a glorious recipe; the very one that
for his own use was invented by the Divinity of Healing and Poesy
when erst he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a
regimen of admiring a fine woman; and in proportion to the
adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my
verses. The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and
the witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!"

Burns is here, of course, on his rhetorical high horse, and the songs
to Chloris hardly bear him out; but there is much in the passage to
enlighten us as to his composing processes. In his younger days his
hot blood welcomed every occasion of emotional experience; toward the
end, he sought such occasions for the sake of the patriotic task that
lightened with its idealism the gathering gloom of his breakdown. But
throughout, and this is the important point to note in relating his
poetry to his life, his one mode of complimentary address to a woman
was in terms of gallantry.

The following group of love songs illustrate the various phases of his
temperament which we have been discussing. The first two are to Mary
Campbell, and exhibit Burns in his most reverential attitude toward
women:

HIGHLAND MARY

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie! [muddy]
There Simmer first unfauld her robes, [may S. f. unfold]
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, [birch]
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But oh! fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, [cold]
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mould'ring no