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 6 
 

^ 
 
 FAME 
 
 SANGS 
 
 BY 
 41. Mr LEAN CALDER. 
 
 — 
 
 'It's hame, an' its hiime, hame fain wad I ^e," 
 •' An' H's liarae. harae. hame, tae my ain counirie/' 
 
 Allan Cunningham 
 
 — o- 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 KING & CO., 50 BOOKSELLERS EOW, 
 STEANJ. 
 
 1887. 
 

 
 , V ■] \: 
 
 ^ o Co r^ 
 
^«ip^ua*^«»'M'lli< 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 August, 1887. 
 
 The pieces contained in this small volume 
 mostly written during a long residence 
 the United States and Canada, and have 
 Iready appeared in newspapers and peri- 
 
 were 
 
 in 
 
 a 
 
 odicals there. . 
 
 They have been collected and published 
 at the request of many friends in the Do- 
 minion and the neighbouring Republic. 
 
 The themes being homely, they are treated 
 in a homely way ; still they may serve to 
 echo the sentiments of Scotchmen who have 
 wandered far ''owerche sea," and who yet 
 retain a strong affection for everything per™ 
 taining to their native country. 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 ' >^ 
 
1 
 
 I 
 
 i' 
 
 % 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface 
 
 Contents 
 
 When the bairnies are frae hame 
 
 Polart Burn 
 
 A royal mouse . 
 
 Lizzv Broon 
 
 The "thistle 
 
 My faither's tiddle . 
 
 Lost . 
 
 When Nellie sings to me 
 
 Doon at the heel 
 
 The royal marriage . 
 
 Hame sick 
 
 Halloween memories 
 
 St. Andrew's Day 
 
 Lover's Lane 
 
 Come oot frae 'mang the neeps 
 
 The hawthorn tree . 
 
 The Rose o' Whiteside 
 
 Oh ! come wi' me 
 
 Dreaming of mother 
 
 Ada Lee 
 
 1 love to dream of home . 
 
 The little white cot in the clearing 
 
 Draw in yere stool an' sit doon 
 
 The girl who lives over the way 
 
 My hame across the sea . 
 
 Faither's ain bairn . 
 
 Indian summer 
 
 The auld schule hoose on the green 
 
 Wait and Hope 
 
 3 
 5 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 17 
 
 19 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 25 
 
 27 
 
 30 
 
 34 
 
 37 
 
 40 
 
 42 
 
 45 
 
 46 
 
 48 
 
 49 
 
 60 
 
 51 
 
 52 
 
 53 
 
 65 
 
 56 
 
 57 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 63 
 
 I 
 
.1 
 
 Constant atiil 
 Side by Hide 
 Little Blue-bell 
 The auld thackit hoose » 
 When the days are creepin' n\ , 
 Lounsdale Haughs 
 Edinburgh's welcome to Priiict; Al- 
 bert Victor 
 Mither's bonny lass. 
 Kiss the bairns for me , 
 My heart warms tae the tartan 
 How shall we honour him ^ 
 *' Wher« last we met" 
 Won . . • • 
 
 Ither folk's bairns „ 
 The land of the maple for me 
 Under the orchard trees 
 Heaven is where our Father is 
 Leezie Trotter 
 Johnny's Grave 
 
 The love o' my schule-boy days 
 The bairnie tak's after his faither , 
 
 An auld settler 
 
 On the death of David Kennedy, 
 the Scottish vocalist . 
 
 My faither's fireside 
 
 Jeanie Ray 
 
 The sunset hour 
 
 Katie o' the Mill . 
 
 Welland Stream 
 
 Ellen o' the Ha' 
 
 The Flower o' the Dye , 
 
 Langton Water 
 
 The waning year 
 
 Nae mair . 
 
 64 
 
 6e5 
 
 67 
 68 
 70 
 71 
 
 7:^ 
 
 74 
 
 75 
 
 7(> 
 
 78 
 
 79 
 
 8(» 
 
 81 
 
 8IJ 
 
 84 
 
 86 
 
 87 
 
 88 
 
 89 
 
 90 
 
 92 
 
 94 
 96 
 99 
 101 
 102 
 103 
 105 
 106 
 108 
 111 
 114 
 
 /t 
 
 * 
 
 i' 
 
.,i 
 
 /I 
 
 i 
 
 Undtjif the snow 
 
 Penny's Brae 
 
 Shouther tae shouther 
 
 All for her 
 
 Meet me in the bower 
 
 The Maid o' Cothill 
 
 When the summer buds unfold 
 
 Gavinton Green 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinsia weary , 
 
 '* Eastern's E'en" 
 
 First Love. 
 
 Robbie Burns . 
 
 My horn-spune and luggie 
 
 Over the creek . 
 
 316 
 [17 
 119 
 121 
 
 124 
 125 
 126 
 
 127 
 129 
 130 
 
 133 
 134 
 137 
 139 
 
I 
 
HAME SANGS. 
 
 WHEN THE 
 
 BAIRNIES ARE FRAE 
 HAME. 
 
 The house is donf an' clrearie, 
 
 When the bairnies are frae hame, 
 An' ilka 'oor I weary, 
 
 AVhen the bairnies are frae hame ; 
 I miss their merry lauchin' 
 
 Their friskin' and their dafhn', 
 Their shouts an' sangs sae cheery, 
 
 AVhen the bairnies are frae hame. 
 
 When John comes hame at e'enin', 
 
 When the bairnies are frae hame, 
 Tho' ne'er a word compleenin' 
 
 Wlien the bairnies are frae hame ; 
 The' he seeks tae hide his feelin', 
 
 His thochts there's nae concealin', 
 For his looks confess his meanin' 
 
 When the bairnies are frae hame. 
 
 Noo, John, just write tae granny, 
 
 To bring the bairnies hame. 
 For withoot they're here we canna 
 
 Feel the hoose tae be the same. 
 An' ilka day she'll see them, 
 
 For when she comes here wi' them. 
 W e'll just keep her for we mauna, 
 
 Let the bairnies qan" frae hame. 
 
10 
 
 An' sao anco niair taeL^ithor, 
 
 Wlit'U the bairnics arc at hanvo, 
 Fu' blytho will ha tlioir iiiither, 
 
 When the bainiics ;iro at hanio. 
 We'll just keeptlunu aye l)L'rti(Ie us, 
 
 Aii''wliat joy or grief betide lis, 
 We mau.i sluire \vi' ane uiiither, 
 
 When the bairnies are at haine. 
 
 — - 
 
 POLAllT liUllN. 
 
 The frost h:is nipt the heather bloom, 
 
 The brackens hhi'4 their dowaie leaves — 
 The hips are red ni)on the brier, 
 
 An' paitrieks whirr anian-^ the sheaves : 
 Kae niiiir the bees roam o'er the niuir, 
 
 Or, laden wi' their sweets, return, 
 As T, tae snilt'thc canler air, 
 
 Stray up the glen by Polartburn. 
 
 Here, niony a happy day we spent. 
 
 When we were laddies at the sehnle ; 
 We sought the heather-Unties' nest, 
 
 ()r gump'd for niennents in the pool : 
 We wTst nae hoo the time sped (m. 
 
 Until we heard the cowboy's Injrn, 
 Yet laitli tae hsa' we linger'd on, 
 
 'Till gloaniin' fell o'er Tolartburn. 
 
 We've wander'd 'n\ang the heather knowes, 
 When frae oor feet the mnir-cock whirr'd 
 
 Or wander'd by the hnver hangh 
 
 Where first the cuckoo's note was heard : 
 
11 
 
 k 
 
 83 1113 liainew.ird wo ^v(»^llcl trend its l)aiil<ft 
 Tilt! watch themoss-j^nown luill-wlieclUini, 
 
 Or note tlio ioaniiii' uiill-raco rush 
 Tac blend its Hood wi' I'olart l)urn. 
 
 There, ^vi' tht; love cior boyhood l<iiew, 
 
 We wiinder'd— proiligal o' time-- 
 Wlieii eyes were brighter, li]»s inair sweet, 
 
 Tliaii ever met wi' in oor prime ; 
 Noo sad the memory that comes back, — 
 
 Its brightness never cvin return, — 
 An' ])haiitom hopes th)at 'mid the Jiaze, 
 
 That e'ening brings o'er Pohirt burn. 
 
 The schnleboy friendships then begun, 
 
 Hae still grown closer year by year, 
 Tho' a' oor mates are scatter'd wide, 
 
 111 cauld nor'-land, or southern sphere : 
 But scarce a simmer time ccmies roun , 
 
 r)Ut ane or ither maun return, 
 Tae see ance niair their native hame, 
 
 Am boyhood's haurds by Tolart burn. 
 
 An' noo, annd the city's stir, 
 
 The busy mart, aii' crowded street. 
 Aft' will my fancy wander free, 
 
 Ilk shady nook and calm retreat ; 
 Or as beside my fire I sit, 
 
 Inclined o'er bygane joys tae mourn, 
 The sunny glints come back again, 
 
 Whene'er I think o' Polart burn. 
 
12 
 A ROYAL MOUSE. 
 
 Wee boastie, wham our Scottish bard, 
 L<.ok'd on wi' tcnaorest re-ard ;^ 
 Tho' nobly born, an' L^ently rear (U 
 
 Letnocht alarm ye, 
 There's nae occasion tae be fear'd, 
 
 I wadna harm ye. 
 
 Whatever made tht3 scd^^er loon, 
 Entrap ye frae the royal toon ; 
 Frae 'neath the shadow o' the croon, 
 
 An castle ha', ^ 
 
 Tae live ilk day the same dull icon , 
 
 ()' here awa. 
 
 I fear 'twill bo an unco change,— 
 
 Tho' here, ye're free tae romp an rani^^e*, 
 
 Yet a-thinir will be dull an' strange 
 
 For some wee while, 
 Tho' here ye needna boo nor crnige, 
 
 Tae lordly style. 
 
 ]]ut warsto' a,' ye'll miss yere meat , 
 The little tit-bits choice an' sweet, 
 At royal feasts— some extia treat 
 
 Frae maid or lackey, 
 While here, there's little ye can eat, 
 
 But books or baccy. 
 
 But still there's comfort even here, 
 Altho' the larder's scant o' cheer ; 
 Nae cakes, nor kebbuck, meal nor beer, 
 
 Tae nil yere maw, 
 Y'^^ murderin' cats ye needna fear. 
 
 In Bachelor's Ha'. 
 
 
13 
 
 i 
 
 If ye can iiml a corner snug, 
 
 Safe frae tlie fear o' cat or dug ; 
 
 In drawers, or cupboard, chair or rug, — 
 
 In plaid or (piilt, 
 Then tak' yere ease, nor fash yer lug 
 
 Ye're welcome til't. 
 
 Hut mind ye, here yell lind nae state, 
 Nae booin' tae the rich an' great : 
 Nae fetes nor feastin', puide nor plate, 
 
 An' grand display, 
 Wi' sodgers guardin' ilka gate, 
 
 Baith nicht an' day. 
 
 Ye maun just tak' thinj;s as they are, 
 Nor gi-uml)le at yere scanty fare, 
 An' tho' I hae-na much tae spare, 
 
 Ye're wcicome to't, 
 My crust or crowdie ye can share, 
 
 Or gang withoot. 
 
 An' maybe when we're mair acquent, — 
 Oor mutual feelin's better ken't. 
 Just gambol tae yere heart's content, 
 
 Withoot a swither, 
 Sae lang as I can pay the rent, 
 
 We'll fend thegither. 
 
 Try tae forget what ye hae been, — 
 
 The pomp ye' ve shared ; the wealth ye've 
 
 seen. 
 An' at yere doon-come ne'er complcen, 
 
 Nor care a whistle, 
 Ye're safer here than wi' the Queen, 
 In Windsor Castle. 
 
14 
 
 El ITAPH. 
 
 Hero lies a piiir viiifoitunate beast, 
 Wham royal cats aiice deeiii'd a feast, 
 W'ha cuddled in the sodger's breast, 
 
 Frae pussy's fangs, 
 Tae find as cruel a fate at last, 
 
 Frae hunger's pangs. 
 
 An' maybe, tae. it felt the blow, 
 The fa' frae high estate, tae low ; 
 An' wi' this rankliu' sense o' woe, 
 
 An' cruel smart, 
 It pined for bygane pomp an' show. 
 
 An' broke its heart. 
 
 Sac like the feck o' mortals here. 
 Aye pinin' iov some grander sphere, 
 Forgettin' a' the joya sae near, 
 
 On every side, 
 Or mournin' ower a past career 
 
 O' cursed pride. 
 
 Heaven save me aye frae sic a fate ; 
 1 want na, crave na wealth nor state. 
 Nor for the favor o' the great, — 
 
 An' should 1 do it, 
 Then may misfortune warm my seat, 
 
 Until I rue it. 
 
 ^\ 
 
 On the publication of the above poem in 
 The Chatham Banner, (Ontario), the fol- 
 lowing note vras printed by way of introduc- 
 tion : 
 
 A fellow boarder, who belongs to the Grena- 
 
 ! 
 i 
 
i 
 
 .♦» 
 
 15 
 
 dicrs' Band, was stationed at Windsor 
 Castle for a time, going and returning every 
 day. On his ai-rival one evening lie entered 
 <Mir room for a chat, when, in taking ott' his 
 overeoat, a monse jumped one from his 
 shoidder and disappeared. He said he liad 
 felt a strange feeling about him all the way 
 from Windsor, and then recollected that in 
 one of the rooms of the Castle he had been 
 fondling a cat which had caught a mouse 
 and was playing with it. Pussy having 
 dropped the mouse for a moment, it dis- 
 appeared, and its escape could not be ac- 
 counted for until our friend's arrival home. 
 Home weeks after, in overhauling the room, 
 the poor mouse was found dead. The 
 above lines are founded on this incident. 
 
 — 0- 
 
 LIZZIE BROON. 
 
 When the bloom was on the heather 
 
 An' tlie ch)ver deck'd the lea, 
 An' the dewy beads were hingin' 
 
 On ilka blade and tree 
 When the simmer dawn was smilin', 
 
 An' sheddin' beauty roun,' 
 Then o'er the meadow trippin' 
 
 1 first met Lizzie Br(jon. 
 
