Since thoughts of you do banish grief,
When I'm from you removed;
And if in them I find relief,
When with sad cares I'm moved,
How doth your presence me affect
With ecstasies divine,
Especially when I reflect
On old long syne.
Since thou hast robb'd me of my heart,
By those resistless powers
Which Madam Nature doth impart
To those fair eyes of yours,
With honour it doth not consist
To hold a slave in pyne;
Pray let your rigour, then, desist,
For old long syne.
'Tis not my freedom I do crave,
By deprecating pains;
Sure, liberty he would not have
Who glories in his chains:
But this I wish—the gods would move
That noble soul of thine
To pity, if thou canst not love,
For old long syne.
Auld Lang Syne.
[Written by Ramsay, and published in the first vol. of his Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.]
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Though they return with scars?
These are the noble hero's lot,
Obtain'd in glorious wars:
Welcome, my Varo, to my breast,
Thy arms about me twine,
And make me once again as blest,
As I was lang syne.
Methinks around us on each bough,
A thousand Cupids play,
Whilst through the groves I walk with you,
Each object makes me gay.
Since your return the sun and moon
With brighter beams do shine,
Streams murmur soft notes while they run,
As they did lang syne.
Despise the court and din of state;
Let that to their share fall,
Who can esteem such slavery great,
While bounded like a ball:
But sunk in love, upon my arms
Let your brave head recline,
We'll please ourselves with mutual charms,
As we did lang syne.
O'er moor and dale, with your gay friend,
You may pursue the chace,
And, after a blythe bottle, end
All cares in my embrace:
And in a vacant rainy day
You shall be wholly mine;
We'll make the hours run smooth away,
And laugh at lang syne.
The hero, pleased with the sweet air,
And signs of generous love,
Which had been utter'd by the fair,
Bow'd to the powers above:
Next day, with consent and glad haste,
They approach'd the sacred shrine;
Where the good priest the couple blest.
And put them out of pine.
Auld Lang Syne.
[The following is the version of "Auld Lang Syne" which Burns communicated to Johnson's Museum, and which has since become so universal a favourite. In the Museum it is marked with a Z, signifying that it is an old song with additions and alterations. In his correspondence both with Mrs. Dunlop and Mr. Thomson, Burns says that he took the song down from the singing of an old man—and we are inclined to believe this partially. The first, fourth, and fifth verses seem fragments of an old ditty: the second and third verses betray the tenderness and sentiment of the poet himself. Had Burns been the sole author of the song, we cannot see how he would have spoken with such raptures regarding it. "Light be the turf," he says, "on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who composed this glorious fragment!"—The air to which "Auld Lang Syne" is now generally sung is not the original one, which Burns pronounced to be mediocre, but
