"Talk not to me of savages, From Afric's burning sun; Nosavage e'ercould rend my heart, As Jessie, thou hast done: ButJessie's lovely hand in mine, A mutual faith to plight, Not even to view the heavenly choir, Would be so blest a sight."

"But rarely seen since Nature's birth, The natives of the sky; Yet still one seraph's left on earth, For Jessie did not die."

"Say, sages, what's the charm on earth Can turn Death's dart aside! It is not purity and worth, Else Jessie had not died."

Fill me with the rosy wine, Call a toast, a toast divine: Giveth me Poet's darling flame, Lovely Jessie be her name; Then thou mayest freely boast, Thou hast given a peerless toast.

Chorus-O lay thy loof in mine, lass, In mine, lass, in mine, lass; And swear on thy white hand, lass, That thou wilt be my ain. A slave to Love's unbounded sway, He afthas wrought me meiklewae; But now he is my deadly fae, Unless thou be my ain. O lay thy loof, &c. There's

O wert thou in the cauldblast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee; Or did Misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bieldshould be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'. Or were I in the wildest waste,