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Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,

How quick time is flying, how keen fate

pursues;

How long I have lived, but how much lived in vain :

How little of life's scanty span may remain : What aspects, old Time, in his progress has

worn ;

What ties, cruel fate in my bosom has torn.

How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gained! And downward, how weakened, how darkened, how pained !

This life's not worth having with all it can give, For something beyond it poor man sure must live.

Burns.

MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.

Musing on the roaring ocean

Which divides my love and me ;
Wearying Heaven in warm devotion,
For his weal, where'er he be.

Hope and fears alternate billow
Yielding late to nature's law;
Whispering spirits round my pillow
Talk of him that's far awa.

Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear;
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear.

Gentle night, do thou befriend me ;
Downy sleep, the curtain draw;

Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!

Burns.

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.

O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget?

Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love?

Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace ;

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
"Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaimed the speed of wingèd day.

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!

Where is thy blissful place of rest?

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hears't thou the groans that rend his breast!

Burns.

THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE COUNTRY.

The gloomy night is gathering fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scattered coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

The Autumn mourns her ripening corn
By early Winter's ravage torn ;
Across her placid, azure sky,

She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

'Tis not the surging billow's roar,
'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Though death in every shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear :

But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierced with many a wound:
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those,
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!

Burns.

WINTER.

The wintry west extends his blast,

And hail and rain does blaw;

Or, the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:

While, tumbling brown, the burn* comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae :

And bird and beast in covert rest
And pass the heartless day.

* Brook.

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