4 I ran to ilka dear friend's room, As if to find them there, I knew where ilk ane used to sit, And hang o'er mony a chair; Till soft remembrance throw a veil Across these een o' mine, I closed the door, and sobbed aloud, To think on auld langsyne! 5 Some pensy chiels, a new-sprung race, Wad next their welcome pay, Wha shuddered at my Gothic wa's, And wished my groves away. 'Cut, cut,' they cried, 'those aged elms, Lay low yon mournfu' pine.' Na! na! our fathers' names grow there, Memorials o' langsyne. 6 To wean me frae these waefu' thoughts, They took me to the town; But sair on ilka weel-kenned face I missed the youthfu' bloom. At balls they pointed to a nymph Wham a' declared divine; But sure her mother's blushing cheeks Were fairer far langsyne! 7 In vain I sought in music's sound To find that magic art, Which oft in Scotland's ancient lays Has thrilled through a' my heart. The sang had mony an artfu' turn; My ear confessed 'twas fine; But missed the simple melody I listened to langsyne. 8 Ye sons to comrades o' my youth, Forgie an auld man's spleen, Wha' midst your gayest scenes still mourns The days he ance has seen. When time has passed and seasons fled, Your hearts will feel like mine; And aye the sang will maist delight That minds ye o' langsyne! WHAT AILS THIS HEART O' MINE? 1 What ails this heart o' mine? What ails this watery ee? What gars me a' turn pale as death When I tak leave o' thee? When thou art far awa', Thou'lt dearer grow to me; But change o' place and change o' folk May gar thy fancy jee. 2 When I gae out at e'en, Or walk at morning air, Ilk rustling bush will seem to say I used to meet thee there. Then I'll sit down and cry, And live aneath the tree, And when a leaf fa's i' my lap, I'll ca't a word frae thee. 3 I'll hie me to the bower That thou wi' roses tied, And where wi' mony a blushing bud I strove myself to hide. I'll doat on ilka spot Where I ha'e been wi' thee; And ca' to mind some kindly word By ilka burn and tree. JAMES MACPHERSON.