eaven sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
My bonnie dearie.

V.

Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die--but canna part--
My bonnie dearie!
Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them whare the heather growes;
Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
My bonnie dearie!

* * * * *

CCXXVI.

SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME BEST OF A'.

Tune--"_Onagh's Waterfall._"

[The lady of the flaxen ringlets has already been noticed: she is
described in this song with the accuracy of a painter, and more than
the usual elegance of one: it is needless to add her name, or to say
how fine her form and how resistless her smiles.]

I.

Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arching
Twa laughin' een o' bonnie blue.
Her smiling sae wyling,
Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto these rosy lips to grow:
Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
When first her bonnie face I saw;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

II.

Like harmony her motion;
Her pretty ankle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,
Wad mak a saint forget the sky.
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her faultless form and gracefu' air;
Ilk feature--auld Nature
Declar'd that she could do nae mair:
Hers are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering beauty's sovereign law;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

III.

Let others love the city,
And gaudy show at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,
The dewy eve, and rising moon;
Fair beaming, and streaming,
Her silver light the boughs amang;
While falling, recalling,
The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

* * * * *

CCXXVII.

SAW YE MY PHELY.

[QUASI DICAT PHILLIS.]

Tune--"_When she came ben she bobbit._"

[The despairing swain in this song was Stephen Clarke, musician, and
the young lady whom he persuaded Burns to accuse of inconstancy and
coldness was Phillis M'Murdo.]

I.

O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
O s