 Oh ! lightly fell her footfa' 
 
 Her gowden locks hung doon 
 
 O'er the snaw white neck an' bosom 
 Of my gentle Lizzie Broon. 
 
 
IG 
 
 My heart was yonng an' blythesome, 
 My days like simmer sky, 
 
 Ave brighter for the cloudlets 
 "Tliat gaily tiitted by ; 
 
 An' when the ahadow'd twilight 
 Had drawn her curtain doon, 
 
 Then happy were the moments 
 I spent wi' Lizzie Broon. 
 
 AY® wandei'd in the valley 
 
 licneath the smilin' moon, 
 My arms in fondness twinin 
 
 Kound gentle Lizzie Broon, 
 
 Now far far hae I wander'd 
 
 Frae that still cherish'd scene, 
 An' oft' when there is fancy 
 
 The tears drap frae my e'en, 
 I think I see her strayin' 
 
 An' gazin' sadly roun' 
 On the spot where last I plighted 
 
 My love to Lizzie Broon. 
 
 An' my weary heart is longin' 
 Its vexin' cares tae droon, 
 
 In the lovin', tnistin' glances 
 0' my gentle Lizzie Eroon, 
 
r 
 
 THE THISTLE. 
 
 While memory backward tracks the time, 
 8 in' tirst 1 trode a foreign clime 
 In fancy aft the hills I climb 
 
 Where waves proud Scotia's thistle ; 
 By knowe an' cairn, by mead an' moor, 
 By linn an' loch, by glen an' shore, 
 M V childhood's scenes I aft explore, 
 
 'Mun<' heather, fern, and thistle. 
 
 Hoo aft in boyhood's snnny days, 
 I've skelpit baretit o'er the braes, 
 An' little cared tho" heels an' taes 
 
 Were tinglin' wi' the thistle ; 
 Or when its summer bloom was past, 
 An' downy feathers wayward cast, 
 I've grieved that autumn's thieving blast; 
 
 Should bare tlie bonny thistle. 
 
 I carena for ye're garden flowers, 
 Sae trim an' neat in ladle's bowers— 
 There's ane aboon them a' that towers^ 
 
 The stalwart bearded thistle. 
 Koo noodin' tae the surly breeze ; 
 Is^oo hid beneath the hazel trees ; 
 Kot) sunward baskin' svhere the bees 
 
 Sip honey frae the thistle- 
 
 The flowers may languish in the held. 
 When sinnner days nae showers niay yield 
 It needs nae plantin's shade or bield. 
 
 The hardy, burly thistle. 
 Tho' sharp an' keen the blasts may bhiw, 
 An' ither flowers may fade an' fa', 
 It rears its head aboon them a' 
 
 The sturdj^ bearded thistle. 
 
18 
 
 The sun may glint wi' a' its poAver, 
 An' cluds deny the fresh'ning shower ; 
 TIio' dewdrops at tlie gloamin' hour, 
 
 Beujeni nae blade or thistle. 
 Still nourished by its native earth, 
 Detiantly it branches forth ; 
 Tho' bendin' 'neath the biting n(n'th, 
 
 Still bravely wags the thistle. 
 
 When warlike hordes cam' ower the main, 
 Wi' hopes o' con(j|uest an' o' gain, 
 A city's shimberers wad been slain. 
 
 If t hadna been the thistle. 
 While baretit for surprise prepared, 
 'i'hey steel upon the drowsy guard, 
 A warnin' cry o' pain was heard— 
 
 Their curses on the thistle. 
 
 An' sae the thistle proved to be, 
 The guardian o' oor liberty — 
 Then wha can ever doot that we. 
 
 Are proud o' Scotia's thistle. 
 On mountain heights it rears its head. 
 Proudly an' stern, as if it said — 
 '' For Scotia's cause ye ne'er may dread," 
 ' Sae lang's ye lo'e the thistle." 
 
 (( 
 
 vSae when we see its sturdy form, 
 Aft bent an' toss'd before the storm, 
 Oor hearts tae Scotia's heroes warm, 
 
 Sae like their native thistle. 
 Tho' aft assailed by war's rude blast. 
 When broadside Mars's red bolts were cast, 
 They cam' triumphant forth at last, 
 
 Unconquered like the thistle. 
 
 rn 
 
19 
 
 What tho' oor hardy mountaineer 
 May rongh an' rugged still appear, 
 Tae pamper'd fools wha scoft' an' sneer 
 
 At Scotia's cherish'd thistle. 
 Tho' hearts that beat 'neath silken gown 
 Were saft as fleece or thistledoon, 
 Still warm as breath o' balmy Jnne 
 
 Are hearts that lo'e the thistle. 
 
 Here, parted frae oor sea-Rirt hame — 
 Still doatin' on anld Scotia's name, 
 Oor hearts leap np wi' bonndin' Hame, 
 
 At mention o' the thistle. 
 Her name, her fame tae us are dear, 
 Undimm'd by wealth an' fortune here — 
 We'll teach oor children tae revere 
 
 The land where wags the thistle. 
 
 At times my heart is aften fain, 
 
 Tae cross ance mair the trackless main, 
 
 An' roam my native hills again, 
 
 Where bonny blooms the thistle. 
 If but a glint 'twere mine tae see. 
 Ere death's canld hand had closed my e'e, 
 That my last restin' place might be 
 
 Beneath the waving thistle. 
 
 — o — 
 MY FITHER'S FIDDLE. 
 
 Hoo aft' in happy times gane bye, 
 AVhen but a wean some three feet hii?h, 
 My heart has been elate wi' joy 
 
 As chair astriddle, 
 I'd aft' alane delight tae try 
 
 My iather's fiddle. 
 
:|| 
 
 20 
 
 Or when the weary day was dune, 
 
 \ii' by the ingle gather'd roun , 
 
 I've watched whene'er my dad took doon 
 
 The auhl green bag, 
 J wearied sae tae hear the tune,^ 
 
 " An' rax my leg. 
 
 An' when we heard the tuning notes, 
 We sune were all' oor c(jsy seats 
 IJoside the lire o'blazin' peats ; 
 
 Tip tae the tloor, 
 When tlingin' atf oor heavy boots 
 
 We raised a stoure. 
 
 Nor did we cease the mirth an' glee, 
 Till tired an' wearied sair were we— 
 Wi' hearts as licht as licht could be 
 
 We sought oor rest, 
 An' in sweet slumber closed oor e'e, 
 
 Au' pillow press'd. 
 
 Whenstack-yairds were wi' plenty clad, 
 And farmer- boddie's hearts were glad, 
 I've seen the hinds gang dancin' mad, 
 
 When work was dune, 
 An' ilk blithe lass wad pick her lad, 
 An' dance like fun. 
 
 t 
 
 I^)ut when the harvest kirn took place, 
 Then joy was seen in ilka face, 
 An' lasses wi' a witchin' grace 
 
 Sae neat and braw, 
 Made .Jock and Tam alike confess 
 
 ^' That it beat a'." 
 
 'I 
 
 h : 
 
21 
 
 Au' when thy canty strains began, 
 Tlion kept them a' in mirth an' fun, 
 An' auld an' yonng wi' noise and din 
 
 Made rafters ring ; 
 Till dayiieht tauld the nicht was dune- 
 New cares tae bring. 
 
 I've seen thee tae on anhl year's nicht, 
 I^Iak' lads' and lassies' hearts beat licht, 
 An' youngster's faces beam sae bricbt, 
 
 An' hearts beat high 
 Wi' expectation and delicht, 
 
 An' purest joy. 
 
 Then, when the partner's danced and reeled 
 Then loud and lang the music pealed— 
 While cat-gut held thou wadna yield, 
 
 Tlio' sair the tussel, 
 Exceptin' when the tiddler chield 
 
 Wad weet his w hustle. 
 
 
 Wi' gallant lads an' maidens coy, 
 An' youngsters daft wi' mirth an' joy, 
 I've seen the merry nicht slip bye, 
 
 Till new year's morn. 
 Wi' welcomed in wi' blithe strathspey 
 
 Around the thorn. 
 
 Oh ! aften hae I blessed thy power, 
 Tae yield us thus a happy hour,— 
 Tae sweeten a' that sad and sour 
 
 Oppressed my heart, 
 An' gie auld care a canty clour, — 
 
 His richt desert. 
 
22 
 
 Still, when 1 hear thy cauty soniul. 
 I'm tae my feet wi' lichtuume bouiK], 
 Or when the merry sani; gan^^a rouiKl 
 
 Wi' heartaoine L'lee, 
 N;u' mair wi' 1,'rief my heart ilvvi stf>iim( 
 
 Frae care Fsu fiee. 
 
 Mf 
 
 Ml 
 
 ii 
 
 Or when wi' plaintive accents i)layeil, — 
 When sango' lover lowly laid, 
 Throws o'er my soul a holy shade — 
 
 Wi' heart richt sair, 
 I've sorrowed for the hapless maid, 
 
 Tae fancy fair. 
 
 Lang may thoTi cheer my droopiu' heart 
 Ere I frae this world's sorrows part, 
 Ajx' when I feel the keen, keen dart 
 
 O' grief an' pain, 
 I'll seek, tae sooth the bitter smart, 
 
 Thy canty strain. 
 
 — 0- 
 
 LOST. 
 
 I loved her long, 1 loved her true. 
 
 Yet never told my love ; 
 I hoped one day to call her mine^ 
 
 And tried her heart to prove ; 
 I saw when others sought her smiile. 
 
 How happy she cowld be, 
 And hid the thought within my heart 
 
 That she was lost to me. 
 
 4 
 
 i 
 
38 
 
 J! 
 
 I 1 
 
 I saw her iu tlie prime of youtli 
 
 With every grace adorned,— 
 
 II Imilt f(»ud hopes of future bliss, 
 
 \iid o'er their ruins mourned. 
 Vnd stiil a liiii^eriug star of hope, 
 
 Shoue out in titful gleams, 
 Hut now, ai.is ! she's lost to nie, — 
 
 Dispelled are all my dreams. 
 
 Within my heart there is a void, 
 
 For sontething loved and lost, 
 A dark despair o'erwhelms my hopes^ 
 
 Like vessel '•-empest-tossed, 
 With rudder gone, and compass lost 
 
 Upon a stormy sea, — 
 Such is my life, a drifting wreck, 
 
 Since she is lost to me. 
 
 Soon will another claim her as 
 
 The partner of his life, — 
 Yet still I'll pray for her, that she 
 
 May he a happy wife. 
 Nor shall she e'er by look or word. 
 
 My hopeless love discover, — 
 I'll school my heart to fate's decree, 
 
 ♦Since lost to me for ever. 
 
 WHEN NELLIE SINGS TO ME. 
 
 I've listened to the summer winds, 
 
 Amid the leaf> trees, 
 I've heard the brooklet's rippling song, 
 
 The humming of the bees ; 
 
 } 
 
24 
 
 r 
 
 f 
 
 At morn and eve tlie birds have snn?^% 
 
 In all their wanton glee, 
 But oh ! a sweeter voice 1 hear 
 
 When Nellie sings to nie, 
 
 AMien o'er the summer sea, the moon 
 
 Has shed her silvery ray^ 
 And gentle tipples Idas the shore, 
 
 'Tis then I love to stray ; 
 Where balmy breezes bearaweet sounds 
 
 Across that sparkling sea ; 
 But there's a sweeter charm than all 
 
 When Nellie sings to me- 
 
 When by her side I often sit, 
 
 Or fold her to my breast ; 
 Oh ! then what brighter joy has earth 'i 
 
 What mortal e'ef so blest ? 
 The world and all its cares are lost 
 
 In that sweet ecstacy, 
 A foretaste of that purer world y 
 
 When Nellie sings to me. 
 
 ■ G — 
 
 
25 
 
 BOON AT THE HEEL. 
 
 This life is a warsle at best ye'll alloo, 
 An' we hae mony back-sets before we win 
 thro' ; 
 
 But sic things we could thole gin it werena 
 
 the way, 
 Yer frien's look asklent whaa ye tint what 
 
 ye hae — 
 
 Whan ye needna their help— oh ! it's a' very 
 
 weel, 
 But their sang seems tae change whan ye're 
 
 doon at the heel. 
 
 It's agarmento' shoddy— a fabric o' thrums 
 The frien'ship that cools whan adversity 
 
 comes ; 
 Ye'll hae plenty o' frien's in yer bricht 
 
 simmer hours, 
 When yer pathway is cheerie wi' sunlicht 
 
 an' tlowera, 
 
 But let a bit frost come— their feelin'a con- 
 
 geal. 
 An their hearts turn like ice, whan ye're 
 
 doon at the heel. 
 
 When ye needna their help— oh ! they'll 
 
 mak' sic a f raise, 
 But ance ye get scanty o' meat an' o' claes ; 
 Whattho'at yer table they've eaten an'drank 
 Whan they kenn'd ye'd a balance a' safe at 
 
 the bank — 
 As ye briested the brae they wad help ye 
 
 tae speil. 
 But they'll shove ye aside whan ye're doon 
 
 at the heel. 
 
11 
 
 1^ I 
 
 i 
 
 26 
 
 If in manners and speech, ye're as rucle 
 
 as a cad, 
 Yer fau'ts they'll o'erlook — but ye're a' 
 
 thint^ that's bad 
 Gin ye hae a come doon, thro' nae fau't o' 
 
 yer ain, 
 Ye'U fin' ye'U be left just tae toddle yer 
 
 lain — 
 Ye may dee in a ditch, ye may beg or may 
 
 steal, 
 It's nae business o' theirs whan ye're doon 
 
 at the heel. 
 
 Ne'er min' hoo ye got it, if siller ye hae, 
 Ye'U be flattered an' praised ilka hour o' 
 
 the day ; 
 At kirk ye'U be welcomed, sae lang's ye 
 
 donate 
 A share o' yer ill-gotten walth tae the 
 
 plate — 
 Gin they dinna just brand ye a limb o' the 
 
 deil, 
 Ye'U get the cauld shouther whan doon at 
 
 the heel. 
 
