In love and freedom they rejoice, Wi' care nor thrall opprest.

Now blooms the lily by the bank,

The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae;
The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove their sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.

I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
Where happy I hae been;
Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
As blythe lay down at e'en:
And I'm the sovereign of Scotland,
And monie a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
And never ending care.

Ev'n 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 crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom!

TO A MOUSE,

ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH IN NOVEMBER.

WEE, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

Wi' bickering brattle!1

I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle!

"'m truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle

At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie,thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave

'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, And never miss't.

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the winds are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell' an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter pass'd
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,

COMIN' THROUGH THE RYE. TUNE-"Gin a Body meet a Body." GIN a body meet a body,

Comin' thro' the rye;

Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?

Ev'ry lassie has her laddie,

Nane they say, hae I!

Yet a' the lads they smile at me When comin' thro' the rye. Amang the train there is a swain

I dearly lo'e mysel';

But whaur his hame, or what his name,
I dinna care to tell.

Gin a body meet a body,
Comin' frae the town;
Gin a body greet a body,
Need a body frown?
Ev'ry lassie has her laddie,

Nane, they say, hae I!
Yet a' the lads they smile at me,
When comin' thro' the rye.
Amang the train there is a swain

I dearly lo'e mysel';

But whaur his hame, or what his name, I dinna care to tell.

MY AIN KIND DEARIE, OI WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star

Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo; And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and wearie, O! Down by the burn, where scented birks Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie, O!

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,
I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O,
If thro' that glen gaed to thee,

My ain kind dearie, O!

Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae wearie, O,
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O!

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,

To rouse the mountain deer, my jo, At noon the fisher seeks the glen,

Along the burn to steer, my jo;
Gie me the hour o' gloamin' gray,
It maks my heart sae cheery, O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O!