JOHNNY.

My Nelly, let never sic fancies oppress ye;
For while my blood's warm I'll kindly caress ye :
Your saft blooming beauties first kindled love's fire,
Your virtue and wit mak' it aye flame the higher.
Leave thee, leave thee! I'll never leave thee,
Gang the warld as it will, dearest, believe me!

NELLY.

Then, Johnny, I frankly this minute allow ye
To think me your mistress, for love gars me trow ye;
And gin ye prove false, to yoursel' be it said then,
Ye win but sma' honour to wrang a puir maiden.
Reave me, reave me, oh, it would reave me
Of my rest night and day, if you deceive me!

JOHNNY.

Bid ice-shogles hammer red gauds on the studdy,
And fair summer mornings nae mair appear ruddy;
Bid Britons think ae gate, and when they obey thee,
But never till that time, believe I'll betray thee.
Leave thee, leave thee! I'll never leave thee;
The starns shall gae withershins ere I deceive thee.

LOCHABER.

ALLAN RAMSAY.

FAREWELL to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean,
Where heartsome wi' her I ha'e mony a day been ;
To Lochaber no more, to Lochaber no more,

We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more!
These tears that I shed, they're a' for my dear,
And no for the dangers attending on weir;
Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more!

Though hurricanes rise, though rise every wind,
No tempest can equal the storm in my mind;
Though loudest of thunders on louder waves roar,
That's naething like leavin' my love on the shore.

To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain'd;
But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd;
And beauty and love 's the reward of the brave,
And I maun deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my excuse;
Since honour commands me, how can I refuse?
Without it, I ne'er can have merit for thee;
And losing thy favour, I'd better not be.
I gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame;
And if I should chance to come glorious hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,

And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

The exquisite melody to which this song is sung has rendered it a general favourite. Its effect upon the mind of Highlanders in a foreign land, or in emigration, is sometimes painful, and has been known to melt the roughest and rudest of men to tears. The song itself, as a literary composition, is of little or no merit. It first appeared in the "Tea-Table Miscellany," 1724. The air was originally entitled " King James's march to Ireland."

O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,

They were twa bonnie lasses;

They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,

And theekit it ower wi' rashes.

Bessie Bell I lo'ed yestreen,
And thocht I ne'er could alter;
But Mary Gray's twa pawky een
Gar'd a' my fancy falter.

Bessie's hair's like a lint-tap,

She smiles like a May mornin',
When Phoebus starts from Thetis' lap,
The hills with rays adornin'.
White is her neck, saft is her hand,
Her waist and feet fu' genty;
With ilka grace she can command,—
Her lips, oh, now, they're denty!

Mary's locks are like the craw,
Her een like diamonds' glances;
She's aye sae clean, redd up, and braw,
She kills whene'er she dances.
Blythe as a kid, wi' wit at will,
She blooming, tight, and tall is,
And guides her airs sae gracefu' still,—
O Jove! she's like thy Pallas.

Young Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,
Ye unco sair oppress us;
Our fancies jee between ye twa,
Ye are sic bonnie lasses.

Wae's me! for baith I canna get,

To ane by law we're stentit;

Then I'll draw cuts, and tak my fate,
And be wi' ane contentit.

The heroines of this well-known ballad were the daughters of two Perthshire gentlemen. Bessy Bell was the daughter of the Laird of Kinnaird, and Mary Grey of the Laird of Lynedoch. A romantic attachment subsisted between them, and they retired together to a secluded spot called the "Burn Braes," in the neighbourhood of Lynedoch, to avoid the plague that then raged in Perth, Dundee, and other towns. They caught the infection, however, and both died. Tradition asserts that a young gentleman, in love with one of them, visited them in their solitude, and that it was from him they caught the contagion. The late gallant Lord Lynedoch, on whose estate the heroines lie buried, erected a kind of bower over their graves. The fol

lowing is the original ballad on which Allan Ramsay's is founded. The melody to which it is sung was introduced by Gay into the "Beggars' Opera" to the words commencing:

"A curse attends that woman's love

Who always would be pleasing."

"O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,

They were twa bonnie lasses;
They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it ower wi' rashes.
They theekit it ower wi' rashes green,
They theekit it ower wi' heather;
But the pest came frae the burrow town,
And slew them baith thegither.

They thought to lie in Methven kirkyard
Amang their noble kin;

But they maun lie in Stronach Haugh
To beek forenent the sun.

And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,

They were twa bonnie lasses;
They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it ower wi' rashes."

THE LAST TIME I CAM' O'ER THE MUIR.

ALLAN RAMSAY.

THE last time I cam' ower the muir,

I left my love behind me:

Ye powers, what pains do I endure
When soft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd

The beaming day ensuing,

I met betimes my lovely maid
In fit retreats for wooing.

We stray'd beside yon wand'ring stream,
And talk'd with hearts o'erflowing,

Until the sun's last setting beam

Was in the ocean glowing.

I pitied all beneath the skies,

Even kings, when she was nigh me;

In raptures I beheld her eyes,

Which could but ill deny me.

Should I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore,
Where dangers may surround me ;
Yet hopes again to see my love,
To feast on glowing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move,
In prospect of such blisses.

In all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;

Since she excels in ev'ry grace,

In her my love shall centre.
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.

The neist time I gang ower the muir,
She shall a lover find me ;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Though I left her behind me ;
Then Hymen's sacred bonds shall chain
My heart to her fair bosom ;

There, while my being does remain,

My love more fresh shall blossom.

"The first lines of this song, and several others, in it are beautiful; but in my opinion-pardon me, revered shade of Ramsay!-the song is unworthy of the divine air."-BURNS.

PEGGIE AND PATIE.

ALLAN RAMSAY.

PEGGY.

WHEN first my dear laddie gae'd to the green hill,
And I at ewe-milking first sey'd my young skill,
To bear the milk-bowie nae pain was to me,
When I at the bughting forgather'd with thee.