O, had she been a country maid, Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, Give me the cot below the pine, To tend the flocks or till the soil, And every day have joys divine With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle. The lady, in whose praise this fine song was written, was Miss Alexander of Ballochmyle, in Ayrshire. Burns, during one of his fits of solitary musing on the banks of his native stream, met with this west-country beauty among the woods, and her charms occasioned the song, which he enclosed to her in a letter written with much romantic respect and delicacy. The lass of Ballochmyle, like many other maidens on whom the folly of poets has lavished lasting verse, was cold or insensible, and Burns had not the fortitude to be silent-he complained of her neglect. Dr. Currie excuses the lady with singular infelicity: "Her modesty might prevent her from perceiving that the muse of Tibullus breathed in this nameless poet." I hope Miss Alexander listened to the doctor's defence as she did to the poet's strains, with "silent modesty and dignified reserve." THE STOWN GLANCE O' KINDNESS. 'Twasna her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin; Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing; 'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness. Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, To a lady with blue eyes and flaxen ringlets, Burns seems largely indebted for his inspiration in song; and I am afraid that the poet persisted in pouring out his praise long after the lady had no other charm than personal attractions left. One of the flaxen-tressed heroines of Burns contrived to cast suspicion upon her chastity before her beauty was well budded:-but it would be discourteous to insist upon purity with a lady who had the weakness, or the boldness, never to care any thing for a virtue so sensitive and troublesome. BONNIE LESLEY. O saw ye bonnie Lesley, As she gaed o'er the border? To spread her conquests further. To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For nature made her what she is, Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. The powers aboon will tent thee; Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely, That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. Return to Caledonie ! That we may brag, we hae a lass There's nane again so bonnie. Mr. Thomson sought to stay the march of "Macedonia's madman" into the region of Scottish song, but Burns was unexpectedly obstinate, and Alexander keeps his place; though all who sing the song must wonder what he is doing there. The heroine, Miss Lesley Baillie of Ayrshire, now Mrs. Cuming of Logie, was on her way to England through Dumfries; Burns accompanied her towards the border, and on his way home made this song in her honour, and an exquisite song it is. The poet believed that he had parodied an old song, beginning with My bonnie Lizie Bailie, I'll rowe thee in my plaidie; but the resemblance exists only in the first verse, and in the bard's imagination. It was to such casual inspirations that we owe many of his finest songs. GUDEWIFE, COUNT THE LAWIN. Gane is the day, and mirk's the night, Then, gudewife, count the lawin, There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. My coggie is a haly pool, That heals the wounds o' care and dool; And pleasure is a wanton trout An' ye drink but deep, ye'll find him out. Then, gudewife, count the lawin, Then, gudewife, count the lawin, And bring a coggie mair. Good drinking songs are few in number; and England, with all her admiration of her brown ale and her |