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THE COT OF CONTENT,
Can a crown give content,
Ah, say, ah, say, did they ever?
Ah, no, ah, no, no, never !
When we put on a ring,
It binds us, it binds us, for ever;
Ah, no, ah, no, no never !
* From the Opera of the “ Mald of the Mill.”.
FEE HIM, FATHER, FEE HIM.
Johnnie commin, quo' she,
Saw ye Johnnie commin;
And his doggie rinnin', quo' she,
*" This song, for genuine humour in the verses, and lively originality in the air, is unparalelled. I take it to be very old.” It differs a little from that inserted in Cromek's select Scottish Songs by Burns. In the second stanza, that of Cromek wants two ủines, Fee him, &c. which is immaterial, but in the last stanza, the difference is greater. That which Cromek has printed, would no doubt be current at the time Burns lived, but from the coarseness of the ending it is higbly improbable.
Fee him, father, fee him, quo' she,
Fee him, father, fee him;
Fee him, father, fee him ;
And a weel doing, quo' she;
Gạes wi' me when I see him, quo' she,
What will I do wi' him? quo' he,
What will I do wi' him? He's ne'er a sark upon his back,
And I hae nane to gi'e him. I hae twa sarks into my kist,
And ane o' them I'll gi'e him;
Dinna stand wi'' him, quo' she,
For weel do I lo'e him, quo' she,
Weel do I lo'e him;
Weel do I lo'e him.
Fee him, father, fee him;
And crack wi' me at e'en, quo' she,
THERE LIVED A MAN.
Once in the flight of ages past,
There liv'd a man : mand who was he? Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembl'd thee.
Unknown the region of his birth,
The land in which he died unknown: His name has perish'd from the earth,
This truth survives alone :-
That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate triumph'd in his breast; His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!
-Oblivion hides the rest.
The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirit's rise and fall, We know that these were felt by him, For these are felt by all.
He suffer'd but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoy'd, but his delights are fled ; Had friends his friends are now no more;
And foes—his foes are dead.
He lov’d; but whom he lov'd, the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb: O she was fair !—but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.
He saw-whatever thou hast seen;
Encounter'd all that troubles thee : He was-whatever thou hast been;
He is what thou shalt be.
The rolling seasons, day and night,
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.
The clouds and sunbeams o'er his eye,
That once their shades and glory threw, Have left, in yonder silent sky,
No vestige where they flew.
The annals of the human race,
Their ruins since the world began, Of him afford no other trace,
Than this-THERE LIV'D A MAX.