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CCLXVI.
HEY FOR A La.s.s WI' A TOCHER.
Tune--"_Balinamona Ora._"
[Communicated to Thomson, 17th of February, 1796, to be printed as part of the poet's contribution to the Irish melodies: he calls it "a kind of rhapsody."]
I.
Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms: O, gie me the la.s.s that has acres o' charms, O, gie me the la.s.s wi' the weel-stockit farms.
Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher, Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher; Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher, The nice yellow guineas for me.
II.
Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, And withers the faster, the faster it grows; But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes, Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white yowes.
III.
And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' beauty may cloy when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, The langer ye hae them--the mair they're carest.
Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher, Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher; Then hey for a la.s.s wi' a tocher, The nice yellow guineas for me.
CCLXVII.
JESSY.
Tune--"_Here's a health to them that's awa._"
[Written in honour of Miss Jessie Lewars, now Mrs. Thomson. Her tender and daughter-like attentions soothed the last hours of the dying poet, and if immortality can be considered a recompense, she has been rewarded.]
I.
Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear; Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear; Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!
II.
Altho' thou maun never be mine, Altho' even hope is denied; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Then aught in the world beside--Jessy!
III.
I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms: But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, For then I am lockt in thy arms--Jessy!
IV.
I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love rolling e'e; But why urge the tender confession 'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree?--Jessy!
Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear; Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear; Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!
CCLXVIII.
FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS.
Tune--"_Rothemurche._"
[On the 12th of July, 1796, as Burns lay dying at Brow, on the Solway, his thoughts wandered to early days, and this song, the last he was to measure in this world, was dedicated to Charlotte Hamilton, the maid of the Devon.]
I.
Fairest maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou were wont to do?
Full well thou know'st I love thee, dear!
Could'st thou to malice lend an ear!
O! did not love exclaim "Forbear, Nor use a faithful lover so."
II.
Then come, thou fairest of the fair, Those wonted smiles, O let me share; And by thy beauteous self I swear, No love but thine my heart shall know.
Fairest maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou were wont to do?
GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE.
I.
TO WILLIAM BURNESS.
[This was written by Burns in his twenty-third year, when learning flax-dressing in Irvine, and is the earliest of his letters which has reached us. It has much of the scriptural deference to paternal authority, and more of the Complete Letter Writer than we look for in an original mind.]
_Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781._