XIII. She took her mither's Holland sheets, The lass that made the bed to me. The bonnie lass made the bed to me, The lass that made the bed to me! When Charles the Second was in Scotland during the days of Cromwell, he gave great offence to the kirk by the looseness of his language, and the open freedom of his gallantries. Before the fatal expedition into England, he had an intrigue with a young lady of the house of Port Letham, and his success was recorded by a cavalier minstrel in words which were once popular both in Scotland and England :— "There was a lass dwelt in the north, A bonnie lass of high degree; A bonnie lass, and her name was Nell, CHORUS. "O the bed to me, the bed to me, The lass that made the bed to me; Blythe, and bonnie, and sweet was she, Burns took up the old song-which was sadly corruptedand, exercising a poet's skill upon it, manufactured the present version, and sent it to the Musical Museum. He meditated alterations in it, and made a few, but not with his usual felicity: in the amended copy he makes the heroine a humble maiden, and changes the character of the composition. SAE FAR AWA. Tune-" Dalkeith Maiden Bridge." I. O, SAD and heavy should I part, VOL. II. 19 Unknowing what my way may thwart II. How true is love to pure desert, And nocht can heal my bosom's smart, This is another of the many songs which Burns wrote for the Musical Museum. Who the fair one "Sae far awa" was, it is now idle to inquire. Had the Poet lived to write his promised notes on his songs, he would have saved his biographers much fruitless research, and his admirers many idle conjectures. It must be acknowledged that the Scotch give great occasion for songs of this nature-they wander the world over. Their native land is poor and sterile and unable to maintain the half of the hardy and enterprising race to whom it gives birth. They are trained up to endurance and privation; they are well educated, for they can all read, write, and cypher; they are all intelligent, for a Scottish peasant knows more than the alehouse can tell him, and thinks himself ignorant were he not to look far beyond the business by which he gains his bread. He has no poor laws to hold out a miserable boon to his declining years; he, therefore, marches east, west, north, or south, as fortune or inclination determines, and relieves his own land while he benefits others. I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN. Tune-"I'll gae nae mair to yon town." I. I'LL ay ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green, again; And see my bonnie Jean again. There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, But she my fairest faithfu' lass, And stownlins we sall meet again. II. She'll wander by the aiken tree, And by yon garden green, again; And see my bonnie Jean again. An old song supplied Burns with the starting sentiments of this little delicious lyric: "I'll gang nae mair to yon town, O never a' my life again; Jean Armour was the heroine; the allusions to the trystingtree and the stolen interview will be understood by all the daughters of Caledonia. There are few burn-banks, or romantic glens, or spreading woods in any lowland district, that are not hallowed in the memories of many, by visions of past endearment-of golden hours-nay, minutes of rapture worthy of having been born for. Volumes-and eloquent ones-might be written on the romantic love adventures, serious and humorous, of the Scottish peasantry; no writer has entered so fully into these mysteries as Burns, Love has no charm unless it comes in a poetic shape; the lover who desires coal and can dle may as well ask for his supper at once; he is regarded as a fellow of no soul if he cannot dare flooded streams and haunted roads; and should a thunder-storm meet him on his way, he will be wise not to turn or seek shelter, unless he wishes to be made a laughing-stock of half the lasses in the vale. It is recorded of a young girl on Nith-side, that, in alluding to her first interview with a lover, she tossed her tresses in scorn, saying, "Him! I tried him wi' a lanely room and a lighted candle; and the sense to steek the door, and blaw it out!" hadna O WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN. 1. O, WAT ye wha's in yon town, II. How blest ye birds that round her sing, The sun blinks blithe on yon town, But my delight in yon town, And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair. Without my love, not a' the charms But gie me Lucy in my arms, And welcome Lapland's dreary sky! V. My cave wad be a lover's bower, That I wad tent and shelter there. O sweet is she in yon town, Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon; His setting beam ne'er shone upon. If angry fate is sworn my foe, And suffering I am doom'd to bear; VIII. For while life's dearest blood is warm, She has the truest, kindest heart! The heroine of this fine song was Lucy Johnstone-married to Mr. Oswald, of Auchencruive; an accomplished and lovely woman, who died early in life. This beautiful burst of poetic sensibility will convey no unjust image of her attractions to succeeding generations. The song is written in the character of her husband." Did you ever, my dear Syme," said the Poet, "meet with a man who owed more to the divine Giver of all good things than Mr. Oswald? A fine fortune; a pleasing exterior; self-evident amiable dispositions, and an ingenuous, upright mind-and that, too, informed much beyond the usual run of young fellows of his rank; and to all this, such a woman!But of her I shall say nothing at all, in despair of saying any thing adequate. In my song I have endeavoured to do justice to what would be his feelings on seeing, in the scene I have |