Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa; Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie, That lives at the lug o' the law!

Here's freedom to him that wad read, Here's freedom to him that wad write!

There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard, But they wham the truth wad indite.

IV.

Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd, Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw!

Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa; And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause, May never guid luck be their fa'!

CCXLIV.

IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY.

Tune--"_For a' that, and a' that._"

[In this n.o.ble lyric Burns has vindicated the natural right of his species. He modestly says to Thomson, "I do not give you this song for your book, but merely by way of _vive la bagatelle_; for the piece is really not poetry, but will be allowed to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme." Thomson took the song, but hazarded no praise.]

I.

Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that?

The coward-slave, we pa.s.s him by, We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that!

II.

What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man, for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that!

III.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd--a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that: For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that.

IV.

A king can make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that, But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that.

V.

Then let us pray that come it may-- As come it will for a' that-- That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that; For a' that, and a' that, It's comin' yet for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that!

CCXLV.

CRAIGIE-BURN WOOD.

[Craigie-burn Wood was written for George Thomson: the heroine was Jean Lorimer. How often the blooming looks and elegant forms of very indifferent characters lend a lasting l.u.s.tre to painting and poetry.]

I.

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigie-burn, And blithe awakes the morrow; But a' the pride o' spring's return Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

II.

I see the flowers and spreading trees I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wight can please, And care his bosom wringing?

III.

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart, Yet dare na for your anger; But secret love will break my heart, If I conceal it langer.

IV.

If thou refuse to pity me, If thou shall love anither, When yon green leaves fade frae the tree, Around my grave they'll wither.

CCXLVI.

O La.s.sIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET.

Tune--"_Let me in this ae night._"

[The thoughts of Burns, it is said, wandered to the fair Mrs. Riddel, of Woodleigh Park, while he composed this song for Thomson. The idea is taken from an old lyric, of more spirit than decorum.]

I.

O La.s.sie, art thou sleeping yet, Or art thou waking, I would wit?

For love has bound me hand and foot, And I would fain be in, jo.

O let me in this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night; For pity's sake this ae night, O rise and let me in, jo!

II.

Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet!

Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet: Tak pity on my weary feet, And shield me frae the rain, jo.