No More Learning

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.

THE WINSOME WEE THING.

[These words were written for Thomson: or rather made extempore. "I
might give you something more profound," says the poet, "yet it might
not suit the light-horse gallop of the air, so well as this random
clink. "]


I.

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

II.

I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer;
And niest my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.

III.

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

IV.
The warld's wrack we share o't,
The warstle and the care o't;
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
And think my lot divine.

* * * * *




CLXXXI.

BONNIE LESLEY.

["I have just," says Burns to Thomson, "been looking over the
'Collier's bonnie Daughter,' and if the following rhapsody, which I
composed the other day, on a charming Ayrshire girl, Miss Leslie
Baillie, as she passed through this place to England, will suit your
taste better than the Collier Lassie, fall on and welcome. " This lady
was soon afterwards married to Mr. Cuming, of Logie. ]


I.

O saw ye bonnie Lesley
As she ga'ed o'er the border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.

II.

To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

III.

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.

IV.

The deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face,
And say, "I canna wrang thee. "

V.