CCIX.

THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.

Tune--"_Fee him, father._"

["I do not give these verses," says Burns to Thomson, "for any merit they have. I composed them at the time in which 'Patie Allan's mither died, about the back o' midnight,' and by the lee side of a bowl of punch, which had overset every mortal in company, except the hautbois and the muse." To the poet's intercourse with musicians we owe some fine songs.]

I.

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie!

Thou hast left me ever; Thou hast left me ever, Jamie!

Thou hast left me ever.

Aften hast thou vow'd that death Only should us sever; Now thou's left thy la.s.s for ay-- I maun see thee never, Jamie, I'll see thee never!

II.

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie!

Thou hast me forsaken; Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie!

Thou hast me forsaken.

Thou canst love anither jo, While my heart is breaking: Soon my weary een I'll close, Never mair to waken, Jamie, Ne'er mair to waken!

CCX.

AULD LANG SYNE.

["Is not the Scotch phrase," Burns writes to Mrs. Dunlop, "Auld lang syne, exceedingly expressive? There is an old song and tune which has often thrilled through my soul: I shall give you the verses on the other sheet. Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who composed this glorious fragment." "The following song," says the poet, when he communicated it to George Thomson, "an old song of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in ma.n.u.script, until I took it down from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air." These are strong words, but there can be no doubt that, save for a line or two, we owe the song to no other minstrel than "minstrel Burns."]

I.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne!

II.

We twa hae run about the braes, And pu't the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot, Sin' auld lang syne.

III.

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun till dine: But seas between us braid hae roar'd, Sin' auld lang syne.

IV.

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll take a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang syne.

V.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne!

CCXI.

FAIR JEANY.

Tune--"_Saw ye my father?_"

[In September, 1793, this song, as well as several others, was communicated to Thomson by Burns. "Of the poetry," he says, "I speak with confidence: but the music is a business where I hint my ideas with the utmost diffidence."]

I.

Where are the joys I have met in the morning, That danc'd to the lark's early song?

Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring, At evening the wild woods among?

II.

No more a-winding the course of yon river, And marking sweet flow'rets so fair: No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure, But sorrow and sad sighing care.

III.

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys, And grim, surly winter is near?

No, no, the bees' humming round the gay roses, Proclaim it the pride of the year.

IV.

Fain would I hide, what I fear to discover, Yet long, long too well have I known, All that has caused this wreck in my bosom, Is Jeany, fair Jeany alone.

V.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, Nor hope dare a comfort bestow: Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish, Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.