 I'm sweir tae believe that a' mankind's the 
 
 same, 
 But it's best gin ye needna their praise or 
 
 their blame ; 
 Just steer yer ain path, an' ne'er trust tae 
 
 the reed 
 That's sure tae gie way whan assistance ye 
 
 need ; 
 Keep yer frien' i' yer pooch — hae a heart 
 
 that can feel, 
 An' a' han' that wiU help them that's doon at 
 
 the heel. 
 
 ■I 
 
27 
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE. 
 
 While fevered nations cease their burning 
 
 strife, 
 And war-worn veterans seek their homes 
 
 again— 
 While mourning widows 'miu their blighted 
 
 life, 
 
 And orphans in their prayers, 
 Think of the loved who fell on battle plain, 
 Unmoved by sighs and tears ; — 
 And patriot hearts with holy feelings swell, 
 For the brave ones in duty's cause who fell. 
 
 Within our peaceful kingdom, far and near 
 'Mid city life, in rural cot and hall, 
 A nation's voice is raised in loyal cheer. 
 
 On this bright bridal morn, — 
 God bless the fair Louise resounds from 
 all- 
 God bless the Lord of Lome ; 
 And Scotland sees with patriotic pride, 
 Her son united to a peerless bride. 
 
 On mountain tops the lurid bonfires blaze, 
 As when of old to herald war's alarms, 
 But now the thoughts of peace and joy they 
 raise, 
 
 And call the happy free, 
 Not to repel a proud invader's arms— 
 
 'Tis England's jubilee ; 
 And peer and peasant join with one ac- 
 cord, 
 To[Lail the maiden and her happy lord. 
 

 
 ! li 
 
 28 
 
 Our fair Dominion loyal to the core, 
 
 Vies with our motheMand to wish them 
 
 joy; 
 
 And Scottish hearts where'er the wide world 
 o'er 
 
 One sentiment express, 
 That heaven will watch them with a loving 
 eye— 
 
 And guard, protect, and bless 
 With love felicitous that will abide ; 
 Not the cold form which mocks a purchased 
 bride. 
 
 If such were needed, 'twill our htiarcs 
 
 unite, 
 In closer bond to our beloved Queen, 
 Whose virtues shine with a refulgence 
 bright 
 
 Though sorrow clouds her heart ; 
 A mother to her people she hath been, 
 
 And we must act our part, 
 Like loving children ready to obey, 
 When called to peaceful scene or battle fray. 
 
 Campbell, the scion of a noble race, 
 Whose deeds of valour shine on history's 
 
 page, 
 May'st thou, through life their worthy 
 
 footsteps trace ; 
 
 Though now in battle field, 
 No longer clansmen glorious warfare wage, 
 
 Or deadly olaymore wield : 
 Thine be the path which art and science 
 
 claim, 
 Here add new lustre to thy honoured name 
 
 H 
 
19 
 
 For thee, fair daughter of a noble Queen, 
 We wish tliy Jife as happy, pure, and good ; 
 Thine be the Christian's better part to win, 
 
 And shine in ali thy deeds, — 
 May never grief within thy heart intrude, 
 
 As 'neath thy mother's weeds, — 
 Thine be the queenly virtues we admire ; 
 Thine be the genius of thy noble Sire. 
 
 So when thou hear'st our acclamations peal ; 
 So when thou see'st torch and taper gleam, 
 Know that our hearts are ever staunch and 
 
 leal. 
 And true to all that's free ; 
 Deem not our vows an empty worthless 
 
 dream, — 
 
 We will be true to thee, 
 Long as thou keepest thy wifely honour 
 
 bright. 
 And hold'st thy lord's heart as thy love's 
 
 true right. 
 
 And we, though parted from our father- 
 land — 
 The land thy mother loves with many ties, 
 With willing hands, and willing hearts will 
 stand 
 
 To guard thy happy home — 
 Our country's stainless memories we prize 
 
 Wherever we may roam. 
 And dearer for all time because of thee, 
 Will be to us that land across the sea. 
 
 - 0— 
 
1 
 
 80 
 HAME SICK. . 
 
 I'm wearin' doon the hill o' life, an' sune 
 
 maun reach the tit, 
 Wi' feeble step I toddle roun', or by the 
 
 ingle sit ; 
 While in sweet dreams o' langsyne days the 
 
 time slips saftly by, 
 For my heart's awa' across the sea, 'mang 
 
 scenes o' infancy, — 
 An' tho' for niony years I've been a wan- 
 derer frae her shores, 
 Wi' stronger love as death draM^s near, I lo'e 
 
 her glens an' moors, 
 An' my heart is aften hame-sick for ae look 
 
 ower fell an' flood, 
 Or a breath o' Scotland's mountain air that 
 
 fires the patriot's blood. 
 
 Just five and fifty years gane by, sin' I left 
 
 hame an' frien's ; 
 A sonsy, brawny cheil I was, tho' only in 
 
 my teens, — 
 I'd listened tales, an' conned ower buiks 
 
 which fanned the youth fu' flame, 
 Tae see the wide warld for mysel' an' seek 
 
 a foreign hame, 
 sin' that day ower mony lands my 
 
 weary steps I've traced, 
 An' still the love o' childhood's scenes has 
 
 never been eflaced. 
 But stronger grown wi' failin' years my ae 
 
 desire has been, 
 Tae see the hame I left langsyne ere death 
 
 has closed my e'en. 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
31 
 
 »■■ 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 ■I 
 
 The snaws o' age liae frosted ower my 
 
 haffets thin an' bare, 
 An' my een grow dim an' feeble as the 
 
 gloamin's clrawin' near ; 
 But my soul on wings o' fancy seems tae 
 
 break its bands o' clay, 
 An' tae revel in the dream-land o' the auld 
 
 hame far away, — 
 An' bonny are the visions that licht my soul 
 
 at times. 
 Far grander than the boasted scenes o' 
 
 myrtle-scented climes — 
 They're the scenes o' childhood's cludless 
 
 years, my native banks an' braes, 
 Where I roved a fair-haired laddie wi' the 
 
 frien's o' ither days. 
 
 In fancy's e'e I'm ance again a laddie *mang 
 
 the lave. 
 An' climb the mist-clad mountains where 
 
 the fern and heather wave ; 
 Or listen tae the music o' the bonny whimp- 
 
 lin' burns — 
 Or the sough o' simmer breezes amang the 
 
 mossy cairns : 
 'Mang a' the favourite neuks we kenn'd, by 
 
 meadow, hill an' glen, 
 Wi' lichtsome heart, an' boundin' step I 
 
 rove them ance again. 
 Or wi' a fond expectant heart I seek the 
 
 trystin' tree. 
 Where first I met my life's ae love, now 
 
 lost tae earth an' me. 
 
32 
 
 Deep in my heart's most inward neuk wi' 
 
 miser care I prize, 
 Auld Scotland's hallowed scenes where famed 
 
 historic memories rise, — 
 Her battle fields — dear cherished spots — 
 
 wliere oor forefather's bled. 
 Victorious ower their country's foes, by 
 
 Bruce an' Wallace led, — 
 Or the lonely, wild, romantic spots, by 
 
 mountain, glen or hill, 
 Where the covenanters worshipp'd wi' Peden 
 
 an' Cargill, — 
 Or waukenin' sadder memories — by mony a 
 
 lane hill side, 
 The moss clad cairns which mark the spot 
 
 where Scotland's martyrs died. 
 
 While croonin' ower some auld Scotch sang, 
 some lilt o' happier days, 
 
 I seem tae be amang the scenes where Burns 
 ance tuned his lays— 
 
 Those deathless sangs which tind a chord in 
 ilka Scotchman's breist, 
 
 Whene'er wi' joy elated, or e'er wi' grief 
 oppress'd, — 
 
 Or I wander sad an' pensive by mony a 
 grove an' rill, 
 
 The scenes o' plaintiff melody — the haunts 
 o' Tannahill,— 
 
 Or by the banks o' bonny Tweed wi' pil- 
 grim steps I hie. 
 
 Where sang tlie border minstrel, Scott, 
 high priest o' chivalry. 
 
\ 
 
 t 
 
 33 
 
 At times I'm dow an' dreary, an' the toar- 
 
 drap dims my e'e, 
 Wi' the thvoclit that this my last desire may 
 
 be denied tae me — 
 Gin sic tlie will o' heaven be, I'll humbly 
 
 bow my heid, 
 Contented in a foreign land tae lay me wi' 
 
 the deid, 
 But while I'm tae the fore, I'll ne'er forget 
 
 the langsyne days, 
 When I roamed amang the heather, or 
 
 speiled the gowany braes, — 
 Nor cease to hae a Scotchman's pride in ilka 
 
 honoured name. 
 That frae the path o' poortith rose tae win 
 
 a lastin' fame. 
 
 My weary life has been as fu' o' crosses as 
 
 my plaid ; 
 An' welcome will be rest at last when 'mang 
 
 the mools I'm laid, 
 But oh ! gin I could hae my wish, hoo 
 
 peacefu' could I dee, 
 The' there were nane tae drap a tear, or 
 
 heave a sigh for me ; 
 For I think I'd sleep sae sweetly wi' the 
 
 heather ower my heid, 
 An' the blue bells droopin' lowly as if tae 
 
 mourn me deid. 
 Could my last desire be granted ere the 
 
 thread o' life is riven ; 
 For ae sight o' bonny Scotland wpve like a 
 
 glint o' heaven. 
 
 — — 
 
 >i 
 
I 
 
 f i 
 
 \v 
 
 34 
 HALLOWEEN ME.AIORIES. 
 
 Oonie sit ye doon my anld guid wife, an' 
 
 let us liae a crack, 
 An' ance niair thro' the ])yi,^ane years trend 
 
 memory's storied track ; 
 The happy days o' anld langsyne, the cloud- 
 less an' the free, 
 Come ance niair back tae cheer us wi' ilk 
 
 hallowed memory, 
 For tho' 'tis lang sin' we, guid wife, left 
 
 that hame far away, 
 Htill a' her scenes o' hill an' dale are dear 
 
 tae us tae day. 
 An' wi' a schule-boy love I still think o' 
 
 that happy scene. 
 When roun' oor cosy ingle-side we kept oor 
 
 Halloween. 
 
 8ic langsyne recollections aft yet my bosom 
 
 thrills, 
 When thinkin' o' my dear anld hame amid 
 
 the heather hills, — 
 Wi' what licht-heart I've sported o'er 
 
 gowany bank an' brae, 
 When tae the anld schule hoose we hied 
 
 ilk sunny morn away ; 
 But no a happier day we spent, than when 
 
 we roamed the glen, 
 Tae hunt for hazel nuts tae burn, when 
 
 hame we got again, 
 Or when 'mid joke an' ringin' laugh, whilk 
 
 ilk ane relished keen, 
 We joined the fun-provoking sports in the 
 
 langsyne halloween. 
 
 1 
 
 1^. 
 
35 
 
 What happy moments hae I spent on that 
 
 all hallowed nicht, 
 When lads an' lasses fathered roun' the 
 
 ingle biirnin' bricht, 
 When mirth shone oot frae every face, an" 
 
 a' were happy there, 
 For e'en the auld folks joined us wi' hearts 
 
 devoid o' care : 
 They joined us in the merry laugh, the 
 
 gossip an' the sang, 
 An' for ae nicht at least, we drove awa' care's 
 
 withering stang, 
 We blithely listened tae their screeds o' 
 
 what they'd dune and seen, 
 On this same nicht, lang years ago, — the 
 
 auld Scotch Halloween. 
 
 An' Peggy, dae ye min' the time when I 
 
 was courtin' you, 
 Those first fond years we aften met oor 
 
 pledges tae renew, 
 When ower the hills J gaily sped tae the 
 
 auld trysting tree, 
 My only thocht, tae gain a look an' word o' 
 
 love frae thee, 
 When there we wandered lang, an' talked 
 
 o' days o' comin' joy — 
 For secretly I'd lo'ed thee, sin' a happy 
 
 careless boy. 
 For ye maun min' that nicht, guid wife, 
 
 some forty years T ween, 
 I drew thee as my valentine, that langsyne 
 
 Halloween. 
 
36 
 
 Noo we are toddlin' doon the hill, an' suiio 
 
 in aim reach the tit, 
 ►Still wi' a 'j([ow o' yonthfu' fire my jiuKI 
 
 heart flutters yet, 
 When thinkin' o' that land I lo'e, far, far 
 
 across the sea, 
 An' the happy days that hae been mine, my 
 
 ain giiid wife wi' thee ; 
 Noo bairn's bairns roun' us rin, an' pouk 
 
 thee by the goun, 
 While wi' the younkers on yere knee, I like 
 
 tae hear ye croon 
 Some auld Scotch sang, that aft' has brocht 
 
 the saut tears tae my een. 
 Or tell the frolics we hae had on the auld 
 
 Scotch Halloween. 
 
 Then let us hand oor Halloween as we were 
 
 wont tae dae, 
 Langsyne amang the schule-mates o' the 
 
 auld haine far away. 
 We're nae sae soople's we hae been, an' 
 
 canna join the fun, 
 But wi' the bairns aroun' us, we can tell hoc 
 
 things were dune, 
 W^hen you an' I were bairns tae, as blithe 
 
 as ony here, 
 Wi' burnin' nuts, an' pu'in' stocks, an 
 
 ither frolics queer, — 
 An' let us hope guid wife, that ere in death 
 
 we close oor een, 
 We'll see a few mair winters come tae bring 
 
 us Halloween. 
 
 — — 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 r 
 
I 
 
 A 
 
 t* 
 
 r 
 
 37 
 ST. ANDREW'S DAY . 
 
 Come neeboiir Scots ance mair forgather, 
 
 Tae celebate wi' ane anither, 
 
 The memories o' the land o' heather, 
 
 Tho' far away, 
 All' toast oor patron's name taegether, — 
 
 St. Andrew's Day, 
 
 Come lasses, wi' your witchin' smiles. 
 Again tae cheer wi' women's wiles ; — 
 Come labourers frae yere cares an' toils, 
 
 Ance mair be gay, 
 An' share the joy which aye beguiles, 
 
 St. Andrew's Day. 
 
