as it were, till September. When the travellers were at St. Mary's Isle (in July) the seat of Lord Selkirk, Syme (in the same letter) alludes to their meeting Urbaui; and Burns in September tells Thomson that he showed the air of the song, "Hey tuttie taitie," to that once well-known composer, and Urbani begged him to make soft verses for it, but "I had no idea," says the poet, "of giving myself any trouble about it till the accidental recollection roused my rhyming mania." Yesternight's mania of course! The air to which this song is written, is supposed to have been Bruce's March at the Battle of Bannockburn. To suit a whim of Mr. Thomson, the last line of each stanza was afterwards lengthened and weakened.] HERE'S A HEALTH TO ANE I LO'E DEAR. ROBERT BURNS. CHORUS. 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, Although thou maun never be mine, Although even hope is denied; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside-Jessy! I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, VOL. II. I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love-rolling ee; 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, [These lines so equisitely tender and beautiful were written in praise of Jessy Lewars, now Mrs. James Thomson of Dumfries, to whom Burns during his last hours addressed some of his most affect. ing verses. The young lady watched over the great poet in his last illness, and soothed down some of his bitterest moments; her kindliness and attention has been rewarded by immortality. The song to Jessy is, as Currie tells us, "the last finished offspring of Burns' muse." The Editor has good authority in stating that Jessy Lewars was the heroine of another of Burns' songs: Oh wert thou in the cauld blast On yonder lea, on yonder lea which the poet wrote to continue something of the sentiment contained in the whimsical old verses: The Robin came to the wren's nest, the honour of being the heroine of this song, Mr. Cunningham has given to Mrs. Riddel. See Works, vol. v. p. 72.] MARY OF CASTLE-CARY. HECTOR MACNEILL. Born 1746-Died 1818. Saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, Red, red are her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses, I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing, But I met my bonnie thing late in the gloaming, It was nae my wee thing, it was nae my ain thing, She never loved ony till ance she lo'ed me. It was then your Mary; she's frae Castle-cary, Sweet were the kisses that she gave to me. Ye'se rue sair this morning your boasts and your scorning, Defend ye fause traitor, fu' loudly ye lie. Away wi' beguiling, cried the youth smiling- Is it my true love here that I see: O Jamie forgie me, your heart's constant to me, COME UNDER MY PLAIDY. HECTOR MACNEILL. Come under my plaidy, the night's gaun to fa,' Gae wa' wi' your plaidy! auld Donald, gae wa' Ye might be my gutcher, auld Donald, gae wa' ! O nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu' or tightly! Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa', My father aye taul'd me, my mither and a', |