No More Learning

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim, surly winter is near?
No, no, the bees' humming round the gay roses,
Proclaim it the pride of the year.

IV.

Fain would I hide, what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well have I known,
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jeany, fair Jeany alone.

V.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor hope dare a comfort bestow:
Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.

* * * * *




CCXII.

DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE.

[To the air of the "Collier's dochter," Burns bids Thomson add the
following old Bacchanal: it is slightly altered from a rather stiff
original. ]


I.

Deluded swain, the pleasure
The fickle fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure--
Thy hopes will soon deceive thee.

II.

The billows on the ocean,
The breezes idly roaming,
The clouds uncertain motion--
They are but types of woman.

III.

O!
art thou not ashamed
To doat upon a feature?
If man thou wouldst be named,
Despise the silly creature.

IV.

Go find an honest fellow;
Good claret set before thee:
Hold on till thou art mellow,
And then to bed in glory.

* * * * *




CCXIII.

NANCY.

[This song was inspired by the charms of Clarinda. In one of the
poet's manuscripts the song commences thus:

Thine am I, my lovely Kate,
Well thou mayest discover
Every pulse along my veins
Tell the ardent lover.

This change was tried out of compliment, it is believed, to Mrs.
Thomson; but Nancy ran more smoothly on the even road of lyrical verse
than Kate. ]


I.

Thine am I, my faithful fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy.

II.

To thy bosom lay my heart,
There to throb and languish:
Tho' despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.

III.

Take away those rosy lips,
Rich with balmy treasure:
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure.