O, Marion's a bonnie lass, And the blythe blinks in her ee; There's gowd in your garters, Marion, At e'en when I come hame. There's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, I've nine milk-ewes, my Marion; And ye'se get a green sey apron, I'm young and stout, my Marion ; And soon as my chin has nae hair on, [First printed in the Tea Table Miscellany. Percy inserted it in his Reliques with the following note, "This Sonnet appears to be ancient : that and its simplicity of sentiment have recommended it to a place here."] I LOVED THEE ONCE. SIR ROBERT AYTON. Born 1570-Died 1638. I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more, Thine be the grief, as is the blame; What reason I should be the same? God send me love my debts to pay, Nothing could have my love o'erthrown When new desires had conquer'd thee, No constancy, to love thee still : Yea, it had been a sin to go And prostitute affection so; Since we are taught no prayers to say To such as must to others pray. Yet do thou glory in thy choice; Thy choice, of his good fortune boast; To see him gain what I have lost : [Sir Robert Ayton was Secretary to Anne the wife of the first English James. There is little known of his Life. Jonson told Drummond that Sir R. Aiton lo'ed him dearly.' He lies buried in Westminster Abbey where a handsome monument is erected to his memory.] I DO CONFESS THOU'RT SMOOTH AND FAIR. SIR ROBERT AYTON. I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, And I might have gone near to love thee; That lips could speak had power to move thee As worthy to be loved by none. I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find The morning rose, that untouch'd stands, Such fate, ere long, will thee betide, And I will sigh, while some will smile, Hath brought thee to be loved by none. ["This song," writes Robert Chambers, "is generally printed with the name of Sir Robert Ayton as author; but it is a suspicious cir. cumstance that, in Watson's Collection (1706-11), where several poems by Sir Robert are printed with his name in a cluster, this is inserted at a different part of the work, without his name." The following is Burns' alteration of the above exquisite stanzas"I do think," says the poet, "that I have improved the simplicity of the sentiments by giving them a Scot's dress," I do confess thou art sae fair, I wad been o'er the lugs in love, Had I na found the slightest prayer That lips could speak, thy heart could move. I do confess thee sweet, but find Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets, Thy favours are the silly wind, That kisses ilka thing it meets. See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew, Amang its native briers sae coy; When pou'd and worn a common toy ! Like ony common weed and vile. "This," says Mr. Cunningham, "is almost the only song which Burns failed to improve."] RATTLIN ROARING WILLIE. O rattlin roarin Willie, O he held to the fair, And buy some other ware; The saut tear blin't his ee; Ye're welcome hame to me. O Willie, come sell your fiddle, The warl' wad think I was mad; For mony a ranting day My fiddle and I hae had. As I cam in by Crochallan, Was sitting at yon boord-en'; And amang gude companie; Ye're welcome hame to me. [This song owes its preservation to Burns, who added the last verse in compliment to a friend of his, Colonel William Dunbar," one of the worthiest fellows in the world." It was first printed in Johnson's Musical Museum, Part II. 1788.] |