Thou need na start awa sae hasty, I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, I'm truly sorry man's dominion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, Robert Burns. JOHN ANDERSON. JOHN ANDERSON my jo, John, John Anderson, my jo, John, Robert Burns. HERE'S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT'S AWA. HERE'S health to them that's awa, And wha winna wish guid ck to our causa, It's guid to be merry and wise, Robert Burns. MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; The hills of the Highlands forever I love. Robert Burns. LAMENT OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. NOW NATURE hangs her mantle green And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, But nought can_glad the wearied wight Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn, The merle, in his noontide bower, Now blooms the lily by the bank, The meanest hind in fair Scotland Robert Burns. TO MARY. WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Oh, sweet grow the lime and the orange, But a' the charms o' the Indies I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary, Oh, plight me your faith, my Mary, We hae plighted our troth, my Mary, And curst be the cause that shall part us i— Robert Burns. A RED, RED ROSE. OH, my luve's like a red, red rose, As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve ! Robert Burns. OF A THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW. OF a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly lo'e the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo❜e best; There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But, day and night, my fancy's flight I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o' my Jean. Robert Burns. A ROSE-BUD. A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, Within the bush, her covert nest The dew sat chilly on her breast Sae early in the morning. Robert Burns. DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. To make a happy fireside clime, That's the true pathos, and sublime Robert Burns. LOVE IN HUMBLE LIFE. O HAPPY love! where love like this is found! And sage experience bids me this declare- "Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale! Robert Burns. TAM O' SHANTER. WHEN chapman billies leave the street, |