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This is one of the many lyric effusions with which the adherents of the house of Stuart sought to preserve the national love for their ancient line of Princes. It is however somewhat amended by Burns, and some sense has been infused into the chorus. In Hogg's “ Jacobite Relics” another verse is added, which takes the song from the lips of a soldier and gives it to those of a lady. I think the general feeling is in favour of the former; though we have President Forbes's testimony to the violent love of the ladies for the exiled princes, and the assurance of Ray that they would listen to no manner of reason, but were Jacobites one and all. I have retained the original version.

LASSIE, LIE NEAR ME.

Lang ha’e we parted been,

Lassie, my dearie ;
Now we are met again,
Lassie, lie near me.
Near me, near me,

Lassie, lie near me;
Lang hast thou lain thy lane,

Lassie, lic near me.

Frae dread Culloden's field,

Bloody and dreary,
Mourning my country's fate,
Lanely and weary;
Weary, weary,

Lanely and weary;
Become a sad banish'd wight,
Far frae

my

dearie.

Loud, loud the wind did roar,

Stormy and eerie,
Far frae my native shore,
Far frae my

dearie.
Near me, near me,

Dangers stood near me;
Now I've escap'd them a',

Lassie, lie near me.

A' that I ha'e endur'd,

Lassie, my dearie,
Here in thine arms is cur'd-
Lassie, lie near me.
Near me, near me,

Lassie, lie near me ;
Lang hast thou lain thy lane,

Lassie, lie near me.

The original of this very pretty song was purely domestic-an infusion of Jacobite feeling seems not to have injured either its tenderness or its simplicity. We have, however, many varieties of the song. Some fastidious persons,

who believe that a man never addresses his wife by any familiar name, have substituted “ Wifie, lie near me;" others, again, supposed they had amended the imaginary indecorum by singing “ Laddie, lie near me.” If I am called on to confess my own belief in this matter, I must say that men both of the north and south are in the practice of bestowing familiar and endearing names on their wives, and that I see in the hero and heroine of this song a wedded pair, who, separated by misfortune, had met again in mutual and overflowing joy.

THE TURNIMSPIKE.

Hersell pe highland shentleman,

Pe auld as Pothwell Prig, man ;
And mony alterations seen,

Amang the lawland whig, man.
First when her to te lawlands came,

Nainsell was droving cows, man,
There was nae laws about hims nerse,

About the preeks or trews, man.

Nainsell did wear the philabeg,

The plaid pricked on her shouder;
De gude claymore hung py her pelt,

Her pistol charged with powder.

But cúrse upon these Saxon preeks,

In which her limbs are lockit ; Ohon that ere she saw the day !

For a' her houghs pe prokit.

Every thing in the highlands now

Pe turned to alteration ;
Te sodger dwall at our door cheek,

And tats a great vexation.
Scotland pe turned a Hingland now,

The laws pring in de cadger ; Nainsell wad durk him for his deeds,

But oh, she fears te sodger.

Anither law came after tat,

Me never saw te like, man;
They make a lang road on te ground,

And ca’ him Turnimspike, man:
And wow she pe a ponny road,

Like Loudon corn riggs, man ; Where twa carts may gang on her,

And no preak ither’s legs, man.

They charge a penny for ilka horse,

In troth she'll no be sheaper,
For nought but gaun upon the ground,

And they gi’e me a paper.
They take the horse then py te head,
And there they make him stand,

man ; She tells them she had seen the day

They had nae sic command, man.

Nae doubt nainsell maun draw her purse,
And
pay

him what him like, man;
She'll see a shudgement on his door,

That filthy turnimspike, man.
But I'll away to te highland hills,

Where deil a ane dare turn her,
And no come near the turnimspike,

Save when she comes to purn her.

The humour of this lowland ditty lies not altogether in the comic style of the highlander: there is considerable naïveté in his complaint against the innovation of good roads and turnpike-gates, and still more in his wrath against that injurious and insulting but ludicrous act of Parliament which imprisoned him in lowland breeches. I am no admirer of songs which seek to excite laughter by the imperfections of language; and I shall insert no more of those ditties which show up a highlander floundering along in the mysterious humour of broken English

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