Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, festive night; Oft honour'd with supreme command, Presided o'er the sons of light: And by that hieroglyphic bright, Which none but craftsmen ever saw!

Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write Those happy scenes when far awa'.

III.

May freedom, harmony, and love Unite you in the grand design, Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above, The glorious architect divine!

That you may keep th' unerring line, Still rising by the plummet's law, Till order bright completely shine, Shall be my pray'r when far awa'.

IV.

And you farewell! whose merits claim, Justly, that highest badge to wear!

Heav'n bless your honour'd, n.o.ble name, To masonry and Scotia dear!

A last request permit me here, When yearly ye a.s.semble a', One round--I ask it with a tear,-- To him, the Bard that's far awa'.

XXVIII.

ON CESSNOCK BANKS.

Tune--"_If he be a butcher neat and trim._"

[There are many variations of this song, which was first printed by Cromek from the oral communication of a Glasgow Lady, on whose charms, the poet, in early life, composed it.]

I.

On Cessnock banks a la.s.sie dwells; Could I describe her shape and mien; Our la.s.ses a' she far excels, An she has twa sparkling roguish een.

II.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn When rising Phoebus first is seen, And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een

III.

She's stately like yon youthful ash, That grows the cowslip braes between, And drinks the stream with vigour fresh; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

IV.

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn, With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, When purest in the dewy morn; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

V.

Her looks are like the vernal May, When evening Phoebus shines serene, While birds rejoice on every spray-- An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

VI.

Her hair is like the curling mist That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

VII.

Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, When gleaming sunbeams intervene, And gild the distant mountain's brow; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

VIII.

Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem, The pride of all the flow'ry scene, Just opening on its th.o.r.n.y stem; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

IX.

Her teeth are like the nightly snow When pale the morning rises keen, While hid the murmuring streamlets flow; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een

X.

Her lips are like yon cherries ripe, That sunny walls from Boreas screen-- They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she has twa, sparkling roguish een.

XI.

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, With fleeces newly washen clean, That slowly mount the rising steep; An' she has twa glancin' roguish een.

XII.

Her breath is like the fragrant breeze That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, When Phoebus sinks behind the seas; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

XIII.

Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush That sings on Cessnock banks unseen, While his mate sits nestling in the bush; An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

XIV.

But it's not her air, her form, her face, Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen, 'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, An' chiefly in her roguish een.

XXIX.

MARY!

Tune--"_Blue Bonnets._"

[In the original ma.n.u.script Burns calls this song "A Prayer for Mary;"

his Highland Mary is supposed to be the inspirer.]