When rosy May comes in wi' flowers, To deck her gay green-spreading bowers, Then busy, busy are his hours-- The gard'ner wi' his paidle The crystal waters gently fa'; The merry birds are lovers a'; The scented breezes round him blaw-- The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

II.

When purple morning starts the hare To steal upon her early fare, Then thro' the dews he maun repair-- The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

When day, expiring in the west, The curtain draws of nature's rest, He flies to her arms he lo'es best-- The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

LXVIII.

BLOOMING NELLY.

Tune--"_On a bank of flowers._"

[One of the lyrics of Allan Ramsay's collection seems to have been in the mind of Burns when he wrote this: the words and air are in the Museum.]

I.

On a bank of flowers, in a summer day, For summer lightly drest, The youthful blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie wand'ring thro' the wood, Who for her favour oft had sued, He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd, And trembled where he stood.

II.

Her closed eyes like weapons sheath'd, Were seal'd in soft repose; Her lips still as she fragrant breath'd, It richer dy'd the rose.

The springing lilies sweetly prest, Wild--wanton, kiss'd her rival breast; He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd-- His bosom ill at rest.

III.

Her robes light waving in the breeze Her tender limbs embrace; Her lovely form, her native ease, All harmony and grace: Tumultuous tides his pulses roll, A faltering, ardent kiss he stole; He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd, And sigh'd his very soul.

IV.

As flies the partridge from the brake, On fear-inspired wings, So Nelly, starting, half awake, Away affrighted springs: But Willie follow'd, as he should, He overtook her in a wood; He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid Forgiving all and good.

LXIX.

THE DAY RETURNS.

Tune--"_Seventh of November._"

[The seventh of November was the anniversary of the marriage of Mr.

and Mrs. Riddel, of Friars-Ca.r.s.e, and these verses were composed in compliment to the day.]

I.

The day returns, my bosom burns, The blissful day we twa did meet, Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd, Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.

Than a' the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o'er the sultry line; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes, Heaven gave me more--it made thee mine!

II.

While day and night can bring delight, Or nature aught of pleasure give, While joys above my mind can move, For thee, and thee alone I live.

When that grim foe of life below, Comes in between to make us part, The iron hand that breaks our band, It breaks my bliss--it breaks my heart.

LXX.

MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A La.s.sIE YET.

Tune--"_Lady Bandinscoth's Reel._"

[These verses had their origin in an olden strain, equally lively and less delicate: some of the old lines keep their place: the t.i.tle is old. Both words and all are in the Musical Museum.]

I.

My love she's but a la.s.sie yet, My love she's but a la.s.sie yet, We'll let her stand a year or twa, Sh.e.l.l no be half so saucy yet.

I rue the day I sought her, O; I rue the day I sought her, O; Wha gets her needs na say he's woo'd, But he may say he's bought her, O!

II.

Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet; Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet; Gae seek for pleasure where ye will, But here I never miss'd it yet.

We're a' dry wi' drinking o't; We're a' dry wi' drinking o't; The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife, An' could na preach for thinkin' o't.

LXXI.

JAMIE, COME TRY ME.

Tune--"_Jamy, come try me._"

[Burns in these verses caught up the starting note of an old song, of which little more than the starting words deserve to be remembered: the word and air are in the Musical Museum.]