 Here mony a son o' Scotia's hills, 
 
 Forgettin' a' his griefs an' ills. 
 
 This day will range the glens an' dells 
 
 Far, far away. 
 For 'tis a time ilk bosom thrills, — 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Nor dae we meet alane tae think, 
 O happy times, or toasts tae drink, — 
 A' ye wha mourn at poortith's brink. 
 
 Will hnd us aye, 
 Prepared to honour wi' the chink, 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 We meet tae talk o' what's been dune. 
 The poor frae pinchin' want tae win, 
 Tae keep the wolf, be't debt or dun, 
 
 Frae's door away, 
 'Till frae his heart he bless oor ain 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
n 
 
 H 
 
 38 
 
 We meet tae wipe the widow's tear, 
 AVlia luoiirns o'er husband's early bier 
 He? heart tae lichteii, she maun share 
 
 Oor charity, 
 'Till blessin' a' in heartfelt prayer, 
 
 St. Andrew's tfay. 
 
 I 
 
 fl 
 
 i)v she oppressed \vi' poverty, 
 
 Wha lanj^s her frien's aiice mair tae see, 
 
 Make glad when we can set her free 
 
 Her sea-bound way, 
 Tae thank, when hame across the sea, 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Or they wha've suffered poortith's ills, 
 Amang their native heather hills. 
 An' come amang us sturdy chiels 
 
 Tae push their way. 
 Will ne'er forget, when fortune smiles, 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 There's no' a day in a' the year. 
 We greet wi' sic a hearty cheer, — 
 For Scotia's sons frae far an' near 
 
 Their hearts obey, 
 Tae baud oor patron saint aye dear, 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Frae east tae west, baith south an' north, 
 
 In ilka corner o' the earth. 
 
 Will Scotchmen gie in joyous mirth 
 
 Their feelin's play, 
 Tae celebrate oor patron's birth, 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 f 
 
 A 
 
wm 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 39 
 
 An' in oor aiu Dominion land, 
 Frae forest wild tae sea-girt strand, 
 Scotsmen will meet, a mighty band, 
 
 Respect tae pay. 
 When *^ chill November" brings tae hand 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Our wives and dochters tae mann greet 
 This hallowed time wi' honours meet,— 
 An' bairnies tae maun hae their treat, — 
 
 An' grannies gray, 
 Tell hoo they kept langsyne the great 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Then let us hope that mony a year, 
 
 We lang may meet ilk ither here, 
 
 Oor jokes to crack, oor questions spier, 
 
 An' blithe an' gay. 
 Tae welcome wi' a joyous cheer 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 An' in this land for years tae come. 
 While burnies rin and forests bloom. 
 When hearts are sad an' pooches toom, 
 
 Let nae ane say, 
 We failed tae free frae grief an' gloom, 
 
 St. Andrew's day. 
 
 Note. — The above poem was awarded a 
 Gold Medal by the St. Andrew's Society of 
 Ottawa in 1868. A similar prize was ad- 
 judged to '* The Royal Marriage," 
 
 'i 
 
 I 
 
 — 0- 
 
40 
 
 LOVER'S LANE. 
 
 Down in lover's lane the violets arc bloom- 
 ing, 
 That kiss the limpid waters along the 
 
 river side ; 
 And the tall and stately trees rise in all their 
 leafy glory, 
 Like a pretty maiden watching her re- 
 flection in the tide, 
 The summer breeze is stirring amid the 
 waving leaflets. 
 Sighing to the river that answers back 
 again — 
 And a soothing sense of quiet falls gently 
 o'er my spirit, 
 As I wander in the sun-lit i>ath down in 
 Lover's Lane. 
 
 Down in Lover's Lane when the twilisfht 
 shadows lengthen. 
 Across the verdant sward where the clover 
 is in bloom. 
 With youthful faces glowing and loving 
 arms entwiningf, 
 Sighing, dreaming, whispering, the lover's 
 nightly come. 
 Oh ! what fond endearments are whispered 
 'neath the shadows 
 By lips in rapture breathing, devoid of 
 care or pain. 
 Bright visions of a future with nought to 
 mar its sunshine 
 Are pictured to the innocents ^^hen down 
 in Lover's Lane. 
 
 Mki 
 
41 
 
 I 
 
 3: 
 
 W'iile often there I wander, and sadly there 
 I ponder 
 On scenes of brighter beauty, far, far 
 across the eea. 
 The past comes all before me, while fancy 
 brightly conjures, 
 A time when I was happy, young, inno- 
 cent and free. 
 But oft ther^ uunies a shadow across this 
 pleasant vision, 
 For never can such brightness illume my 
 lot again ; 
 Yet, oh ! it is a pleasure to see these youth- 
 ful dreamers 
 With hearts so light and happy, when 
 down in Lover's Lane. 
 
 Then wander on, young dreamers, 'mid 
 love's unchequered trances, 
 And paint the future radiant with the 
 sunshine of the heart ; 
 For there will come a time when your inno- 
 cent young fancies 
 In the mid-day of your pilgrimage may 
 never bear a part. 
 *Tis time enough to gird up your loins for 
 the struggle ; 
 'Tis time enough to wrestle on life's great 
 battle plain ; 
 So gambol in the sunshine of thy life's gay 
 blushing morning, 
 And taste the sweets of "love's young 
 dream " when down in Lover's Lane. 
 
 — — 
 
V , 
 
 42 
 COME GOT FRAE 'MANG THE NEEPS. 
 
 Eh ! callants dae ye mind the time when 
 
 youth was in its prime, 
 Oor schuleboy days — oor brichtest days — 
 
 life's cheery, cludless time ; 
 What pranks we played, what rievin' raids 
 
 we planned baith nicht an' morn. 
 As thochtless as the maukins that were nib- 
 
 blin' 'mang the com ; 
 When baigie's were just at their best, we've 
 
 ventured 'mang the shaws, 
 Nor thocht for sic misdeeds we yet should 
 
 feel the maister's tawse ; 
 Until a runkled face appears — a voice oor 
 
 paikment threeps — 
 '' Ye deevil's buckies that ye are, come oot 
 frae 'mang the neeps. 
 
 Aye mony happy days we had at Polwarth- 
 
 on-the-green. 
 When thochtlessly we ventured w^here we 
 
 kenn'd we sudna been, 
 Thro' slaps an' stiles, ower bank an' burn 
 
 tae hunt for scrogg's an' slaes. 
 Or may be harry lav'rock's nests by March- 
 
 mont's woods and braes ; 
 We catched the mennents i' the burn, or 
 
 chased the startled hare, 
 Nor thocht oor voices could be heard, or 
 
 ocht tae fricht us there, — 
 But see us rin for life or death— when thro' 
 
 the bushes creeps 
 Tho keeper's dug— and shouts are heard, 
 " Get oot frae 'mang the neeps." 
 
 a 
 
 mr^ 
 
43 
 
 When aulder grown, like a' the cheils, I*d 
 
 but tae hae a lass, 
 An' mony a winnin' glance I cuist aroiin' oor 
 
 singin' class ; 
 For there were sonsy lasses there wi' pawky 
 
 roguish e'en, 
 An' ane I took a fancy till — the miller's 
 
 dochter, Jean ; 
 But whither I was rather slow, or no, I 
 
 dinna ken, 
 But when I just was speirin' — '* could I see 
 
 her up the glen " — 
 Her lad — I ne'er jaloused she'd ane — be- 
 tween us canny creeps, 
 An' wi' a dunch he says tae me, ** Get oot 
 
 frae 'mang the neeps." 
 
 When oot I steer'd intae the warl' tae warsle 
 
 for mysel', 
 Wi' mony pitfa's 'mang my feet where 
 
 thochtless comrades fell, 
 I didna aye steer clear o' them, but still I 
 
 kept my grip, 
 An' managed tae get thro' the mire whane'er 
 
 I made a slip ; 
 An' then I'd aften think o' what my faither 
 
 used tae say, 
 *' Gin wicked drinkin' comrades seek tae 
 
 wile yere feet astray. 
 Ye're sure tae get yersel' ae filed, gin ye 
 
 consort wi' sweeps," 
 " Sae when ye're like tae tint yere gate, 
 
 come oot frae 'mang the neeps." 
 
■ 
 
 44 
 
 In business, tae, I've ventured whiles a wee 
 
 thocht aff the road, 
 When no' content tae save by sma'a, an' 
 
 cautiously tae plod ; 
 I tuik a dab in railway shares, or else in 
 
 minin' stock. 
 An' used tae dream o' waltii secured, until 
 
 the bubble broke. 
 Then, wi' a pooch as toom as when a laddie 
 
 at the schule, 
 I groaned o'er a' my bawbees gane, an' 
 
 ca'd mysel' a fule ; 
 But when the clud o' ruin breaks', an' day- 
 
 licht ance mair peeps, 
 I learned a lesson that wad last when oot 
 
 frae 'niang the neeps. 
 
 I've no' forgot the lesson yet, an' aften 
 
 times sinsyne, 
 Whene'er I strayed frae duty's path, an' 
 
 crossed the boundary line, — 
 When sinfu' pleasures tempted me, an' 
 
 lured me intae ill, 
 I've waTered — left the narrow road, — but, 
 
 yet, when a' was still, — 
 When nicht cam' on wi' gruesome gloom, 
 
 an' a' was dark an' drear, 
 I've kent the sweat come o'er my broo, my 
 
 heart tae quake wi' fear. 
 An' whispered chidin's frae the wee sma' 
 
 voice that never sleeps, 
 Rang i' my ears as i' the past — '* Come oot 
 
 frae 'mang the neeps." 
 
 I 
 
 '11 
 
 I 
 
 '5' 
 
 J 
 

 45 
 THi:i HAWTHORN TREE. 
 Air—*' When the kye come hame." 
 
 'Twas on a summer's sunny eve when nr*- 
 ture sought to rest, 
 
 The setting sun still lingered in the gaily 
 purpled west ; 
 
 'Twas then I heard a maiden sing, *'Tis 
 pleasure dear tae me, 
 
 Tae meet my Shepherd Laddie by the haw- 
 thorn tree." 
 
 By the hawthorn tree, «fec. 
 
 Oh ! sweetly sang that merry maid as she 
 
 skipped o'er the green, 
 A happier smiling face, I trow, in Polwart 
 
 ne'er was seen, 
 Sae rosy was her cheek, and sae brightly 
 
 shone her e'e. 
 When she met her Shepherd Laddie by the 
 
 hawthorn tree. 
 
 By the hawthorn tree, &c. 
 
 When met and clasped in fond embrace, oh ! 
 
 who their joys can tell ? 
 Sae fondly lo'ed that shepherd lad his ain 
 
 dear Isabel. 
 Nae lad she lo'ed like him, aye sae blythe and 
 
 gay was he, 
 When she met her Shepherd Laddie by the 
 
 hawthorn tree. 
 
 By the hawthorn tree, &c. 
 
 M 
 
11^ 
 
 4G 
 
 Lang may they Io*e each other, and laating 
 be their joy, 
 
 Let nothing mar their future peace, or hap- 
 piness destroy ; 
 
 And may that smiling lassie aye as blythe- 
 and happy be, 
 
 When she meets her Shepherd Laddie by 
 the hawthorn tree. 
 
 By the hawthorn tree;^ &,c. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 •0 — 
 
 
 THE ROSE O' WHITESIDE. 
 
 Air — "My Nannie's awa\'* 
 
 'Mong Marchmont's green woodlands the 
 
 flowers blossom fair. 
 The sweetbrier and primrose that perfume 
 
 the air, 
 But nane hae I seen, tho' Tve roamed far 
 
 and wide, 
 Like Maggie, fair Maggie, the Rose o' 
 
 Whiteside. 
 
 Nae fair blushing flow'ret when sparkling 
 wi' dew, 
 
 Though sweet be its odour and rich be its 
 hue, 
 
 Nae sweet scented rose in its fair summer's 
 pride, 
 
 Can vie wi' fair Maggie, the Rose o' White- 
 side. 
 
 i 
 
 n 
 
<■ ^J 
 
 47 
 
 There 'maag her green woodlands eae happy 
 
 blooms she, 
 Where lightly the sweet summer breezes 
 
 blow free, 
 Where wood-songsters warble, where streams 
 
 sweetly glide, . ^, ry 
 
 There blooms my fair Maggie, the Kose o 
 Whiteside. 
 
 When, like a young rosebud, sae tender 
 
 and fair, ., , j i. 
 
 I loved her, I watched her, wi tenderest 
 
 care * 
 And thro' a' life's changes for her I'll pro- 
 
 And wilUovJ, guide, and cherish the Rose 
 o' Whiteside. 
 
 Till Winter's rude blast comes and fades my 
 
 fair Rose, 
 Then may a' my joys and my sorrowmgs 
 
 close * 
 And oh ! lay me down by my dearly loved 
 
 bride, , _ , 
 
 And I'll rest wi' fair Maggie, the Rose o 
 Whiteside. 
 
 — — 
 
 i 
 
48 
 
 OH ! COME Wr ME. 
 
 Oh ! come wi' me, my Bessie, love, 
 
 And gaily we will rove 
 Down by the bonny bnrnie's side 
 
 That wimples thro' the grove ; 
 For sweet it is, at eventide. 
 
 To roam 'mid scenes so gay, 
 'Mong flowers that deck each brake and 
 glen. 
 
 Or 'mong the new-made hay. 
 
 If i 
 
 m.v 
 1) 
 
 The reaper hastens to his home, 
 
 And lilts his simple song, 
 And, sweet, 1 hear the evening bells 
 
 Borne by the gale along ; 
 The gurgling stream that, winding, flows, 
 
 The swift, refreshing gale. 
 Throw their sweet music on the air. 
 
 And till the fragrant vale. 
 
 And in yon groves that fringe the stream, 
 
 The linnets sweetly sing ; 
 But when thy charming voice is heard. 
 
 Then Marchmont's valleys ring ; 
 For oft when I have wandered there^ 
 
 These shady groves among. 
 Oh ! how delightful 'twas to hear 
 
 Thy simple rural song. 
 
