The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down wi' right good will
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I kent her heart was a' my ain;
I loved her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely!
My blessings on that happy place
Amang the rigs o' barley.

But by the moon and stars sae bright,
That shone that hour sae clearly!
She ay shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu' gathering gear;
I hae been happy thinking;
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Though three times doubled fairly,
That happy night was worth them a’
Amang the rigs o' barley.

Corn rigs an' barley rigs,

And corn rigs are bonnie;
I'll ne'er forget that happy night
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE.

The lady, in honor of whose blue eyes this fine song was written, was Miss Jeffrey of Lochmaben, now (1825) residing at New York, in America-a wife and a mother. -Allan Cunningham.

TUNE-The blathrie o't.

I GAED' a waefu' gate yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue;
I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue.

Went.-2 Way, manner, road

'Twas not her golden ringlets bright;
Her lips like roses wat wi' dew-
Her heaving bosom, lily-white-

It was her een sae bonnie blue.

She talk'd, she smiled, my heart she wyled,'
She charm'd my soul, I wist na how;
And aye the stound,' the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonnie blue.
But spare to speak, and spare to speed;
She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
To her twa een sae bonnie blue.

BLYTHE WAS SHE.

This song was written during a visit of the Poet at Ochtertyre with Sir William Murray. The lady, whom it celebrates, and who was there at the time, was Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lentrose. She was called, by way of eminence, the Flower of Strathmore. The chorus is from an old song of the same measure.

TUNE-Andro and his cutty gun.

Blythe, blythe, and merry was she,
Blythe was she but and ben;3
Blythe by the banks of Ern,

And blythe in Glenturit glen.

By Ochtertyre grows the aik,*

On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;"

But Phemie was a bonnier lass

Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.
Blythe, &c.

Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn;

She trippéd by the banks of Ern,
As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Blythe, &c.

Her bonnie face it was as meek

As onie lamb upon a lee;

1 Beguiled.-2 A shooting pain.-3 The country kitchen and parlor.4 Oak. A small wood.

The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e.
Blythe, &c.

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the Lowlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Blythe, &c.

DECEMBER NIGHT.

This song was first printed in Johnson's "Musical Museum." "The contrast of the first and last verses," says an eminent critic and poet, "is very great, yet very natural. The Poet imagines himself warmed with wine, and seated among his companions, to whom he announces, as the glass goes round, the attractions of his mistress, and his good fortune in her affections. His confidence goes no farther ;-the name of his love is not to be told; and for this poetical tyranny there is no remedy." O MAY, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet, As the mirk night o' December; For sparkling was the rosy wine, And private was the chamber: And dear was she I dare na name, But I will ay remember.

And dear was she, &c.

And here's to them, that like oursel,
Can push about the jorum;
And here's to them that wish us weel,
May a' that's good watch o'er them;
And here's to them we dare na tell,
The dearest o' the quorum.

And here's to them, &c.

PEGGY'S CHARMS.

"This song I composed on one of the most accomplished of women, Miss Peggy Chalmers that was, now Mrs. Lewis Hay, of Forbes & Co.'s Bank, Edinburgh."Burns's Reliques.

TUNE-Neil Gow's Lament for Abercairney.

WHERE braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,

Far in the shade my Peggy's charms

First blest my wondering eyes:

As one who by some savage stream
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam,
With art's most polish'd blaze.

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd―
When first I felt their power!
The tyrant Death, with grim control,
May seize my fleeting breath;
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.

Burns

TAM GLEN.

haitted this song to several of his friends as a lyric of the olden time, and heard it praised before he acknowledged it his own. The old "Tam Glen'. however, has assisted both in the conception and expression of the new.

TUNE-The mucking o' Geordie's byre.

My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie,'
Some counsel unto me come len';2
To anger them a' is a pity,

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortiths I might mak a fen':*
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller,
"Gude day to you, brute," he comes ben:"
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie' does constantly deave3 me,
And bids me beware o' young men:
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,

But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

1 A female confidante.-2 Lend.-3 Poverty.-4 Fend; to live comfortably - Must not.- Into the parlor.-7 Mother.-8 To deafen.

My daddie says, gin' I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me gude hunder2 marks ten;
But, if it's ordain'd I maun3 take him,
Oh wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen, at the valentines' dealing,
My heart to my mou gied a sten;"
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, "Tam Glen!"

The last Halloween I was waukin"
My droukit' sark-sleeve, as ye ken,
His likeness cam up the house staukin',
And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen!

Some counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry;
I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif' ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.

YOUNG JOCKEY.

First published in the Reliques, from a copy communicated to the editor,
by R. Riddel, Esq., of Glenriddel.

YOUNG Jockey was the blythest lad
In a' our town or here awa;
Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,10
Fu' lightly danced he in the ha'!
He roos'd" my een sae bonnie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae genty12 sma';
And ay my heart came to my mou,13
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Thro' wind and sleet, thro' frost and snaw;
And o'er the lee1 I look fu' fain

When Jockey's owsen" hameward ca'.16

1 If-2 An hundred.-3 Must.-4 Yesternight.-5 To rise or rear like a horse. Stiffening, or thickening. Wet.-8 Shirt.-9 If.-10 Plough.11 Praised.-12 Elegantly formed.-13 Mouth.-14 Grass fields.—15 Oxen.16 Drive.