For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; You see yon birkie' ca'd a lord, His riband, star, and a' that; A prince can mak a belted knight, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, When man to man, the warld o'er, CAPTAIN GROSE. The following verses were written in an envelope, inclosing a letter to TUNE-Sir John Malcolm. KEN ye aught o' Captain Grose? If he's amang his friends or foes? Iram, coram, dago. 1 Fine fellow.-2 Blockhead.-3 Above. He must not try, or attempt that.-5 The laurel, the victory. Is he south, or is he north? Or drowned in the river Forth? Is he slain by Highland bodies? And eaten like a wether-haggis? Is he to Abraham's bosom gane? Or haudin' Sarah by the wame? Where'er he be, the Lord be near him, As for the Deil, he daur na steer1 him. Iram, coram, dago. But please transmit th' incloséd letter, Igo, & ago, Which will oblige your humble debtor. So may ye hae auld stanes in store, The very stanes that Adam bore. So may ye get in glad possession, The coins o' Satan's coronation! Iram, coram, dago. 1 Dare not molest. MY AIN KIND DEARIE O. This is the first song which Burns wrote for Mr. Thomson's collection. Dr. Currie supposes it to have been suggested to the Poet's fancy by the old song of the "Ploughman," beginning "My ploughman he comes hame at e'en, He's aften weet an' weary, Cast aff the weet, put on the dry, TUNE-The Lea-rig. WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star My ain kind dearie O. 4. In mirkest glen, at midnight hour, Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild, My ain kind dearie O. The hunter lo'es the morning sun, 1 The time of collecting the sheep in the pens to be milked.-2 Oxen.— Pithless. Grassy ridge.—5 Darkest.—6 Frighted.—7 Went.— o Twi• light. PEGGY'S CHARMS. This is one of the many songs which Burns wrote for the Museum, and an ex cellent song it is. The second verse is admirable, both in sentiment and ex. pression. My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, The lily's hue, the rose's dye, LORD GREGORY. This song appears to have been suggested to the Poet's fancy, by the "Lass of Lochroyan," a very old ballad, a fragment of which will be found in Herd's collection, 1774. A copy of it still more enlarged has since been published in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." Oн mirk, mirk is this midnight hour, And loud the tempest's roar; A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower- An exile frae her father's ha', At least some pity on me shaw,' If love it may na be. Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove, By bonnie Irwine side, When first I own'd that virgin-love I lang, lang had denied? 1 Show. How aften didst thou pledge and vow, And my fond heart, itsel sae true, Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, Thou dart of heaven, that flashest by, Ye mustering thunders from above, But spare and pardon my false love FRAGMENT. These are eight beautiful lines. They are too few to sing, too good to cast away, and too peculiar and happy ever to be eked out by a hand inferior to the hand of their Author. They will long continue a fragment.-Cunningham's Scottish Songs. HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, THE BLISSFUL DAY. "I composed this song," says Burns, "out of compliment to one of the happiest and worthiest married couples in the world-Robert Riddel, Esq., of Glenriddel, and his lady. At their fireside I have enjoyed more pleasant evenings than all the houses of fashionable people in this country put together; and to their kindness and hospitality I am indebted for many of the happiest hours of my life." TUNE-Seventh of November. THE day returns, my bosom burns, Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet: |