The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes caller rest:

The sun blinks kindly in the biel',
Where blithe I turn my spinning wheel.

On lofty aiks the cushats wail,.
And echo cons the doolfu' tale:
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays :
The craik amang the claver hay,
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning wheel.

O wha wad leave this humble state,
For a' the pride of a' the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinning wheel?

COUNTRY LASSIE.

In summer when the hay was mawn, And corn wav'd green in ilka fieid, While claver blooms white o'er the lea, And roses blaw in ilka bield;

Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
Says, I'll be wed come o't what will
Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild,
O' guid advisement comes nae ill.

Its

ye hae wooers mony ane,

And, lassie, ye're but young, ye ken; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,

A routhie butt, a routhie ben: There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen, Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre; Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen, It's plenty beets the luver's fire.

For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
I dinna care a single flie;
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae luve to spare for me:
But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e’e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear:

Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie

For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.

O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught;
The canniest gate, the strife is sair;
But ay fu' han't is fechtin best,

A hungry care's an unco care:

But some will spend, and some will spare, An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,

Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill

O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye;
But the tender heart o' leesome luve,
The gowd and siller canna buy:
We may may by poor-Robie and I,
Light is the burden luve lays on;
Content and luve bring peace and joy,
What mair hae queens upon a throne?

FAIR ELIZA.

A GAELIC AIR.

TURN again, thou fair Eliza,

Ae kind blink before we part,

Rew on thy despairing lover!

Canst thou break his faithfu' heart?

Turn again, thou fair Eliza ;

If to love thy heart denies,
For pity, hide the cruel sentence
Under friendship's kind disguise!

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?
The offence is loving thee:
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,
Wha for thine wad gladly die?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe :-
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow.

Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sinny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,

All beneath the simmer moon ;
Not the poet, in the moment
Fancy lightens on his e'e;

Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy presence gies to me, .

THE POSIE..

O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen,
O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been ;..
But I will down yon river
the wood sae

green,

rove, amang

And a' to put a posie-to my ain dear May.

The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer;

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,

For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,

And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;

The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air,
And a' to be a posie to may ain dear May.

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day, But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak

away;

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is

near,

And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her een sae

clear;

The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,

That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er

remuve,

And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.

THE BANKS O' DOON.

YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!

Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: