man in his boat, have written or composed songs; and even the tramps and vagrants have been known in our days, as well as in those of Allan Ramsay and Robert Burns, to have been the authors of no contemptible emendations and new readings of the old ballads, as well as of original snatches of poetry adapted to the old tunes. The cities of Edinburgh and of Glasgow alone have produced within the last dozen years as many good Scottish songs as would fill three or four such volumes as that we now offer to the public, and the greater portion of which have been collected and published under the title of "Whistle Binkie." A few of the compositions of the late Alexander Rodger and Donald Carrick, the most distinguished contributors to that volume, will be found in our pages,-which, by the kind permission of the publisher, might have included many more, had not the limited space at our command imperatively forced us to exclude the multitude of living writers that would have had as much title to appear as any one whom we might have selected. "For," to use the words of Burns, This song was first printed in the year 1508 by Chapman and Myllar, the "fathers of Scottish typography." 15 O LUSTY May, with Flora queen, Whose balmy drops from Phoebus sheene Prelucent beam before the day; By thee Diana groweth green, Through gladness of this lusty May. Then Aurora that is so bright, To woful hearts she casts great light Birds on their boughs of every sort Through gladness of this lusty May. And lovers all that are in care, In fresh mornings before the day, Her glittering garments are so gay: I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE. MARQUIS OF MONTROSE, born 1612, died May 21, 1650. My dear and only love, I pray That little world of thee Which virtuous souls abhor, And never love thee more. As Alexander I will reign, My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much, Who dares not put it to the touch But I will reign and govern still, I'll never love thee more. And in the empire of thy heart, Or dare to share with me; I'll smiling mock at thy neglect, But if no faithless action stain I'll deck and crown thy head with bays, WERE NA MY HEART LICHT, I WAD DEE. LADY GRIZZEL BAILLIE, born 1665, died 1746. From the "Orpheus Caledonius," 1725. THERE was anes a may, and she loo'd na men; When bonnie young Jamie cam' ower the sea, He had a wee titty that lo’ed na me, She raised such a pother 'twixt him and his mother, The day it was set and the bridal to be; The wife took a dwam and lay down to dee; His kin was for ane of a high degree, They said I had neither cow nor calf, His titty she was baith wylie an' slee, His bonnet stood aye fou round on his brow, And now he gaes daundrin' about the dykes, Were I young for thee, as I hae been, We should ha' been gallopin' down on yon green, And linkin' it on yon lily-white lea; And wow! gin I were but young for thee! |