MOUSE'S NEST, AND MOUNTAIN DAISY.

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The parent pair their secret homage pay,

And proffer up to Heaven the warm request
That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best,
For them and for their little ones provide;
But chiefly, in their hearts, with grace divine preside."

vol. iii. p. 174— 181. The charm of the fine lines written on turning up a mouse's nest with the plough, will also be found to consist in the simple tenderness of the delineation.

"Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the wins are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!

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An' bleak December's winds ensuin,

Baith snell and keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,

An' cozie here beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

"Till crash! the cruel coulter past

Out thro' thy cell.

"That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,

To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

An' cranreuch cauld!"- vol. iii. p. 147.

The verses to a Mountain Daisy, though more elegant and picturesque, seem to derive their chief beauty from the same tone of sentiment.

"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure

Thy slender stem;

Το spare thee now is past my pow'r,

Thou bonnie gem!

There are many touches of the same kind in most of the popular and beautiful poems in this collection, especially in the Winter Night- the address to his old Mare

the address to the Devil, &c.;-in all which, though the greater part of the piece be merely ludicrous and picturesque, there are traits of a delicate and tender feeling, indicating that unaffected softness of heart which is always so enchanting. In the humorous address to the Devil, which we have just mentioned, every Scottish reader must have felt the effect of this relenting nature in the following stanzas:

Still hae a stake

I'm wae to think upo' yon den,

Ev'n for your sake!"— vol. iii. p. 74-76. The finest examples, however, of this simple and unpretending tenderness is to be found in those Songs which are likely to transmit the name of Burns to all future generations. He found this delightful trait in the old

COPIES TONE OF OLD SCOTTISH BALLADS.

161

Scottish ballads which he took for his model, and upon which he has improved with a felicity and delicacy of imitation altogether unrivalled in the history of literature. Sometimes it is the brief and simple pathos of the genuine old ballad; as,

66

may be ;

But I look to the West when I lie down to rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers
For far in the West lives he I love best,
The lad that is dear to my baby and me."

Or, as in this other specimen

Sometimes it is animated with airy narrative, and adorned with images of the utmost elegance and beauty. As a specimen taken at random, we insert the following

4

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BURNS

SIMPLE PATHOS OF HIS SONGS,

"As in the bosom o' the stream

The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en;

So trembling, pure, was infant love

Within the breast o' bonie Jean!"-vol. iv. p. 80.

Sometimes, again, it is plaintive and mournful—in the same strain of unaffected simplicity.

"O stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray!
A hapless lover courts thy lay,

Thy soothing fond complaining.

Again, again, that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that would touch her heart,
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.

Say, was thy little mate unkind,

And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' woe could wauken.

"Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!

Or my poor heart is broken!"-vol. iv. p. 226, 227.

We add the following from Mr. Cromek's new volume; as the original form of the very popular song given at p. 325. of Dr. Currie's 4th volume:

"Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,

How can ye blume sae fair;

How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

"Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird

That sings upon the bough:
Thou minds me o' the happy days

When my fause luve was true.

"Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird

That sings beside thy mate;

For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

"Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,

To see the woodbine twine,

And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And sae did I o' mine.

AND REDUNDANT IMAGERY.

"Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree,

And my fause luver staw the rose,

But left the thorn wi' me."-vol. v. p. 17, 18.

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Sometimes the rich imagery of the poet's fancy overshadows and almost overcomes the leading sentiment.

"The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks,

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But life to me's a weary dream,

A dream of ane that never wauks.

The wanton coot the water skims,

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

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

"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.'

vol. iii. p. 284, 285.

The sensibility which is thus associated with simple imagery and gentle melancholy, is to us the most winning and attractive. But Burns has also expressed it when it is merely the instrument of torture-of keen remorse, and tender and agonizing regret. There are some strong traits of the former feeling, in the poems entitled the Lament, Despondency, &c.; when, looking back to the times

"When love's luxurious pulse beat high,"

he bewails the consequences of his own irregularities. There is something cumbrous and inflated, however, in the diction of these pieces. We are infinitely more moved with his Elegy upon Highland Mary. Of this first love of the poet, we are indebted to Mr. Cromek for a brief, but very striking account, from the pen of the poet himself. In a note on an early song inscribed to this mistress, he had recorded in a manuscript book

"My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted, charming young creature as ever blessed a man with generous love. After a pretty long