My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream-- Flow gently, sweet Afton! disturb not her dream.

CXLII.

THE SMILING SPRING.

Tune--"_The Bonnie Bell._"

["Bonnie Bell," was first printed in the Museum: who the heroine was the poet has neglected to tell us, and it is a pity.]

I.

The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, And bonnie blue are the sunny skies; Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning, The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell; All creatures joy in the sun's returning, And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.

II.

The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer, And yellow Autumn presses near, Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter, Till smiling Spring again appear.

Thus Seasons dancing, life advancing, Old Time and Nature their changes tell, But never ranging, still unchanging, I adore my bonnie Bell.

CXLIII.

THE CARLES OF DYSART.

Tune--"_Hey ca' thro'._"

[Communicated to the Museum by Burns in his own handwriting: part of it is his composition, and some believe the whole.]

I.

Up wi' the carles o' Dysart, And the lads o' Buckhaven, And the kimmers o' Largo, And the la.s.ses o' Leven.

Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', For we hae mickle ado; Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', For we hae mickle ado.

II.

We hae tales to tell, And we hae sangs to sing; We hae pennies to spend, And we hae pints to bring.

III.

We'll live a' our days, And them that come behin', Let them do the like, And spend the gear they win.

Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', For we hae mickle ado, Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', For we hae mickle ado.

CXLIV.

THE GALLANT WEAVER.

Tune--"_The Weavers' March._"

[Sent by the poet to the Museum. Neither tradition nor criticism has noticed it, but the song is popular among the looms, in the west of Scotland.]

I.

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flow'r and spreading tree, There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant weaver.

Oh, I had wooers aught or nine, They gied me rings and ribbons fine; And I was fear'd my heart would tine, And I gied it to the weaver.

II.

My daddie sign'd my tocher-band, To gie the lad that has the land; But to my heart I'll add my hand, And gie it to the weaver.

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; While bees delight in op'ning flowers; While corn grows green in simmer showers, I'll love my gallant weaver.

CXLV.

THE BAIRNS GAT OUT.

Tune--"_The deuks dang o'er my daddie._"

[Burns found some of the sentiments and a few of the words of this song in a strain, rather rough and home-spun, of Scotland's elder day.

He communicated it to the Museum.]

I.

The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout, The deuks dang o'er my daddie, O!

The fien'-ma-care, quo' the feirrie auld wife, He was but a paidlin body, O!

He paidles out, an' he paidles in, An' he paidles late an' early, O!

This seven lang years I hae lien by his side, An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O!

II.