* * *

XXIV.

ELIZA.

Tune--"_Gilderoy._"

[My late excellent friend, John Galt, informed me that the Eliza of
this song was his relative, and that her name was Elizabeth Barbour.]

I.

From thee, Eliza, I must go,
And from my native shore;
The cruel Fates between us throw
A boundless ocean's roar:
But boundless oceans roaring wide
Between my love and me,
They never, never can divide
My heart and soul from thee!

II.

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,
The maid that I adore!
A boding voice is in mine ear,
We part to meet no more!
The latest throb that leaves my heart,
While death stands victor by,
That throb, Eliza, is thy part,
And thine that latest sigh!

* * * * *

XXV.

THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.

Tune--"_Shawnboy."_

["This song, wrote by Mr. Burns, was sung by him in the
Kilmarnock-Kilwinning Lodge, in 1786, and given by him to Mr. Parker,
who was Master of the Lodge." These interesting words are on the
original, in the poet's handwriting, in the possession of Mr. Gabriel
Neil, of Glasgow.]

I.

Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.
I've little to say, but only to pray,
As praying's the ton of your fashion;
A prayer from the muse you well may excuse,
'Tis seldom her favourite passion.

II.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,
Who marked each element's border;
Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,
Whose sovereign statute is order;
Within this dear mansion, may wayward contention
Or withered envy ne'er enter;
May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And brotherly love be the centre.

* * * * *

XXVI.

MENIE.

Tune.--"_Johnny's grey breeks._"

[Of the lady who inspired this song no one has given any account: It
first appeared in the second edition of the poet's works, and as the
chorus was written by an Edinburgh gentleman, it has been surmised
that the song was a matter of friendship rather than of the heart.]

I.

Again rejoicing nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
And maun