The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 95

A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more!

The latest throb that leaves my heart, While death stands victor by, That throb, Eliza, is thy part, And thine that latest sigh!

XXV.

THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.

Tune--"_Shawnboy."_

["This song, wrote by Mr. Burns, was sung by him in the Kilmarnock-Kilwinning Lodge, in 1786, and given by him to Mr. Parker, who was Master of the Lodge." These interesting words are on the original, in the poet's handwriting, in the possession of Mr. Gabriel Neil, of Glasgow.]

I.

Ye sons of old Killie, a.s.sembled by Willie, To follow the n.o.ble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another To sit in that honoured station.

I've little to say, but only to pray, As praying's the ton of your fashion; A prayer from the muse you well may excuse, 'Tis seldom her favourite pa.s.sion.

II.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide, Who marked each element's border; Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, Whose sovereign statute is order; Within this dear mansion, may wayward contention Or withered envy ne'er enter; May secrecy round be the mystical bound, And brotherly love be the centre.

XXVI.

MENIE.

Tune.--"_Johnny's grey breeks._"

[Of the lady who inspired this song no one has given any account: It first appeared in the second edition of the poet's works, and as the chorus was written by an Edinburgh gentleman, it has been surmised that the song was a matter of friendship rather than of the heart.]

I.

Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe a.s.sume its vernal hues, Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?

For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be.

II.

In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me the vi'lets spring; In vain to me, in glen or shaw, The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

III.

The merry plough-boy cheers his team, Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks; But life to me's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks.

IV.

The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, The stately swan majestic swims, And every thing is blest but I.

V.

The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, And owre the moorland whistles shrill; Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, I meet him on the dewy hill.

VI.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, And mounts and sings on flittering wings, A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.

VII.

Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, And raging bend the naked tree: Thy gloom will sooth my cheerless soul, When nature all is sad like me!

And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?

For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be.

XXVII.

THE FAREWELL

TO THE

BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE,

TARBOLTON.

Tune--"_Good-night, and joy be wi' you a'._"

[Burns, it is said, sung this song in the St. James's Lodge of Tarbolton, when his chest was on the way to Greenock: men are yet living who had the honour of hearing him--the concluding verse affected the whole lodge.]

I.

Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu!

Dear brothers of the mystic tie!

Ye favour'd, ye enlighten'd few, Companions of my social joy!

Tho' I to foreign lands must hie, Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba', With melting heart, and brimful eye, I'll mind you still, tho' far awa'.

II.