 Then come, my love, and charm me now, 
 
 As thou wert wont to do, 
 And meet me, where we oft have met, 
 
 Beneath the spreading yew ; 
 
1 
 
 49 
 
 And, atm in arm, we'll rove once more, 
 While thou shalt smile on me : 
 
 Thus we will spend the joyous hours, 
 And ever liappy be. 
 
 DREAMING OF MOTHER. 
 
 On a pallet, weak and dying, 
 
 A little orphan lay, 
 While through the open window 
 
 He watched the fading day ; 
 'Till weary with his vigil 
 
 His head to rest he laid, 
 And lost in airy fancies 
 In murmurs soft he said— 
 
 <' I love to dream of Mother— 
 
 To feel her loving hand 
 Stretched out to smooth my pillow 
 From that happy spirit land. 
 
 He closed his eyes in slumber, 
 
 And rested calm and still. 
 Just as the sun had vanished 
 Behind the purpled hill,— 
 A smile played o'er his features 
 Like sunshine's wintry beam, 
 While scarce above his breathing 
 He murmured in his dream— 
 " I'm coming, dearest Mother— 
 
 I see thy beck'ning hand 
 Stretched out to give me welcome 
 To that happy spirit land. 
 
 
! 
 
 no 
 
 ADA LEE. 
 
 Sadly tlie twilight is fjilling 
 
 Over the shore and the sea^ 
 And the star of the evening is shinir' 
 
 O'er the home of my sweet Ada I 
 "VVhile lonely I roam where the bilL. 
 
 Are gently embracing the shore, 
 And gaze long and sad o'er the waters 
 To the home of the maid I adore. 
 Ever the blue waves are rolling, 
 Parting my true love from me, 
 While sadly my bosom is longing 
 For the smiles of my sweet Ada Lee , 
 
 Slowly the night's sombre shadows 
 
 Creep over valley and plain, 
 And the pale moon that smiles 'mid the 
 cloudlets 
 
 Come forth from her chamber again. 
 But her smiles only deepen my sorrow 
 
 As they silver the rippling tide, 
 Recalling the moments when fondly 
 
 I gazed on my love by my side. 
 
 Ever the blue waves are rolling, &c. 
 
 Now o'er the blue vault of heaven 
 
 Crystal stars beam with delight, 
 And no voice save the wave's gentle mur- 
 mur 
 
 Breaks on the ear of the night. 
 While the moon glances soft on my pillow 
 
 Her beauties unheeding I see, 
 ]My thoughts are away on the night-winds 
 
 To the home of my sweet Ada Lee. 
 Ever the blue waves are rolling, &c. 
 
1 
 
 51 
 
 
 I LOVE TO DREAM OF HOME, 
 
 I love to dream of home, 
 
 Of kind friends far away, 
 'Tis then sweet mem'ries come, 
 Like morning's cheerinj^ ray, 
 Which from my drooping heart, 
 
 Dispel all care and gloom. 
 And soothing joys impart— 
 Oh ! happy dreams of home. 
 Oh ! happy dreams of home, 
 Around my pillow come, 
 And tell me of the loving ones, 
 Who think of me at home. 
 
 I love to dream of home. 
 
 In fancy's pleasing reign, 
 With loving friends to roam, 
 
 And share their joys again 5 
 Or sport in boyish glee. 
 
 By mead and sylvan scene, 
 As oft in days when we 
 
 Roamed o'er the village green. 
 Oh ! happy dreams of home, &c, 
 
 I love to dream of home, 
 
 Sweet home,— oh ! happy theme, 
 When morning dawn is come, 
 
 To tell me 'twas a dream ; 
 I often wish 'twas more. 
 
 That I indeed were there, 
 Within that cottage door, 
 
 Their happiness to share. 
 
 Oh ! happy dreams of home, &c> 
 
I 
 
 52 
 
 I love to dream of home, 
 
 And though I never meet; 
 Those friends of youth, or roam 
 
 Those scenes so fair and sweet ; 
 Yet, till my dying day, 
 
 Whatever sorrows come, 
 Till memory's decay, 
 
 I'll love to dream of home. 
 
 Oh ! happy dreams of home, &c. 
 
 THE LITTLE WHITE COT IN TEE 
 CLEARING. 
 
 Down in yon little white cot in the clearing, 
 Where the bright summer roses encircle the 
 
 door, 
 
 Dwells a sweet maiden 
 
 With eyes beauty laden. 
 And dark raven tresses her brow streaming 
 
 o'er. 
 Soft is her glance as the bright summer 
 
 dawning, 
 Ere the fierce sun sheds his fire-piercing 
 
 dart. 
 
 Gentle and airy. 
 
 Like light flitting fairy, — 
 
 Sweet winsome Mary, 
 
 The maid oi my heart. 
 
 Down by yon little white cot in the clearing. 
 Often I roam at the close ef the day, 
 
 liisten'ng he. singing, 
 
 Like silver bells ringing 
 Borne on the soft twilight zephyrs away. 
 
 S 
 
53 
 
 Then will a feeling steal over my spirit, 
 Wafting me backward to childhood's bright 
 
 day. 
 
 Years when no sadness 
 
 Darkened my gladness, 
 
 Nor yet love's madness 
 
 Held me in sway. 
 
 Down in yon little white cot in the clearing, 
 Gladly I'd linger till life's closing scene, — 
 
 No more to wander 
 
 Through scenes of bright grandeur, 
 Tempted my wild roving footsteps again. 
 But, in that cottage, though ever so humble, 
 Blythe would I be as a bird on the wing, 
 
 Never to weary, 
 
 Though others are dreary. 
 
 But with my dearie 
 
 A light-hearted king. 
 
 DRAW IN YERE STOOL AN' SIT 
 
 DOON. 
 
 When young widow Glen lived awa' up the 
 
 cleugh, 
 T thocht an' I dreamed o' her af ten eneuch ; 
 If I met her by chance, I looked sheepish 
 
 an' shy, 
 She wad nod, say guid mornin', an' aff she 
 
 gaed by. 
 Bui at last, I plucked courage tae gie her a 
 
 ca', 
 Sae dressed in my Sunday claes, breeks, 
 
 hose an' a', 
 
 I 
 
i 
 
 54 
 
 Oil ! my heart it felt queer when I gat tae 
 
 the toon, 
 An' she said tae me, " Draw in y ere stool ao' 
 
 sit doon." 
 
 I drew in my stool an' "at doon by the fire^ 
 An' naething could I dae but look on an' 
 
 admire. 
 My tongu® wadna wag, sae a word I ne'er 
 
 spak', 
 Till the widow sat doon, an' the silence she 
 
 brak' 
 By speerin' for mither an' faither at home. 
 An' hoo the auld crummie got on that was 
 
 lame, 
 0, the sheep in the fauld^ an' the hens on 
 
 the bank. 
 While aye, no, an' um-phum was a' that I 
 
 »pak'. 
 
 She broeht oot the bottle an' gied me a 
 
 dram, 
 Whilk opened my mou' like an oyster or 
 
 clam, 
 I praised her white han', an' her e'en o' deep 
 
 blue, 
 Then crap closer till her an' pree'd her sweet 
 
 mou/ 
 She never resisted but gied me her han', 
 An' said th; ♦■, her riches, her houses, an' 
 
 Ian 
 I should share, gin I'd leave the auld folks 
 
 in oor toon, 
 An' cannily draw in my stool an' sit doon. 
 
55 
 
 I tell't her lioo lang, an' hoo fondly I'd io'ed 
 
 her, 
 Hoo fu' was my joy noo I'd sought an' hud 
 
 woo'd hetr, 
 A lang fond embrace an' a kiss sealed oor 
 
 vow, — 
 8ae my head has been lichtsome frae that 
 
 time till now. 
 Neist week Fve appointed tae mak' her my 
 
 ain, 
 For I canna thole langer her living her 
 
 lane, 
 Sae I'll dae as she tauld me when tirst I ca'd 
 
 roun', 
 I'll cosily draw in my stool an' sit doen. 
 
 i 
 
 ~o - 
 
 ; 
 
 THE GIRL WHO LIVES OVER THE 
 
 WAY. 
 
 From monting till night I am sighing 
 
 For a glance of a bright roguish eye ►: 
 Wherever I go I am trying 
 
 A face in the crowd to descry ; 
 I sit at my window, so lonely, 
 
 At the dull, dreary close of the day, 
 And my thoughts are ever and only 
 
 Of the girl who lives over the way. 
 
 I know not her name nor her station, — 
 How rich or how poor she may be ; 
 
 But my heart always feels a sensation 
 From a smiling face peeping at me. 
 
56 
 
 
 I think her the loveliest creature 
 That e'er held a fond heart in sway, 
 
 For love beams from every feature 
 Of the girl who lives over the way. 
 
 How often I musingly wonder, 
 
 Whoe'er this fair creature can be ; 
 Or softly I sing while I ponder — 
 
 ** Sweet maid ! I am dreaming of thee." 
 At night I am restless and weary, 
 
 And long for the dawning of day, 
 t'or a loving smile once more to cheer me. 
 
 From the girl who lives over the way. 
 
 i wish I could find out her mother, 
 
 Or father, if such there may be ; 
 And manage, without any bother. 
 
 To get an invite out to tea ; 
 After which, could I catch pa a-dozing, 
 
 And ma, busy, out and away, 
 I would soon make short work of proposing 
 
 To the girl who lives over the way. 
 
 
 MY HAME ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 I've heard you speak o' sunny lands. 
 
 An' far aft' Southern bowers ; 
 I've heard you sing in loyal strains, 
 
 '• This Canada of ours; " 
 But there's a land 'boon a' the lave. 
 
 That's dearer far tae me. 
 Scene o' my happy childhood's hours, 
 
 My hame across the sea. 
 
57 
 
 Tho' lang an' mony a day sine I 
 
 Bade hanie an' frien's fareweel, 
 Yet aften dearest memories 
 
 Will fondly o'er me steal ; 
 An' bring me back the loved o' youth, 
 
 The happy an' the free, 
 Wha aft' my joys an' sorrows shared, 
 
 In my hanie across the sea. 
 
 I canna stop the tear that fa's 
 
 When thinkin' o' the jDast, 
 An' youth's dear frien's noo scattered wide 
 
 Like leaves in winter's blast. 
 Or they wha sleep their lang last rest 
 
 Beneath some kirk-yard tree, — 
 Yet link my heart still closer tae 
 
 My hame across the sea. 
 
 Tho' here I've found a happy hame, 
 
 An' frien's baith leal an' true. 
 Yet noo whan wearin' doon the hill, 
 
 An' sune maun bid adieu ! 
 Tae a' I dearly lo'e on earth ; 
 
 My only wish would be, 
 Tae rest l3eneath my native sod 
 
 In my hame across the sea. 
 
 
 FAITHER'S AIN BAIRN. 
 
 Faither's ain bairn is a blue e'ed lassie, 
 Wi' lint- white locks hingin' doon ower her 
 broo, 
 An' the blush on her cheeks like the roseate 
 dawnin', 
 Or the crimson flowers wat wi' the simmer 
 dew, 
 
58 
 
 Her step is as licht as the breath o' the 
 zephyr, 
 That scarce stirs the grass by the brae 
 side or cairn, 
 As she rins thro' the meadow the gowans 
 she tramps on 
 Spring up frae the tread o* faither's ain 
 bairn. 
 
 Her voice is as sweet as the sang o' the 
 mavis, 
 Whilk sings aye sae saft at the close o' the 
 day, 
 An' she'll lilt and she'll sing the hale day 
 taegither, 
 As she gathers flower wreaths by burnie 
 or brae, 
 The ither wee lassies will toddle taegither, 
 Awa thro' the woods amang heather or 
 fern, 
 Tae meet my wee lassie, for nocht they lo'e 
 better 
 Than the sangs an' the stories o' faither's 
 ain bairn. 
 
 In the lang winter nichts she'll sit by the 
 ingle, 
 Watchin' the flare o' the dancin' lowe, — 
 Or wi' saft dimple fingers she smooths oot 
 the wrinkles. 
 That she wunners tae see in her faither's 
 broo, 
 It cheers ma tae list tae her innocent prat- 
 tle,— 
 And her sweet winnin' ways tae a' sae 
 endearin', 
 
 ' "t 
 

 I 
 
 Sune mak' me forget the care's o' life's 
 battle, 
 As|I kiss the fair cheek o' faither's ain 
 bairn. 
 
 Ilk mornin' an' nicht whan the knee we are 
 bendin', 
 To Him that's the gjiver o' a' that we hae, 
 \Vi' deep fervent zeal I press the petition, 
 
 That oor lassie may never be taken away. 
 That she may be kept frae a' trial an' temp- 
 tation, 
 As pure as she's noo, is my deepest con- 
 cern ; 
 'Till some likelie laddie may woo her an' 
 win her, 
 Tho' she'll aye be tae me her faither's ain 
 bairn. 
 
 — — 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER. 
 
 The glorious days of summer 
 
 Are numbered with the past, 
 And the giants of the forest 
 
 Their withered leaves have cast ; 
 In garden and in wildwood, 
 
 The flowers their bloom have shed, 
 And the maple tree is blushing 
 
 And hanging down its head. 
 
 The parching summer sunshine 
 
 No longer lights the scene. 
 The summer dews no longer 
 
 Refresh the meadows ^reen ; 
 
 -SC-ttx' 
 
g? 
 
 60 
 
 At morning and at evening 
 The hoar frost decks the spray, 
 
 Like the signs of old asre comin<' 
 V\ hen the locks are turning gray. 
 
 The bees have ceased their hummin 
 
 The meadow flowers among, — 
 And hushed in grove and greenwood 
 
 The feathered warblers' song. 
 Though blue the sky above us, 
 
 And mild the mid-day sun — 
 'Tis the summer's lengthening shadow 
 
 And the twilight comino: on. 
 
 As the candle in the socket, 
 
 Gives its last expiring glare, — 
 As hope beams out the brightest, 
 
 Near the clouds of dark despair, 
 As the soul's ecstatic visions 
 
 When the snows of a'je appear. 
 So the glorious Indian Summer 
 
 Proclaims the waning year. 
 
