No More Learning

Fair is the morn in flow'ry May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But woman, nature's darling child!
There all her charms she does compile;
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

IV.

O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotland's plain,
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy, with rapture, I would toil;
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonnie lass of Ballochmyle.

V.

Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine:
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep
Or downward seek the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks, or till the soil,
And ev'ry day have joys divine
With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

* * * * *




XXXI.

THE GLOOMY NIGHT.

Tune--"_Roslin Castle. _"

["I had taken," says Burns, "the last farewell of my friends, my chest
was on the road to Greenock, and I had composed the last song I should
ever measure in Caledonia--

'The gloomy night is gathering fast. '"]


I.

The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast;
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure;
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

II.

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
By early Winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid, azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave--
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

III.
'Tis not the surging billow's roar,
'Tis not that fatal deadly shore;
Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear!
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

IV.

Farewell old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!
Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those--
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!

* * * * *




XXXII.

O WHAR DID YE GET

Tune--"_Bonnie Dundee. _"

[This is one of the first songs which Burns communicated to Johnson's
Musical Museum: the starting verse is partly old and partly new: the
second is wholly by his hand. ]


I.

O, whar did ye get that hauver meal bannock?
O silly blind body, O dinna ye see?
I gat it frae a young brisk sodger laddie,
Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee.
O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!
Aft has he doudl'd me up on his knee;
May Heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie,
And send him safe hame to his babie and me!