No More Learning

'TWAS NA HER BONNIE BLUE EEN.

Tune--"_Laddie, lie near me. _"

[Though the lady who inspired these verses is called Mary by the poet,
such, says tradition, was not her name: yet tradition, even in this,
wavers, when it avers one while that Mrs. Riddel, and at another time
that Jean Lorimer was the heroine. ]


I.

'Twas na her bonnie blue een was my ruin;
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing:
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
'Twas the bewitching, sweet stown glance o' kindness.

II.

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me!
But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.

III.

Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest!
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter--
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.

* * * * *




CCLIII.

HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS.

Tune--"_John Anderson, my jo.
_"

["I am at this moment," says Burns to Thomson, when he sent him this
song, "holding high converse with the Muses, and have not a word to
throw away on a prosaic dog, such as you are. " Yet there is less than
the poet's usual inspiration in this lyric, for it is altered from an
English one. ]


I.

How cruel are the parents
Who riches only prize,
And, to the wealthy booby,
Poor woman sacrifice!
Meanwhile the hapless daughter
Has but a choice of strife;
To shun a tyrant father's hate,
Become a wretched wife.

II.

The ravening hawk pursuing,
The trembling dove thus flies,
To shun impelling ruin
Awhile her pinions tries:
Till of escape despairing,
No shelter or retreat,
She trusts the ruthless falconer,
And drops beneath his feet!

* * * * *




CCLIV.

MARK YONDER POMP.

Tune--"_Deil tak the wars. _"

[Burns tells Thomson, in the letter enclosing this song, that he is in
a high fit of poetizing, provided he is not cured by the
strait-waistcoat of criticism. "You see," said he, "how I answer your
orders; your tailor could not be more punctual. " This strain in honour
of Chloris is original in conception, but wants the fine lyrical flow
of some of his other compositions. ]


I.

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
Round the wealthy, titled bride:
But when compar'd with real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride.
What are the showy treasures?