It wad frae monie a blunder free us
And foolish notion!"

-To a Louse.

"Ask why God made the gem so small,

An' why so huge the granite?
Because God meant mankind should set

That higher value on it."

-Lines.

"What is life wanting love?

Night without a morning!

Love's the cloudless summer sun,

Nature gay adorning."

-Song.

"How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon,

With green spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!

But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon, Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. -Banks of Devon.

A PARTIAL LIST OF BURNS'S POEMS.

My Luve's Like a Red. John Anderson, My Jo.

Red Rose.

O Whistle, and I'll Come

to You.

O Wert Thou in the Cauld

Blast.
Mary Morrison.

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!

There sinner first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry;

For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angels wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,

We tore oursels asunder;

But oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary.

2

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mold'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

I. Explain the Scotch phrases.
II. Who was Highland Mary.

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.

On the turning one down with the plow, in April, 1786.

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,

Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem;

To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,

The bonnie lark, companion meet,

Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,

Wi' speckled breast,

When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling East.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north

Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth.

Amid the storm,

Scarce rear'd above the parent earth
Thy tender form.

1

3

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,

High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield

O' cold or stane,

Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betray'd,
And guileless trust,

Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid
Low i' the dust.

Such is the fate of simple bard,

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
Unskilled he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,

And whelm him o'er!

Such fate to suffering worth is given,

Who long with wants and woes has striven,
By human pride or cunning driven

To misery's brink,

Till wrench'd of every stay but Heaven,

He, ruin'd, sink!

8

Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
That fate is thine,-no distant date;
Stern Ruin's plowshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,

Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,
Shall be thy doom!

I. Explain the Scotch words. Explain what is meant by card in the 7th stanza.

II. Select figures of speech. Classify them.

QUESTIONS ON BURNS.

1. Sketch the story of Burns's life.

2. Name his best known songs and poems.

3. For what is his poetry famed? Quote three memory gems.

4. Which of the poems given do you like best? Why? 5. Give the different titles which have been applied to Burns.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.*

1770-1850.

Thou wert as a lone star whose light did shine
On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar;
Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood
Above the blind and battling multitude;
In honored poverty thy voice did weave
Songs consecrate to truth and liberty.

-Shelley.

Of no other poet except Shakespeare have so many phrases become household words as of Wordsworth.

-Lowell.

*Wordsworth was born in the year of the Boston massacre.