 — — 
 
 THE AULD SCHULE HOOSE ON THE 
 
 GREEN. 
 
 Oh ! weel I remember the scliule hoose, 
 
 That stood fu' snug 'neath the trees. 
 Where the blaeberries grew in the plan tin, 
 
 An' the heather invited the bees, 
 Where the bairnies' voices rang merry. 
 
 As wi' faces an' daidlies sae clean, 
 They scampered awa' thro' the bushes 
 
 To the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
I 
 
 61 
 
 Oh ! I mind when mysel' a bit laddie, — 
 
 Whan life wore its sunniest smile, — 
 How blythely wi' licht heart I lilted, 
 
 Aa I scampered through hedge-slap an' 
 stile ; 
 Or climbed the scrogg tree in the meadow, — 
 
 Or waded the burn clear an' sheen, — 
 Tho' aften I loitered ower late for 
 
 The auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 Still niem'ry delights for tae dwell on 
 
 The scenes o' those happiest days. 
 The burn where we gunipit for mennents ; 
 
 Or the blue bell an' gowan-clad braes 
 Where we twined tlower wreaths for the 
 lassies ; 
 
 For Mary, an' Lizzy, an' Jean, 
 Wha ilka morn toddled there wi' U3 
 
 Tae the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 Oh ! I mind o' that wee theekit schule hoose 
 
 Wi' the rose bushes grown at the door, 
 An' the apple trees in the wee garden, 
 
 Wi' bonny white blossoms hung o'er. 
 The desks wliere we scribbled our copies, 
 
 Or oftener, ate sweeties unseen. 
 While the lassies were clippin' and shoowin' 
 
 In the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 An' still aft' I think o' the plantin 
 
 Where th e geena an' the blaeberries grew, 
 For aften we've sat there an' feasted 
 
 Till our faces an' daidlies were blue ; 
 An' our legs wi' the whuns were a' scartct, 
 
 But w hilk we ne'er cared for a preen, 
 We were blythe as the lamkins that sportit 
 
 Near the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
■ 1 , 
 
 I, 
 i 
 H 
 
 I : 
 
 IL 
 
 62 
 
 An' weel can I mind how we hiintit 
 
 The squirrel high up the fir tree, 
 Or the young cuaha doo that had ventured 
 
 Oct the nest afore it could flee. 
 Where we shunned the deep well where the 
 hunter 
 
 Had fa'n in, an' ne'er was mair seen, 
 When the bell ca'd ns back frae oorsportin' 
 
 Tae the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 Oh, aften I think o' those playmates 
 
 Noo scattered far, far, frae their hames, — 
 Where the laddies still search in the plantin 
 
 For the trees where we cut oot our names, 
 While they tell ane anither the story, — 
 
 That in many a strange foreign scene, 
 Are the laddies wha were years before them 
 
 At the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 I ken na if e'er I may wander. 
 
 Again by that auld cherished spot, 
 But those bright cludless hours o' my child- 
 hood 
 
 An' those playmates shall ne'er be forgot, 
 W^hile deeply engraved on my mem'ry, 
 
 Shall aye be each fair hallowed scene, 
 As in fancy I aften shall linger 
 
 By the auld schule hoose on the green. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
WAIT AND HOPE. 
 
 Cease repining, troubled heart, 
 Time will sooth the bitter smart ; 
 Now, thou','h dark the clouds may lowet, 
 Summer comes with sun and shower, 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 Though thou may'st have loved and yearned 
 For a love yet un returned ; 
 Though thy wealth of love were wasted, 
 For a mutual love untasted, 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 Kindness wins a kindred feeling. 
 And the heart, yet unrevealing, 
 Love's mute mysteries, may yet 
 True felicity beget. 
 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 May be thou hast loved and lost, 
 Shadows o'er thy pathway crossed— 
 Though forlorn thy life may be, 
 There are brighter days for thee. 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 Come, no longer sadly shun 
 Summer breezes, summer sun ; 
 Let not winter's storm clouds roll 
 O'er thy dark, despairing soul. 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 And as sure as summer brings 
 Flowers and fruit and pleasant things ; 
 So thy path will bloom anew, 
 With a mutual love and true. 
 Wait and hope. 
 
 I 
 
64 
 
 CONSTANT STILL. 
 
 We have loved, and we have parted, 
 
 And my life is sadly changed, 
 Since I tind thee fickle-hearted. 
 
 And thy love from me estranged ; 
 Though thou gav'st me many a token, 
 
 Time nor change my hopes would kill, 
 Yet thy ardent vows are broken, 
 
 While my heart is constant still. 
 
 Oh ! how fondly memory lingers 
 
 On the days, when, void of care, 
 Love had touched with fairy lingers 
 
 Future scenes, serene and fair. 
 Now the sky is darkly clouded. 
 
 Storms oi sadness work their will ; 
 Though despair my life has shrouded, 
 
 Yet my heart is constant still. 
 
 How I thought of thee when severed, 
 
 For I deemed thy heart was true. 
 And my trust in thee ne'er wavered. 
 
 Anxious cares I never knew ; 
 Yet there came a sad awak'ning. 
 
 Future years with grief to fill, 
 Silently my heart was breaking. 
 
 Yet I loved thee constant slill. 
 
 Though you wed for wealtli and station, 
 
 And despise my humble love, — 
 Though time brings no consolation, 
 
 And my life a burden prove ; 
 Still the byegone joys I'll cherish. 
 
 Faintly though the void they fill. 
 And, till life or memory perish, 
 
 I will suffer, constant still . 
 
65 
 
 SIDE BY SIDE. 
 
 Side by side in the churchyard lying^, 
 
 Mother and children sleep ; 
 Where summer winds through the trees are 
 sighing, 
 And flowers 'mid the mosses peep ; 
 Down in the vale the murmuring stream ; 
 Glances and waves in the noonday gleam ; 
 While mother and children peacefully 
 dream, 
 
 Side by side. 
 
 There were two little mounds in the old 
 churchyard — 
 Two little tombstones, telling 
 Where the loved and lost 'neath the verdant 
 sward, 
 Had their last long silent dwelling : 
 And the mother's wish on her dying bed. 
 To be laid by the side of the cherished 
 
 dead, 
 Is granted — Mother and sons are laid, 
 
 Side by side. 
 
 Over the fresh made mound I linger, 
 
 In dreams of the silent night. 
 For that patient spirit at last has winged 
 her 
 Happy, heavenward flight, — 
 Away from the toils and struggles of earth, — 
 From a world of changing gloom and mirth, 
 Now with the saved in their glorious birth, 
 
 Side by side. 
 

 li 
 
 . 
 
 l<\ir o'er tlio soa my si)ii'it waudors, 
 
 Awiid eacli liallowed scene, 
 Wiiere tlie old familiar stream meanders, 
 
 And the vallej'^ is fresh and green. ; 
 As in days of yore Avhen we wandered there, 
 With youth's guy spirits void of care. 
 And pictured the future bright and fair, 
 
 8ide by side. 
 
 1'hough the home, once happy, now U 
 shrouded, 
 In sorrow's sombre gloom, 
 And the hearts of mourning friends are 
 clouded. 
 With the shadow of the tomb. — 
 A light gleams forth througli the dark <]es- 
 
 pair ; 
 A hope of a joyous meeting there. 
 Far from earth's bitter grief and care, 
 
 Side by side. 
 
 May a mother's dying prayer be granted, 
 
 That we who linger here, 
 jMay not rest with the joys of earth con- 
 tented, 
 l>ut strive for that better sphere, 
 To which a Saviour's smiles entreat us : 
 \\ here the loved ones gone before shall 
 
 meet us, — 
 Where a mother's fond embrace will greet 
 us, 
 
 Side by side. 
 
 ^o 
 
 I 
 
\ 
 
 % 
 
 67 
 
 LITTLE BLUE-BELL. 
 
 Down in the dell wheie the streamlet glides 
 cheery, 
 Now in the sunshine, and now in the 
 
 a ll C) rj o 
 
 WhcAe bees humming blythely seem never 
 to weary, 
 Cleaning their sweets from the flowers m 
 the glade. 
 (Jhuicinf,' so modestly out from the shadows, 
 INoddmg its head to the zephyrs' faint 
 aw ell. 
 Brightly reflecting the sky's cloudless aznre, 
 Pride of the valley the little blue-bell. 
 Little blue-bell, waving blue-bell, 
 List to the fairy chimes rung in the 
 
 moonlight 
 Little blue-bell, modest blue-bell, 
 ^ Pride of the valley is little blue-bell. 
 
 iX.wn in the valley as modest and winning, 
 As the fair flow'rets that dapple the glade, 
 Blythe as a fairy, with steps light and airy, 
 (ilooms in her spring-hood, my dear little 
 maid- 
 Often 1 sing of her charms to the breezes^- 
 ( >ft' to the song-bird her graces 1 tell, 
 Often compare her to flowers of the meadow, 
 Dear to my hearr is my little blue-belL 
 Little blue bell, charming blue-bell. 
 List to its fairy chimes rung in the 
 
 moonlight, 
 Little blue-bell, modest blue-bell. 
 Pride of tue valley is little blue-bell 
 
 S 
 
68 
 
 Kever may winter blasts come near her 
 dwelling, 
 Never chill night dews wither the bloom, 
 Safe in her home from the storm and the 
 tempest, 
 Ever the same when a- wooing I come ; 
 Soon may the hour come when claiming her 
 promise, 
 Safe in my home and my bosom to dwell, 
 Years may roll o'er us, as happy and joyous, 
 As when I first met my little blue-bell. 
 Little blue-bell, winsome blue-bell. 
 List to the fairy chimes ring in the 
 
 moonlight, 
 Little blue-bell, modest blue-bell. 
 Pride of the valley is little blue-bell. 
 
 — o— 
 
 THE AULD THACKIT HOOSE. 
 
 Just ower the wee briggie that crosses the 
 burn. 
 That rins by the fit-o' the green. 
 There's a humble bit cottage wi' ivy clad 
 wa's, 
 Where niony blythe days I hae seen : 
 The inside is hamely, yet tidy an' neat, 
 
 It's inmates are kindly an' douce, 
 An' there's aye a warm welcome whenever 
 lea' 
 On the folks at the auld thackit hoose. 
 
\ 
 
 I 
 
 69 
 
 Hoo cantie we've been by the aulcl ingle 
 side, 
 When the lang winter nichts had set in ; 
 We sat in the glow of the cheery peat tire, 
 
 When the story an' sang wad begin ; 
 We sang the sweet lilts o' oor ain native 
 land. 
 When our heroes were Wallace and Bruce, 
 Or listened tae auld-f arrant tales ^-hat were 
 tauld. 
 In the neuk o' the auld thackit hoose. 
 
 'Twas a picture o' hamely contentment an' 
 cheer, 
 That riches or state couldna bring, 
 Auld Jock by the ingle, his pipe in his 
 cheek, 
 Was as happy as kaiser or king, 
 Auld Babbie sat there wi' her wark on her 
 knee : 
 On the hearth stane lay Rover an' puss, 
 For even the cats an' the dugs would agree 
 'Neath the roof o' the auld thackit hoose. 
 
 Whene'er I return to the auld village green, 
 Tae the scene o' my boyhood's bright 
 days. 
 The joys o' the past come again tae my heart 
 
 As I roam by the burnies an' braes ; 
 An' here wi' auld cronies, still faithfu' an' 
 true, 
 We meet a' sae frienly an' crouse, 
 Tae crack ower the scenes o' the happy lang 
 syne. 
 In the neuk o' the auld thackit hoose. 
 
70 
 WHr^N THP: days ARE CREEPTN' IK 
 
 T' e dimmer flowers are withered, 
 
 Tlie siuiiiier winds are gane. 
 All' yeliuw leaves lie scattered 
 
 On upland an' in glen ; 
 1'he burnie lilts sae dolefu'. 
 
 As its drunilie water's rin. 
 Ail' the sun curtails its glances 
 
 U'hen the daj's are creepin' in. 
 
 'J'ke stacks hae a' been thackit — 
 
 We've laid aside the plough, 
 1'he tatties a' are howkit. 
 
 An' the simmer dargs are thro'. 
 An' noo beside the ingle, 
 
 In the netdi sae anug an' cleaji; 
 ^ae canty we foregather 
 
 When the days are creepin' in. 
 
 'NiH> winter's comin' surely, 
 
 Wi' canldrife win's an' snaw, — 
 We're thankfu' for oor biggin', 
 
 Altlio' oor cot'a but sma', 
 We envy nae the riches 
 
 Sae mony try to win ; 
 ^Ve hae oor simple pleasures 
 
 \Mien the days are creepin' ifi. 
 
 All' for the helpless ooteast3 
 
 We never grudge a bite, — 
 "We're fain tae gie them shelter 
 
 Krae the nippin' winter's nicht, 
 For we think o' oor ain laddie 
 
 Far frn'« a' his kith an' kin, 
 Aniaug strangers may oe fendii)' 
 
 When the days are creepin' \n. 
 
7! 
 
 Aulil ai^o coiiius oil us croepiu\ 
 
 For oor siniiiiei' days are past, 
 All' snue we maun be .sleepiu', 
 
 Aiiiaug tile luools at last; 
 l>iit yoiiiler, when oor hope is, 
 
 L^Vee frae a' stains o' sin, 
 'I'here will be nae cheerless wiiiter.-?, 
 
 When the days are creepin' in. 
 
 l.OUNSDALE HAUOtLS. 
 
 How oft' in sunny summer days. 
 We wandered down the silent dell. 
 
 To irather scrofCLjs, or lijeens, or alaes, 
 <)r pull the primrose on the braes, 
 The foxglove and the pale blue-bell. 
 
 H eve, too, when hearts were tuned to love, 
 And nature seemed to share our joy, 
 
 We trysted in the shady grove, 
 
 To [)light our vows — Avhile fancy wove 
 A dream of bliss without alloy. 
 
 Ah I that was bliss which could not last, 
 
 Yox lictle then we knew of care ; 
 We thought not that time's withering blast 
 Would wreck our hopes as on it passed, 
 And leave our hearts alj bleak and bare. 
 
