Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 046.djvu/277

1839.] But I will down yon river rove, amang the fields sae green,
 * And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.

"The primrose I will pu,' the firstling of the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer:
 * And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

"I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phœbus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou'; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue:
 * And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

"The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there; The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air:
 * And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

"The hawthorn I will pu,' wi' its locks o' siller gray, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day; But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak' away:
 * And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

"The woodbine I will pu' when the evening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear; The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear:
 * And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

"I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken bands o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove:
 * And this will be a posie to my ain dear May."

The last, it would appear, of Burns's communications to the Museum, was the song of "Mally's meek, Mally's sweet," which, in some respects homely enough, has yet much to recommend it. The idea in the last stanza might have been better brought out, but it has the fire of genius—

Is not this a vivid expression of the power of beauty over the darkness and the storms of life? Do we not here see at a glance, as in a dream not difficult to be interpreted, a tempestuous sea, and a labouring vessel with despairing mariners; and then, amidst the severing clouds, a vision of those "lucida sidera," those Ledaean twins,

It would extend this article beyond the length of a midsummer's day, if we were to review all the songs of Burns which are entitled to admiration. Why should we set down the imperishable verses of "Auld Langsyne," which every reader worth addressing can repeat, as if they were printed before his eyes? or why add a "perfume to the violet," by bestowing on them a vague and unmeaning praise, or attempting to point out beauties that are obvious to all? Why should we notice many other songs to which the observations we have already made may with suitable changes be easily transferred?—some of them being almost unexceptionably beautiful, but the most part chequered with a mixture of error and defect amidst their pervading excellences.

We have always greatly admired the comic songs of Burns, but it is not our intention to enter here on a detailed examination of them. Such compositions do not equally challenge or call for criticism as more serious attempts, and it would not be so easy to find room for observation upon them. Burns's genius was as well adapted for the ludicrous as for the pathetic, and his command of appropriate vernacular language for ludicrous subjects was peculiarly great. Instead of offering the commonplace