No More Learning

YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.

Tune--"_Yon wild mossy mountains. _"

["This song alludes to a part of my private history, which is of no
consequence to the world to know. " These are the words of Burns: he
sent the song to the Musical Museum; the heroine is supposed to be the
"Nannie," who dwelt near the Lugar. ]


I.

Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

II.

Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

III.

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path,
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow strath;
For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o' love.
For there wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o' love.

IV.

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.
Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

V.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een, as they flee to our hearts.

VI.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me:
And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!
And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

* * * * *




CIII.

IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE.

Tune--"_The Maid's Complaint. _"

[Burns found this song in English attire, bestowed a Scottish dress
upon it, and published it in the Museum, together with the air by
Oswald, which is one of his best. ]


I.

It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho' thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awake desire.
Something in ilka part o' thee,
To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.

II.