 Yet, when I roam again the scene, 
 And see it just as in my prime, 
 
 1 crush the tliought — what might have been, 
 
 And feel a glow of peace within 
 That gilds once mure my childhood's time. 
 
72 
 
 Bright meinories of the past, come back, 
 And dear compaiii )ns round me play, 
 We seek the okl famdiar track, 
 While laughter light and boyish talk 
 Beguile the sunlit woodland way. 
 
 And though the clouds of care may loom, 
 
 Our fancy still will brighter glow — 
 Away with all despair and gloom. 
 When all our old loved flowerets bloom, 
 And zephyrs whisper soft and low. 
 
 Who could be sad in such a spot, 
 
 Where beauty smiles on every hand — 
 
 Where blooms the sweet forget-me-not, 
 
 Where lilies on the waters float. 
 And pebbles glisten 'mid the sand ? 
 
 It were unfitting I should bring, 
 A tear or sigh to such a spot — 
 N^y, round it still let memory cling, 
 To brighten all, as time's fleet wing 
 Brings age and sorrow as my lot. 
 
 Then fare-thee-well, — and if denied 
 
 To roam again thy banks and braes, 
 I'll cherish with a miser's pride 
 These flowers — when o'er the ocean wide. 
 They '11 bring me back my childhood 
 days. 
 
 
73 
 
 EDINBURGH'S WELCOME TO PRINCE 
 ALBERT VICTOR, 
 
 At the Opening of the Exhibition of 1886. 
 
 What's a' the steer, that the bugles are 
 soundin', , 
 
 An' cannon belch forth frae the crest o 
 the rock ? 
 What mean the cheers frae the meadows 
 resoundin*, .^ 
 
 An' windows an' balconies crowded wi 
 folk ; 
 High aboon a', hear the pipes wi' their 
 bummin', ^ ^ 
 
 Soundin' the pibroch, sae piercin' an 
 shrill, — 
 What's a' the steer ? Why, the young Prince 
 is comin', 
 Sae, welcome, my bonnie lad, come when 
 ye will. 
 
 Come they frae mansion, an* come they 
 
 frae cottage, 
 Frae field an' frae forest, the mountain 
 
 an' glen. 
 The children in arms, tae the old in their 
 
 dotage. 
 Leal hearbs hae a' tae their country an' 
 
 Queen ; 
 Frae crag an' frae peak, the wild cheers are 
 
 ascendin', 
 An' echo replies frae the valley an' hill. 
 The leal hearts o' Scotia their voices are 
 
 blendin', 
 Wi' " Welcome, my bonnie lad, come 
 
 when ye will." 
 
74 
 
 Gin ye inherit yere gran'aires' devotion, 
 Tae a' that pertains tae the guid o' the 
 land ; 
 Tae learnin's advancement— the spread an' 
 promotion 
 0' art, skill and science on every hand ; 
 Then, welcome ye'U ever be here tae the 
 north, lad. 
 The proud seat o' iearnin', o' courage an* 
 skill, 
 We'll mak' the hills ring frae the Clyde tae 
 the Forth, lad, 
 Wi' *' Welcome, my bonnie lad, com© 
 when ye will." 
 
 ii 
 
 MITHER'S BONNY LASS. 
 
 We hae a fair-haired lauchin' wean. 
 
 As fu' o' mirth an' glee 
 As ony friskin' lamb that sports 
 
 Upon the gowany lea ; 
 An' should ye speir her name, she'll look, 
 
 Wi' roguish, lauchin' face. 
 And say, "I'se dot nousser name — 
 
 I'se mither's bonny lass." 
 
 ( 
 
 Ay, 'deed, she's mither's lassie noo. 
 
 The younglin' o' the fauld, 
 An' oor Laarts cling closer till her. 
 
 As we feel we're growin' auld ; 
 We watch an' guard wi' ceaseless care, 
 
 Frae a' the storms that pass. 
 That no a bitin' blast can harm 
 
 Oor mither's bonny lass. 
 
] 
 
 75 
 
 An' whan she says her prayers at nicht^ 
 
 An' cuddles 'mang the claes, 
 We ask kind heaven tae be her guide 
 
 In a' her comin' days ; 
 We nichtly plead that she may hae 
 
 The spirit's savin' grace, 
 Tae keep her pure as she is noo, 
 
 Her mither's bonny lass. 
 
 Her mither's heart aft pleads wi' Him 
 
 Wha blessed the bairns lanp^? 
 Tae hae a watchfu' e'e upon 
 
 This wee, wee, tot o' mine ; 
 Tae shield her in his lovin' airms, 
 
 Frae a' sin's foul disgrace, 
 An' be thro' life a guide an' frien' 
 
 Tae mither'a bonny lass. 
 
 •=jsyne, 
 
 — — 
 
 3 
 
 KISS THE BAIRNS FOR ME. 
 
 My guidman's far awa' frae hame, 
 
 An' oh ! I miss him sair ; 
 But, still, I hen that he is leal, 
 
 An' Ic/'es me a' the nmir. 
 For when his tender letters come^ 
 
 Frae far across the sea ; 
 He ne'er forgets the weans, but says, 
 
 '' Just kiss the bairns fo-r me.'' 
 
 Oh ! dool and dark wad be my lot^ 
 If 'twere na' for the weans ; 
 
 I've aye their love tae cheer me an, 
 Tho' *ar may be my frien's. 
 
76 
 
 An' weel T ken the fcaither's heart 
 
 Wherever he may be, 
 Gangs oot in kindly words o' love, 
 
 '' Just kiss the bairns for me." 
 
 I hear their lauchin' voices ring ; 
 
 I see ilk rosy cheek, 
 An' when my thochts are fair awa' 
 
 My heart's owerfii' to speak. 
 But when at nicht they cuddle doon, 
 
 An' close ilk roguish e'e, 
 I ne'er forget their faitlier's wish : 
 
 "Just kiss the bairns for me." 
 
 My prayers are aye that we ere lang 
 
 May meet, an' jmrt nae mair ; 
 Tho' puir oor lot, wi' him we'll a' 
 
 Our joys an' sorrows share. 
 But while he roams in distant lands, 
 
 Tho' lang oor partin' be, 
 I'll ne'er forget his lovin' words, 
 
 " Just kiss the bairns for me." 
 
 — o — 
 
 MY 
 
 HEART WARMS 
 TARTAN. 
 
 TAE THE 
 
 t 
 
 Is there a land like Scotland, 
 
 Wi' sons sae brave an' free, 
 
 Can show sae fair a record 
 
 O' dauntless chivalry ? 
 
 I love her cloud-capped mountains, 
 
 Her glens and whiniplin' rills, 
 
 While my heart warms tae the tartan 
 
 An' my native heather hills. 
 

 I love thee, ciear aulcl Scotland, 
 Thy mountains heather clad, 
 
 For my heart warms tae the tartan ^ 
 An' the lads wha wear the plaid, 
 
 We'll ne'er forget her heroes, 
 
 Wha fought in freedom's cause, 
 An' laid the i^^rand foundation 
 
 0' a' her righteous laws ; 
 I listen tae the lyrics 
 
 By deathless x^oets sung, 
 AVhile my heart warms tae the tartan 
 
 An' my native mither tongue. 
 
 I love thee, dear auld Scotland, &c , 
 
 I hear the pibroch sound in' 
 
 A rousin' martial blast. 
 With shattered pennons tlyin' 
 
 The troops are marchin' past ; 
 A hearty loyal welcome, 
 
 Sounds in that loud hurrah, 
 An' my heart warms tae the tartan 
 
 An' the gallant forty-twa. 
 
 I love thee, dear auld Scotland, &c. 
 
 In mony lands I've wandered, 
 
 Far, far across the sea, 
 But aften hameward turnin' 
 
 My thochts wad wander free. 
 An' noo I tread the heather, 
 
 I fain would be at rest, 
 For my heart warms tae the tartan^ 
 
 An' the land I lo'e the best. 
 
 I love thee, dear, auld Scotland, 
 
78 
 
 HOW SHALL WE HONOUR HIM. 
 
 How shall we honour him now he is gone, 
 
 How shall we show that we cherish hia 
 name 1 
 Shall it be cut in memorial stone ? 
 
 The tribute we pay to his fealty and fame. 
 Shall it be blazoned on pillar or scroll I 
 
 Shall it be sounded in speech or in song ? 
 Nay, let his deeds be the theme of our soul, 
 
 Like him, loving right, and despising the 
 wrong. 
 
 Bow down the head, reverently tread, 
 (jartield has gone to his last silent rest ; 
 
 Here let us plight our souls to the right. 
 Thus shall we honour him, bravest and 
 best. 
 
 ♦'>. 
 
 Mourn we not, then, as do those hope- 
 bereft, 
 Learn we the lesson his pure life has 
 taught ; 
 Hi^h let us prize the example he left. 
 
 Thus shall his memory ne'er be forgot. 
 Thus shall his fame and unsullied name 
 
 Still in our memories ever be green ; 
 Be our life's aim free from censure and 
 blame. 
 And may our record be stainless and 
 clean. 
 
 Bow down the head, &c. 
 
 -gEBy Tr^"! .m I ' M gii J - 
 
»'>, 
 
 High was the standard he soufjht to attain, 
 High was the trust that the nation be- 
 stowed ; 
 And though cut off in the dawn of his reign, 
 Mighty the power that he wielded for 
 good. 
 Then let the nation, the rich and the poor, 
 Follow his steps on the pathway he trod ; 
 Thus shall we honour him, noble and pure, 
 And live for our coun^,ry, our people, and 
 God. 
 
 Bow down the head, &c. 
 
 
 *^ WHERE LAST WE MET." 
 
 Where last we met, dear Aggie, 
 
 Beneath the hazel bower, 
 Where winding Langton watereth 
 
 The fragrant woodland flower ; 
 Where sweet the feathered warblers wake 
 
 The echoes o' the glen. 
 An' nature smiles a welcome aye, 
 
 Oh ! meet me there again. 
 
 Where last we met, dear Aggie, 
 
 Fair spring had decked the scene. 
 And the cooling breeze was whispering 
 
 'Mid the bower's sweet foliage green. 
 Tho' many years have passed, love, 
 
 Since last we roamed the glen — 
 Tho' now pale autumn welcomes us, 
 
 Oh ! meet me there again. 
 
80 
 
 I 
 
 Where last we met, dear Aggie, 
 
 Tho' all was fair around, 
 Yet our hearts were sad aud sorrowful, 
 
 No peace our bosoms found. 
 For we had met to say farewell, — 
 
 We wept, we sighed in vain. 
 We dared not hope that ever, love, 
 
 We'd wander there again. 
 
 But now when met at last, love, 
 
 Oh ! think not of the past, 
 But rather let our hearts rejoice 
 
 We've met again at last. 
 Now from thy throbbing bosom, love, 
 
 Let pleasure banish pain, 
 And looking on to future joys 
 
 We'll happy be again. 
 
 WON. 
 
 With what a glow of happiness. 
 
 My heart does wildly beat, 
 The warm bvood courses through my veins, 
 
 My joy is now complete ; 
 For I had thought her lost to me, 
 
 And all my hopes undone ; 
 But, no, she said that only I 
 
 Her trusting heart had won, 
 
 I asked her to become my bride, 
 
 I told her how 1 ioved, 
 How months and years of ardent hope 
 
 My constancy had proved ; 
 
 V:'' 
 
81 
 
 And though but poor in worldly wealth, 
 
 Her heart was still the shrine, 
 Where all n^y wealth of love I'd lay, 
 
 If she would still be mine. 
 
 I knew that some had sought her as 
 
 The partner of their joys. 
 While all the love that I had shown 
 
 Was from the tell-tale eyes. 
 But they a deeper love had told 
 
 Than tongue could have revealed, 
 For soon I found her heart was mine, 
 
 Her vow to me was sealed. 
 
 Through all the years of youth's bright joys, 
 
 I never knew such bliss, 
 As when in fond embrace we took 
 
 Love's first sweet mutual kiss. 
 And, oh ! may heaven protect and guide 
 
 Where'er our paths may be, 
 Until I claim her for my own. 
 
 As all in all to me. 
 
 — o — 
 ITHER FOLK'S BAIRNS. 
 
 In my batchelor's ha', I can whustle at a' 
 The cares whilk the married folks hae ; 
 My spirits are licht, an' my skies are aye 
 bricht. 
 Let storms rave withoot as they may. 
 I ne'er fash my held aboot statecraft or 
 creed. 
 Or the worry o' hoosehold concerns ; 
 Wi' nae wife nor wean, yet I'm bound tae 
 compleen, 
 I'm plaguit wi' ither folk's bairns. 
 
82 
 
 It's no' that 1 hae-na, a love for the weanies, 
 
 I like the wee tottums fu' weel, 
 But when niithers insist, that the younkers 
 be kissed, 
 I'm tempted tae say what I feel ; 
 It's no' me they care for, — the why and the 
 wherefore. 
 They'd twine me as easy's their pirns, 
 They ken I've the cash, syne that'& hoo they 
 fash. 
 An' plague me wi' ither folk's bairns . 
 
 If there's ae-thing I hate, it's when sittin' 
 up late, 
 Tae gie the last touch tae a sang, 
 Tae hear frae neist door, an infantile roar, 
 
 I'rae lungs that are sturdy an' Strang. 
 When the days darg is dune, I sit an' I croon. 
 While my thochts are awa' 'mang the 
 starns, 
 But I'm fain tae gie in, for the whingin' an' 
 
 din, — 
 I'm' doited wi' ither folk's bairns. 
 
 I'm no' sae auld yet but a wife I can get, 
 Wi' acosie bit-hoose o' my ain, 
 An' gin weanies appear, oor auld age tae cheer, 
 
 Then maybe they'll lea' me alane ; 
 But I've set doon my fit, that a wife I will 
 get, 
 Gin I seek thro' the Merse and the 
 Mearns, 
 For nae langer I'll thole, that the peace o' 
 my soul 
 Should be blighted wi' ither folk's bairns. 
 
 Mt 
 
 ,>^- 
 
83 
 
 THE LAND OF THE MAPLE FOR ME. 
 
