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,

A poor and honest sodger..

A leal, light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder:
And for fair Scotia, hame again,

I cheery on did wander.
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy;
I thought upon the witching smile

That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonny glen,

Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,

Where Nancy aft I courted :
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,

Down by her mother's dwelling!

on its surface after the storm is over, it gives a picture of that
element not so well adapted to the ideas of eternal separation,
which the fair mourner is supposed to imprecate. From the
original song of Here owa Willie, Burns has borrowed nothing
but the second line and part of the first. The superior excel-
lence of this beautiful poem will, it is hoped, justify the differ,
ent editions of it which we have given.
* Variation, lines 3d and 4th ;

And eyes again with pleasure beam'd,
That had been blear'd with mourning.

See No. XXIV.