When I sleep I dream,
When I wauk I'm eerie,
Sleep I can get nane,
For thinkin' o' my dearie.

Lanely nicht comes on,
A' the lave are sleepin';
I think on my true love,
And blear my e'en wi' greetin'.

Feather beds are saft--
Pentit rooms are bonnie;
But ae kiss o' my dear love
Better's far than ony.

O for Friday nicht!--
Friday at the gloamin';
O for Friday nicht--
Friday's lang o' comin'!"

This love-song, which Mr. Chambers gives from recitation, is, thinks
Uncle to himself, all but perfect; Burns, who in almost every instance,
not only adorned, but transformed and purified whatever of the old he
touched, breathing into it his own tenderness and strength, fails here,
as may be seen in reading his version.

"Oh, spring's a pleasant time!
Flowers o' every color--
_The sweet bird builds her nest_,
And I lang for my lover.
Aye wakin', oh!
Wakin' aye and _wearie_;
Sleep I can get nane,
For thinkin' o' my dearie!

"When I sleep I dream,
When I wauk I'm eerie,
Rest I canna get,
For thinkin' o' my dearie.
Aye wakin', oh!
Wakin' aye and weary;
_Come, come, blissful dream_,
Bring me to my dearie.

"_Darksome_ nicht comes doun--
A' the lave are sleepin';
I think on my kind lad,
And blin' my een wi' greetin'.
Aye wakin', oh!
Wakin' aye and wearie;
_Hope is sweet_, but ne'er
Sae sweet as my dearie!"

How weak these italics! No one can doubt which of these is the better.
The old song is perfect in the procession, and in the simple beauty of
its thoughts and words. A ploughman or shepherd--for I hold that it is a
man's song--comes in "wat, wat" after a hard day's work among the
furrows, or on the hill. The _watness_ of wat, wat, is as much wetter
than wet as a Scotch mist is more of a mist than an English one; and he
is not only wat, wat, but "weary," longing for a dry skin and a warm bed
and rest; but no sooner said and felt, than, by the law of contrast, he
thinks on "Mysie" or "Ailie," his Genevieve; and then "all thoughts, all
passions, all delights," begin to stir him, and "fain wad I rise and
rin" (what a swiftness beyond run is "rin"!) Love now makes him a poet;
the true imaginative power enters and takes possession of him. By this
time his clothes are off, and he is snug in bed; not a wink can he
sleep; that "fain" is domineering over him,--and he breaks out into what
is as gen