II.

To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

III.

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.

IV.

The deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face,
And say, "I canna wrang thee."

V.

The powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha' na steer thee:
Thou'rt like themselves so lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

VI.

Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie;
That we may brag, we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonnie.

* * * * *

CLXXXII.

HIGHLAND MARY.

Tune--"_Katherine Ogie._"

[Mary Campbell, of whose worth and beauty Burns has sung with such
deep feeling, was the daughter of a mariner, who lived in Greenock.
She became acquainted with the poet while on service at the castle of
Montgomery, and their strolls in the woods and their roaming trysts
only served to deepen and settle their affections. Their love had much
of the solemn as well as of the romantic: on the day of their
separation they plighted their mutual faith by the exchange of Bibles:
they stood with a running-stream between them, and lifting up water in
their hands vowed love while woods grew and waters ran. The Bible
which the poet gave was elegantly bound: 'Ye shall not swear by my
name falsely,' was written in the bold Mauchline hand of Burns, and
underneath was his name, and his mark as a freemason. They parted to
meet no more: Mary Campbell was carried off suddenly by a burning
fever, and the first intimation which the poet had of her fate, was
when, it is said, he visited her friends to meet her on her return
from Cowal, whither she had gone to make arrangements for her
marriage. The Bible is in the keeping of her relations: we have seen a
lock of her hair; it was very long and very bright, and of a hue
deeper than the flaxen. The song was written for Thomson's work.]

I.

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last farewell
O' my sweet High