XXII.

YOUNG PEGGY.

Tune--"_Last time I cam o'er the muir._"

[In these verses Burns, it is said, bade farewell to one on whom he had, according to his own account, wasted eights months of courtship.

We hear no more of Montgomery's Peggy.]

I.

Young Peggy blooms our bonniest la.s.s, Her blush is like the morning, The rosy dawn, the springing gra.s.s, With early gems adorning: Her eyes outshone the radiant beams That gild the pa.s.sing shower, And glitter o'er the crystal streams, And cheer each fresh'ning flower.

II.

Her lips, more than the cherries bright, A richer dye has graced them; They charm th' admiring gazer's sight, And sweetly tempt to taste them: Her smile is, as the evening mild, When feather'd tribes are courting, And little lambkins wanton wild, In playful bands disporting.

III.

Were fortune lovely Peggy's foe, Such sweetness would relent her, As blooming spring unbends the brow Of surly, savage winter.

Detraction's eye no aim can gain, Her winning powers to lessen; And fretful envy grins in vain The poison'd tooth to fasten.

IV.

Ye powers of honour, love, and truth, From every ill defend her; Inspire the highly-favour'd youth, The destinies intend her: Still fan the sweet connubial flame Responsive in each bosom, And bless the dear parental name With many a filial blossom.

XXIII.

THE CURE FOR ALL CARE.

Tune--"_Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern_ _let's fly._"

[Tarbolton Lodge, of which the poet was a member, was noted for its socialities. Masonic lyrics are all of a dark and mystic order; and those of Burns are scarcely an exception.]

I.

No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business, contriving to snare-- For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.

II.

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low; But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

III.

Here pa.s.ses the squire on his brother--his horse; There centum per centum, the cit with his purse; But see you The Crown, how it waves in the air!

There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.

IV.

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die; For sweet consolation to church I did fly; I found that old Solomon proved it fair, That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.

V.

I once was persuaded a venture to make; A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;-- But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs, With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

VI.

"Life's cares they are comforts,"[136]--a maxim laid down By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown; And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair; For a big-bellied bottle's a heav'n of care.

VII.

ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.

Then fill up a b.u.mper and make it o'erflow.

The honours masonic prepare for to throw; May every true brother of the compa.s.s and square Have a big-bellied bottle when hara.s.s'd with care!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 136: Young's Night Thoughts.]

XXIV.

ELIZA.

Tune--"_Gilderoy._"

[My late excellent friend, John Galt, informed me that the Eliza of this song was his relative, and that her name was Elizabeth Barbour.]

I.

From thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native sh.o.r.e; The cruel Fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar: But boundless oceans roaring wide Between my love and me, They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee!

II.

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore!