the wyllowe-tree.

Harke! the ravenne flappes hys wynge,
In the briered dell belowe;
Harke! the dethe-owle loude dothe synge,
To the nygthe-mares as theie goe.
Mie love ys dedde,
Gone to hys deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

See! the whyte moone sheenes onne hie;
Whyterre ys mie true loves shroude;
Whyterre yanne the mornynge skie,
Whyterre yanne the evenynge cloude.
Mie love ys dedde,
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

Heere, upon mie true loves grave,
Schalle the baren fleurs be layde,
Ne one hallie seyncte to save
Al the celness of a mayde.
Mie love ys dedde,
Gonne to his deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

Wythe mie hondes I'll dent the brieres
Rounde hys hallie corse to gre,
Ouphante fairies, lyghte your fyres,
Heere mie boddie stille schalle bee.
Mie love ys dedde,
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne,
Drayne my hartys blodde awaie;
Lyfe and all yttes goode I scorne,
Daunce bie nete, or feaste by daie.
Mie love ys dedde,
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

Water wytches, crownede whthe reytes,
Bere mee to yer leathalle tyde.
I die; I comme; mie true love waytes.
Thos the damselle spake, and dyed."

To proceed to the more immediate subject of the present Lecture, the
character and writings of Burns.--Shakspeare says of some one, that "he
was like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring." Burns, the poet,
was not such a man. He had a strong mind, and a strong body, the fellow
to it. He had a real heart of flesh and blood beating in his bosom--
you can almost hear it throb. Some one said, that if you had shaken
hands with him, his hand would have burnt yours. The Gods, indeed, "made
him poetical"; but nature had a hand in him first. His heart was in the
right place. He did not "create a soul under the ribs of death," by
tinkling siren sounds, or by piling up centos of poetic diction; but for
the artificial flowers of poetry, he plucked the mountain-daisy under
his feet; and a field-mouse, hurrying from its ruined dwelling, could
inspire him with the sentiments of terror and pity. He held th