as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything I ever heard or read: and the lines,

"The present moment is our ain, The neist we never saw,"--

are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days.

About the year 1771, or 72, it came first on the streets as a ballad; and I suppose the composition of the song was not much anterior to that period.

TARRY WOO.

This is a very pretty song; but I fancy that the first half stanza, as well as the tune itself, are much older than the rest of the words.

GRAMACHREE.

The song of Gramachree was composed by a Mr. Poe, a counsellor at law in Dublin. This anecdote I had from a gentleman who knew the lady, the "Molly," who is the subject of the song, and to whom Mr. Poe sent the first ma.n.u.script of his most beautiful verses. I do not remember any single line that has more true pathos than

"How can she break that honest heart that wears her in its core!"

But as the song is Irish, it had nothing to do in this collection.

THE COLLIER'S BONNIE La.s.sIE.

The first half stanza is much older than the days of Ramsay.--The old words began thus:

"The collier has a dochter, and, O, she's wonder bonnie!

A laird he was that sought her, rich baith in lands and money.

She wad na hae a laird, nor wad she be a lady, But she wad hae a collier, the colour o' her daddie."

MY AIN KIND DEARIE-O.

The old words of this song are omitted here, though much more beautiful than these inserted; which were mostly composed by poor Fergusson, in one of his merry humours. The old words began thus:

"I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O, I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O, Altho' the night were ne'er sae wat, And I were ne'er sae weary, O; I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O."--

MARY SCOTT, THE FLOWER OF YARROW.

Mr. Robertson, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk, says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from the Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter was married to a predecessor of the present Sir Francis Elliot, of s...o...b.., and of the late Lord Heathfield.

There is a circ.u.mstance in their contract of marriage that merits attention, and it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times.

The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time after the marriage; for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the profits of the first Michaelmas moon!

DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.

I have been informed, that the tune of "Down the burn, Davie," was the composition of David Maigh, keeper of the blood slough hounds, belonging to the Laird of Riddel, in Tweeddale.

BLINK O'ER THE BURN, SWEET BETTIE.

The old words, all that I remember, are,--

"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, It is a cauld winter night: It rains, it hails, it thunders, The moon, she gies nae light: It's a' for the sake o' sweet Betty, That ever I tint my way; Sweet, let me lie beyond thee Until it be break o' day.--

O, Betty will bake my bread, And Betty will brew my ale, And Betty will be my love, When I come over the dale: Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, Blink over the burn to me, And while I hae life, dear la.s.sie, My ain sweet Betty thou's be."

THE BLITHSOME BRIDAL.

I find the "Blithsome Bridal" in James Watson's collection of Scots poems, printed at Edinburgh, in 1706. This collection, the publisher says, is the first of its nature which has been published in our own native Scots dialect--it is now extremely scarce.

JOHN HAY'S BONNIE La.s.sIE.

John Hay's "Bonnie La.s.sie" was daughter of John Hay, Earl or Marquis of Tweeddale, and late Countess Dowager of Roxburgh.--She died at Broomlands, near Kelso, some time between the years 1720 and 1740.

THE BONIE BRUCKET La.s.sIE.

The two first lines of this song are all of it that is old. The rest of the song, as well as those songs in the Museum marked T., are the works of an obscure, tippling, but extraordinary body of the name of Tytler, commonly known by the name of Balloon Tytler, from his having projected a balloon; a mortal, who, though he drudges about Edinburgh as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky-lighted hat, and knee-buckles as unlike as George-by-the-grace-of-G.o.d, and Solomon-the-son-of-David; yet that same unknown drunken mortal is author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous Encyclopedia Britannica, which he composed at half a guinea a week!

SAE MERRY AS WE TWA HA'E BEEN.

This song is beautiful.--The chorus in particular is truly pathetic. I never could learn anything of its author.