Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win ;
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.

THE SLAVE'S LAMENT.

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral,
For the lands of Virginia, O;

Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more,
And alas I am weary, weary, O!

All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frost,

Like the lands of Virginia, O;

There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, And alas I am weary, weary, O!

The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear,

In the lands of Virginia, O;

And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, And alas I am weary, weary, O !

An attempt to imitate the manner of an old ballad.

OH, Lady Mary Ann

Looks o'er the castle wa',
She saw three bonny boys
Playing at the ba';

The youngest he was

The flower amang them a'-
My bonny laddie's young,
But he's growin' yei.

O father! O father:
An ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year
To the college yet:
We'll sew a green ribbon

Round about his hat,
And that will let them ken
He's to marry yet.

Lady Mary Ann

Was a flower i' the dew,

Sweet was its smell,

And bonny was its hue,
And the langer it blossom'd

The sweeter it grew;

For the lily in the bud

Will be bonnier yet.

1 Swing in a rope.

* The allusion here is the coffin being carried to the churchyard feet fore

most.

Young Charlie Cochrane
Was the sprout of an aik;
Bonny and bloomin'

And straught was its make :
The sun took delight

To shine for its sake,
And it will be the brag
O' the forest yet.

The simmer is gane

When the leaves they were green,

And the days are awa'

That we hae seen;

But far better days

I trust will come again,

For my bonny laddie's young,
But he's growin' yet.

OH, KENMURE'S ON AND AWA'.

Tune-"Oh, Kenmure's on and awa', Willie."

"THIS Song," says Cunningham, "refers to the fortunes of the gallant Gordons of Kenmure in the fatalFifteen.' The Viscount left Galloway with two hundred horsemen well armed; he joined the other lowland Jacobites-penetrated to Preston-repulsed, and at last yielded to, the attack of General Carpenter-and perished on the scaffold. He was a good as well as a brave man, and his fate was deeply lamented. The title has since been restored to the Gordon's line."

OH, Kenmure's on and awa', Willie !
Oh, Kenmure's on and awa'!
And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord
That ever Galloway saw.

Success to Kenmure's band, Willie !
Success to Kenmure's band;
There's no a heart that fears a Whig
That rides by Kenmure's hand.

Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie !
Here's Kenmure's health in wine;

There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude,
Nor yet o' Gordon's line.

Oh, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie !

Oh, Kenmure's lads are men;

Their hearts and swords are metal true-
And that their faes shall ken.

They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie !
They'll live or die wi' fame;
But soon wi' sounding victorie
May Kenmure's lord come hame.

Here's him that's far awa', Willie !
Here's him that's far awa'!

And here's the flower that I lo'e best-
The rose that's like the snaw!

MY COLLIER LADDIE.

Tune-"The Collier Laddie."

"I Do not know," says Burns, "a blither old song than this;" which he modified and altered as follows for the Museum.

OH, whare live ye, my bonny lass?
And tell me what they ca' ye?

My name, she says, is Mistress Jean,
And I follow the Collier Laddie.

My name, she says, is Mistress Jean,
And I follow the Collier Laddie.

Oh, see you not yon hills and dales,
The sun shines on sae brawlie!

They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.

They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.

And ye shall gang in gay attire,
Weel buskit1 up sae gaudy;
And ane to wait at every hand,
Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
And ane to wait at every hand,
Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie

Though ye had a' the sun shines on,
And the earth conceals sae lowly,
I wad turn my back on you and it a',
And embrace my Collier Laddie.

I wad turn my back on you and it a',
And embrace my Collier Laddie.

I can win my five pennies a day,
And spen't at night fu' brawlie ;

1 Dressed.

And mak my bed in the Collier's neuk,1
And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie.
And mak my bed in the Collier's neuk,
And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie.

Luve for luve is the bargain for me,

Though the wee cot-house should haud me;
And the warld before me to win my bread,
And fair fa' my Collier Laddie.

And the warld before me to win my bread,
And fair fa' my Collier Laddie.

FAREWEEL TO A' OUR SCOTTISH FAME.

Tune-"Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation."

"BURNS," says Cunningham, "has expressed sentiments in this song which were once popular in the north." On one occasion he says regarding the Union, "What are all the advantages which my country reaps from the Union that can counterbalance the annihilation of her independence, and even her very name? Nothing can reconcile me to the terms, English Ambassador,' 'English Court,""&c.

FAREWEEL to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory!

Fareweel even to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in martial story!

Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
And Tweed rins to the ocean,

To mark where England's province stands-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

What force or guile could not subdue,
Through many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitors' wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station;

But English gold has been our bane-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Oh, would, ere I had seen the day
That treason thus could sell us,
My auld gray head had lien in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!

1 Corner.