The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her

nest,

*

And mount to the air wi' the dew on her breast,* And wi' the merry Ploughman she'll whistle and sing,

And at night she'll return to her nest back again.

I'LL

It is pleasing to mark those touches of sympathy which shew the sons of genius to be of one kindred.-In the following passage from the poem of his countryman, the same figure is illustrated with characteristic simplicity; and never were the tender and the sublime of poetry more happily united, nor a more affectionate tribute paid to the memory of Burns.

"Thou, simple bird,

"Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home
"The humblest; yet thy morning song ascends
"Nearest to Heaven;-sweet emblem of his song,+
"Who sung thee wakening by the daisy's side!"

Grahame's Birds of Scotland, vol. ii. p. iv.

I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

I'LL'ay ca' in by yon town,

I'll

And by yon garden green, again;

ay ca' in by yon town,

And see my bonie Jean again."

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess,

What brings me back the gate again,

But she my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins* we sall meet again.

She'll wander by the aiken tree,

When trystin-time+ draws near again ; And when her lovely form I see,

O'haith, she's doubly dear again!

WHISTLE

*Stownlins-By stealth.

+ Trystin-time-The time of appointment.

WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T.

FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married-spier nae mair-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.-

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonie Meg was nature's child-
-Wiser men than me's beguil'd;
Whistle o'er the lave o't.

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love and how we 'gree,
.I care na by how few may see;

Whistle o'er the lave o't.-
Wha I wish were maggot's meat,
Dish'd up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg maun see't→→→→
Whistle o'er the lave o't.-

YOUNG JOCKEY.

YOUNG Jockey was the blythest lad
In a' our town or here awa;
Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,*
Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'!
He roos'd my e'en sae bonie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae genty sma;
An' ay my heart came to my mou,
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lee I leuk fu' fain.

When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'.

An' ay the night comes round again,
When in his arms he taks me a';

An' ay be vows he'll be my ain
As lang's he has a breath to draw.

MCPHERSON'S

*The Gaud-at the Plough.

M'PHERSON'S FAREWEL.

FAREWEL ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
M'Pherson's time will not be long,

On yonder gallows tree.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He play'd a spring and danc'd it round
Below the gallows tree.

Oh, what is death but parting breath ?—
On mony a bloody plain

I've dar'd his face, and in this place

I scorn him yet again!

Sae rantingly, &c."

Untie these bands from off my hands,*

And bring to me my sword;

And there's no a man in all Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.

Sae rantingly, &c.

I've

See the 2d verse of the ballad of Hughie Graham,

p. 287.