No More Learning

[This is the first song composed by Burns for the national collection
of Thomson: it was written in October, 1792. "On reading over the
Lea-rig," he says, "I immediately set about trying my hand on it, and,
after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following. " The
first and second verses were only sent: Burns added the third and last
verse in December. ]


I.

When o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo;
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary, O!
Down by the burn, where scented birks[137]
Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo;
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie O!

II.

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,
I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O;
If thro' that glen I gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie O!
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae wearie, O,
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie O!

III.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen,
Alang the burn to steer, my jo;
Gie me the hour o' gloamin gray,
It maks my heart sae cheery, O,
To meet thee on the lea-ring,
My ain kind dearie O!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 137: For "scented birks," in some copies, "birken buds. "]

* * * * *




CLXXIX.

TO MARY CAMPBELL.

["In my very early years," says Burns to Thomson "when I was thinking
of going to the West Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear
girl.
You must know that all my earlier love-songs were the breathings
of ardent passion, and though it might have been easy in after times
to have given them a polish, yet that polish, to me, would have
defaced the legend of my heart, so faithfully inscribed on them.
Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their race. " The
heroine of this early composition was Highland Mary. ]


I.

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave old Scotia's shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th' Atlantic's roar?

II.

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
But a' the charms o' the Indies
Can never equal thine.

III.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
And sae may the Heavens forget me
When I forget my vow!

IV.

O plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily white hand;
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia's strand.

V.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join;
And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour and the moment o' time!

* * * * *




CLXXX.