not to be translated. The epithet "bickering" implies that sharp, explosive, fluttering violence, or impetuosity, which belongs to any sudden and rapid progressive movement of short continuance, and it expresses the noise as well as the speed. It is no doubt the same word with the old English "bickering," but used in a more extensive sense: a "bicker" means commonly a short irregular fight, or skirmish: but Milton has "bickering flame," where, although the commentators interpret the epithet as equivalent to quivering, we apprehend it includes the idea of crackling also. Darwin has borrowed the phrase, as may be seen in one of our extracts given above. Nor is it possible to give the effect of the diminutives, in which the Scottish language is almost as rich as the Italian. While the English, for example, has only its manikin, the Scotch has its mannie, mannikie, bit mannie, bit mannikie, wee bit mannie, wee bit mannikie, little wee bit mannie, little wee bit mannikie; and so with wife, wifie, wifikie, and many other terms. Almost every substantive noun has at least one diminutive form, made by the affix ie, as mousie, housie. We ought to notice also, that the established or customary spelling in these and other similar instances does not correctly represent the pronunciation:-the vowel sound is the soft one usually indicated by oo; as if the words were written moosie, hoosie, coorin, &c. It is an advantage that the Scottish dialect possesses, somewhat akin to that possessed by the Greek in the time of Homer, that, from having been comparatively but little employed in literary composition, and only imperfectly reduced under the dominion of grammar, many of its words have several forms, which are not only convenient for the exigencies of verse, but are used with different effects or shades of meaning. In particular, the English form is always available when wanted; and it is the writer's natural resource when he would rise from the light or familiar style to one of greater elevation or earnestness. Thus, in the above verses, while expressing only half-playful tenderness and commiseration, Burns writes "Now thou 's turned out" (pronounce oot), in his native dialect; but it is in the regular English form, "Still thou art blest," that he gives utterance to the deeper pathos and solemnity of the concluding verse.

The proper companion to this short poem is that addressed To a Mountain Daisy, on turning one down with the Plough, in April, 1786; but in that the execution is not so pure throughout, and the latter part runs somewhat into common

place.

The beginning, however, is in the poet's happiest

manner :

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stour 2
Thy tender stem;

To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie3 gem.

4

Alas! its no thy neebor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet!
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
Wi' spreckled breast,

When upward springing, blythe, to greet
The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble, birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,

Scarce reared above the parent earth
Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield
High sheltering woods and wa's maun9 shield;
But thou beneath the random bield 10

O' clod or stane 11

Adorns the histie 12 stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawy 13 bosom sun-ward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head

In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

11 Stone.

7 Speckled.

12 Dry and rugged.

13 Snowy.

s Peeped, or rather glanced (glanced'st).
10 Shelter.

Such is the fate of simple bard,
On life's rough ocean luckless-starred !
Unskilful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o'er!

Such fate to suffering worth is given,
Who long with wants and woes has striven,
By human pride or cunning driven

To misery's brink,

Till, wrenched of every stay but heaven,
He, ruined, sink !

Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
That fate is thine-no distant date;
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,

Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight

Shall be thy doom!

In a different style, and of another mood, but still, in the strong rush of its comic and satiric eloquence and the hurry of its whimsical fancies, not without occasional touches both of the terrific and the tender, is the glorious Address to the Deil (the Devil):

1 Old.

2 A popular name of the devil, in allusion to his horns.

3 Another, in allusion to his cloots, or hoofs.

4 Who.

When twilight did my Grannie summon
To say her prayers, douce,"1 honest woman,
Aft yont 12 the dyke 13 she's heard ye bummin',14
Wi' eerie 15 drone;

Or, rustlin', through the hoortrees 16 comin',
Wi' heavy groan.

7 Unroofing.

10 With unearthly moan (the oo in noon and croon pronounced like the

French u).

13 Stone wall of a field.

12 Often beyond.

15 Ghastly, unearthly.

18 Slanting.

11 Quiet, sedate.

14 Humming.
17 One.

16 Whortleberry bushes.

20 Got.
24 Long sighing sound.

19

Myself.

23 Bush of rushes.

7 Dug up, disinterred.

10 And fondly cherished,

milk as the bull.

20

Aff straught to hell!

2 Away you fluttered in water. 5 Churchyards.

8 Country.

3 Ragwort.

6

Over.

9 Churn.

twelve-pint Hawkie (the cow) is gone as barren of

11 Thaws.

14 Mischievous water spirits. 17 Blazing,

12 Hoard, heap.

15 Ford.

18 Never more.
20 Off straight.

13 Board.

16 Will-o'-the-Wisps.

19 Grip, clasp of the hand.