Anbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
He gies a Fête Champetre.

When Love and Beauty heard the news,
The gay green-woods amang, man;
Where gathering flowers and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man;
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss

Sir Politicks to fetter,

As their's alone, the patent-bliss,
To hold a Fête Champetre.

Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man:
She summon'd every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On th' bonny banks of Ayr to meet,
And keep this Fête Champetre.

Cauld Boreas, wi' his boisterous crew,
Were bound to stakes like kye, man;

And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu',
Clamb up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
Or down the current shatter;

The western breeze steals through the trees,
To view this Fête Champetre.

How many a robe sae gaily floats!

What sparkling jewels glance, man!

To Harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy dance, man.
The echoing wood, the winding flood,
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met, at Adam's yett,
To hold their Fête Champetre.

When Politics came there, to mix
And make his ether-stane, man!
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore 't, every letter,

Wi' humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fête Champetre

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT.

This is no exaggerated picture of the desolation which was commanded and sanctioned by the Duke of Cumberland in putting down the rebellion in 1745.

OH! I am come to the low countrie,

Och-on, och-on, och-rie!

Without a penny in my purse,

To buy a meal to me.

It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Nae woman in the country wide
Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o' kye,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Feeding on yon hills so high,
And giving milk to me.

And there I had three score o' yowes,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Skipping on yon bonnie knowes,
And casting woo' to ine.

I was the happiest of a' the clan,
Sair, sair may I repine;
For Donald was the brawest lad,
And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie Stewart cam' at last,
Sae far to set us free;

My Donald's arm was wanted then,
For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu' fate what need I tell,
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his country fell
Upon Culloden's field.

Oh! I am come to the low countrie,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!

Nae woman in the world wide
Sae wretched now as me.

PEG-A-RAMSEY.

The old song of this name was a very famous amatory song.

Tune-Cauld is the e'ening blast.

CAULD is the e'enin' blast

O' Boreas o'er the pool,
And dawin' it is dreary

When birks are bare at Yule.

O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast
When bitter bites the frost,
And in the mirk and dreary drift
The hills and glens are lost.

Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But a bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey
Gat grist to her mill.

THERE WAS A BONNIE LASS.
An unfinished sketch.

THERE was a bonnie lass,

And a bonnie, bonnie lass,

And she lo'ed her bonnie laddie dear;

Till war's loud alarms,

Tore her laddie frae her arms,

Wi' mony a sigh and tear.

Over sea, over shore,

Where the cannons loudly roar,

He still was a stranger to fear:
And nocht could him quell,

Or his bosom assail,

But the bonnie lass he lo'ed sae dear.

O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET, This stands the last of the communications to the Museum. It is said to have been produced on seeing a young countrywoman with her shoes and stockings packed carefully up, and her petticoats kilted, which shewed

'Her straight bare legs, that whiter were than snaw.”

O MALLY's meek, Mally's sweet,

Mally's modest and discreet,

Mally's rare, Mally's fair,

Mally's every way complete. As I was walking up the street,

A barefit maid I chanced to meet;
But O the road was very hard

For that fair maiden's tender feet.
It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon,
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare,

Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck, And her two eyes, like stars in skies,

Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,

Mally's modest and discreet,

Mally's rare, Mally's fair,

Mally's every way complete.

ADDITIONAL

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

THE FAREWELL.

These beautiful and affecting stanzas were composed under great distress of mind, when his prospects in life were so gloomy, that his only hope for success seemed to be directed to obtaining a situation in the West Indies.

FAREWELL, old Scotia's bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains
Where rich ananas blow!
Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!
A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
My Jean's heart-rending throe!
Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft
Of my parental care;

A faithful brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
Adieu too, to you too,

My Smith, my bosom frien';
When kindly you mind me,

O then befriend my Jean!

What bursting anguish tears my heart!
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!