 Here's a health to the land of the forest aud 
 flood, 
 And the Queen who rules over the free ; 
 While united we stand as our forefathers 
 stood, 
 In liberty's van we will be ; 
 Though our hearts fondly cherish the me- 
 mories of old, 
 And the homes we have left o'er the sea, 
 Our love for old Canada ne'er shall grow 
 cold— 
 Oh ! the land of the maple for me. 
 
 
 If invasion should threaten our lake- 
 sheltered land, 
 And the war-cloud be thundering near, 
 We will stand a true-hearted and vigorous 
 band, 
 To strike for our country so dear ; 
 While the memories of those who fought not 
 in VMin, 
 To bequeath us the rights of the free, 
 Shall nerve us to deeds of true valour 
 again, — 
 Oh ! the land of the maple for me. 
 
 Then hurrah ! for old Canada, home of the 
 free, 
 May hea\en still over her smile, 
 And may plenty and peace the true blessings 
 still be, 
 Of our hard-handed heroes of toil. 
 
 I :> 
 
84 
 
 From her ocean-girt coast, to her wild forest 
 shades, 
 Where the hall or the homestead may be, 
 Ever brave be her sons, and devoted her 
 maids — 
 Oh ! the land of the maple for me. 
 
 UNDER THE ORCHARD TREES. 
 
 \ n ! 
 
 As amid the silent sadness, 
 
 Of winter's gloomy days ; 
 We dwell on bygone pleasures, 
 
 Of the Summer s golden haze ; 
 So in my heart's lone sadness, 
 
 Comes memory's passing breeze, 
 To tell the houi3 of gladness, 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 'Twas in the days of summer, 
 
 When first we wandered there *, 
 When the blossoms lent their fragrance 
 
 To the balmy twilight air : 
 And my hopes were young and blooming, 
 
 As when fancy only sees 
 The tuture bright with sunshine, 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 My heart went out in rapture, 
 
 To the song birds in their glee— 
 The flowers bedecked my pathway, — 
 
 My sky from clouds was free : 
 The hours brought only svreetness, 
 
 As the flowers repaid the bees ; 
 And we reckoned not their fleetness, 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 r4 
 
 I 
 
 B' 
 
 lii, =^f— • 
 
II 
 
 VI 
 
 85 
 
 Each look, each word, and promise, 
 
 I stored within my heart, 
 'Till her image there engraven 
 
 Became of me a part ; 
 Wherever fortune called me, 
 
 O'er foreign lands or seas, 
 I fed on dreams of wooing, 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 The orchard trees are leafless, 
 
 Their branches gaunt and bare, 
 Keep time to the winds of winter, 
 
 In a low funereal air,— 
 The leaves are lowly lying, 
 
 Where the biting wintry breeze, 
 Has left them sear and mouldering 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 So are my life's hopes faded, 
 
 And mingle with the dust,— 
 So has my dream departed 
 
 Of a life of love and trust : 
 And all that's left to cheer me, 
 
 This sad heart only sees, 
 That summer gleam of wooing, 
 
 Under the orchard trees. 
 
 -0— 
 
I 
 
 i 1 
 
 ! I 
 
 36 
 
 HEAVEN IS WHERE OUR FATHER IS 
 (Music by G. E. Kemp.) 
 
 Little hearts which throb with pain — 
 
 Little eyes which swim in tears, 
 Let me take you to my heart, 
 
 Let me quiet all your fears, 
 I will teach you of that home 
 
 Where our loved ones rest in bliss , 
 All our troubled hearts need know — 
 
 Heaven is where our Father is. 
 
 Yes, thore is heaven, calm, peaceful heaven. 
 There are the dear ones happy and blest, 
 There with the F;^ther they loved while 
 on earth — 
 There, in His presence only, is heaven : 
 Yes, there is heaven. 
 
 Hearts may cling to earthly ties : 
 
 These, alas ! will pass away : 
 Idols that we worship now. 
 
 We will find are only clay. 
 All is lleeting here below — 
 
 One by one our friends we miss, 
 But this truth should calm onr woe. 
 
 Heaven ia where our Father is. 
 
 Yes, there is heaven, &:c. 
 
 Sweet the thought that those we miss 
 
 Sympathise with all our care, 
 And rejoice to know, we seek 
 
 After life to join them there ; 
 
 .^. 
 
 2...M 
 
 ,M, 
 
 ... ' ^ji-iniB i m i 
 
 Bfe»;w>»«w»t.-!BBSri!S 
 
•67 
 
 And though doubts and fears assail. 
 We will cling in faith to this, 
 
 That at last we may unite 
 In that heaven where Father is. 
 
 Yes, there is heaven, &a 
 
 — o — 
 
 LEEZIE TROTTER, 
 
 When Langton woods were smilin' fair^ 
 
 In a' their simmer bloom, 
 An' breezes bore frae Harden Shaw, 
 
 The wild-flowers sweet perfume, 
 I wandered by the wimplin' burn, 
 
 An' by the reddens sought her, 
 Wha lo'es rae better than the lave. 
 
 My winsome Leezie Trotter, 
 
 I see the leddies frae the ha', 
 
 A' decked in silk array, 
 Yet envy not their feckless lives. 
 
 That aimless pass away. 
 My Leezie's but a kintry lass. 
 
 The dochter o' a cottar, — 
 But far aboon the lave I lo'e 
 
 My gentle Leezie Trotter. 
 
 The lads come far an' near to woe, 
 An' jouk an' dance aboot her. 
 
 But faith she's naething blate tae teli 
 That nane amang then suit her. 
 
88 
 
 11 
 
 Yestreen, beneath the hazel's shade, 
 Where wimples Langton water, 
 
 Her hand in mine, I vowed my love. 
 And won my Leezie Trotter. 
 
 — o — 
 JOHNNY'S GRAVE. 
 
 When last I wandered here. 
 
 And rested on this graveyard stone, 
 A little brother, loved and dear, 
 Culled the flow'rets growing near. 
 And now I'm all alone. 
 He rests beneath that sod ; 
 
 No power his life could save, — 
 His spirit's with his God, 
 And here is Johnny's grave. 
 
 And now I sit and gaze 
 
 Upon the well known scenes around. 
 And list' the warblers hymn their praise,- 
 The cattle lowing where they graze. 
 Or streamlet's rippling sound ; 
 But not as sounds of joy, 
 
 Which oft my soul did crave, 
 I mourn a gentle boy, — 
 I weep by Johnny's grave. 
 
 And sacred are the tears 
 
 That moisten his last resting place ; 
 This spot my soul r'^^veres. 
 Here all earth's pains and fears 
 Cairn solitude shall chase. 
 And in their stead bring peace, 
 
 To nerve niy soul, to brave 
 Earth's sorrows, till they cease,— 
 'Till here I tind a grave. 
 
 '£ 
 
89 
 
 THE LOVE 0' MY SCHULE-BOY 
 
 DAYS. 
 
 There's a langsyne fancy comes back tae 
 me, 
 
 When I think o* my Scottish hame ; 
 There's a lowe o* love that rekindles again, 
 
 That brings back a dear ane's name : 
 An' ance mair I wander the bonny glen 
 
 Where the clear wimplin' burnie plays, 
 An' the primrose blooms on the banks I 
 roamed, 
 
 Wi' the love o' my schule-boy days. 
 
 The flowers were gay in their brichtest 
 hues. 
 
 And the woods in their freshest green ; 
 An' there was-na a clud tae darken the 
 sky. 
 
 Or a sorrow tae mar the scene ; 
 Oor voices rang wi' as merry a lilt. 
 
 As the birds that sang on the sprays, 
 As I daidled aboot in the simmer hours 
 
 VVi' the love o' my schule-boy days. 
 
 The burnie murmurs the same auld sang, 
 
 By the banks where the hr,zels grow ; 
 But it has nae langer the cheerie soun', 
 
 That it had in the lang ago : 
 For it tells o' my schule-mates scattered 
 wide, 
 
 Far awa' frae its banks an' braes,— 
 An' it tells o' a mound near byj where slaeps 
 
 The love o' my schule-boy days. 
 
I 
 
 !^ 
 
 ! I 
 
 If ^ 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 I 
 I I 
 
 i I i 
 
 I ' \ 
 
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 90 
 
 It canna be sinfu' tae cherish the thocht^ 
 
 That whan dime wi' this warl' o' toil, 
 We'll meet in that bonny land aboon, 
 
 As if pairted a little while ; 
 That the years gane by will seem as a day;, 
 
 Whan free'd frae earth's dreary haze ; 
 An' in happier scenes ance mair I'll renew 
 
 The love o' my schule-boy days. 
 
 THE BAIRNIE TAK'S AFTER HIS 
 FAITHER. 
 
 We hae a bit laddie doonbye at the hoose, 
 An' the mither aboot him is cantie and 
 
 crouse, 
 As for me, wha am generally sober an' 
 douse, 
 
 They say I am prood o' him raither ; — 
 Wi' his carroty pow he is unco like me ; 
 He's a kip tae his nose, an' a cast i' his e'e, 
 An' a' the auld wives i' the clachan agree, 
 
 That the bairnie tak's after his faither. 
 
 0' the wee ane's complaints he has had his 
 
 full share, — 
 The chin-hoast an' measles, — an* twenty 
 
 things mair, 
 Yet he's stoot an' weel-faured a' the howdies 
 
 declare, 
 Whilk comforts the heart o' his mither, 
 Yet 'mang a' the troubles, an' drawbacks 
 
 sae rife, 
 fie tak's tae the bottle as nat'ral as life, 
 An' aften I smile as I tell the guidwife, 
 That the bairnie tak's after his faither. 
 
 m 
 
 
■' 
 
 91 
 
 Whan the lassies drap in hoo he coo's an' 
 
 he craws, 
 An' glams at their ribbons, their guin- 
 
 tiowers an' braws, 
 Or expresses his joy wi' goo-goos and da-das, 
 
 While the lassie's gufifaw tao ilk-ither, 
 As for me — when I see a' the cuddlin* 
 
 gaun on, 
 I think o' the days afore Kirstie was won, 
 For in a' this curdooin' sae early begun, 
 The bairnie tak's after his faither. 
 
 Yere rattles an' toys he no cares for a preen, 
 Nor dolls — whilk the lasaocks are fond o', I 
 
 ween, 
 But see hoo he'll warstle an' cock up his 
 e'en. 
 Whan I jingle the siller taegitlier ; 
 An' should I a bawbee an' saxpence haud 
 
 oot. 
 He'll grab at the wee-ane withoot ony doot, 
 This auld-farrant weanie ken's what he's 
 aboot. 
 For the bairnie tak's after his faither. 
 
 There's ae thing peculiar tae Scotchmen a' 
 
 ower, 
 They'll unco strong-wulled, an' inclined tae 
 
 be dour, — 
 They winna be driven, dae a' i' yere poo'er, 
 
 Tho' they'll follow withouten a swither. 
 An' young as he is I can see i' the wean. 
 He'll stan' tae his point just as steeve as a 
 
 stare, 
 An' he'll try a' he can tae toddle his lane ; 
 For the bairnie tak's after his faither. 
 
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 1980 
 

 92 
 
 Let us houp as the years come an' gang, he 
 will be, 
 
 Aye lovin' and kind tae his mither an' me ; 
 
 Kor frae the straight road gangin' meikle 
 aglee. 
 Nor wi' dootf u' companions forgather ; 
 
 Aye firmly the wiles o' the warl' tae with- 
 stand, — 
 
 As saft as the doon, yet as gritty as sand. 
 
 An* hand up his heid wi' the best i' the 
 land, 
 For the baimie tak's after his f aither. 
 
 AN AULD SETTLER. 
 
 She left her hame in youth's fair morn, 
 
 An' crossed the boundin' main ; 
 But aft' her heart wad yearn tae roam, 
 
 Hei native hills again ; 
 Tae wander wi' her playmates dear, 
 
 Adoon the bosky dells, 
 Where 'mang the nooks the violets 
 bl^'^med — 
 
 The primrose, an' blue-bells. 
 
 As age crept on, her memory seemed 
 
 Tae Cling tae langsyne days, 
 A.n' she wad tell o' pranks an' ploys, 
 
 Amang the gowany braes : 
 Hoo aft' she climbed the Hard en's hill, 
 
 Or roamed thro' Langton wood, 
 An' waded bare-fit i' the burn 
 
 That thro' the meadow flowed. 
 
 » 
 
93 
 
 She talked wi' pride o' famed Dunse Law^ 
 
 Where stood the Covenant Stane, — 
 Where heroes vowed to do or die 
 
 Their freedom tae maintain : 
 She aft' described the Castle woods, 
 
 The Hen-poo's placid lake ; 
 The spots where geens an' brambles grew 
 
 By glen or tangled brake. 
 
 Hoo aft' tae me she has recalled 
 
 The quiet sylvan scene, 
 By March mont's bonny woods an' braes, 
 
 Or Polwarth-on-the-green : 
 The auld kirk-yard by Lounsdale's haughs, 
 
 The bonny wimplin' burn ; 
 The hills an' howes, the glens an' knowes, 
 
 Tae which her heart wad turn. 
 
 Hoo mony times she wished, ance mair 
 
 Tae tread the heath-clad braes,— 
 Ance mair tae hae a glint o' hame, 
 
 An' there tae end her days ; 
 An' while her heart wad dwell on this, 
 
 An' saut tears dim her e'e, 
 She'd say—" I'm ower auld noo for that, 
 
 Na ! na, it canna be." 
 
 Yet while the lamp held on tae bum, 
 
 An' memory held its sway, 
 Wi' fondest love she aft' recalled 
 
 The auld hame far away ; 
 She gloried in its spotless fame, 
 
 Its fights in freedom's cause,— 
 Its martyr heroes wha laid doon 
 
 Their lives for righteous laws. 
 
94 
 
 Alas ! that wish was ne'er attained — 
 
 Death cut the vital thread ; 
 An' noo beneath the maple boughs 
 She rests amang the dead ; 
 
 But while oor memory aft' recplls 
 
 That humble, honoured name, 
 We'll think o' her in youth renewed. 
 
 In a brighter, fairer hame. 
 
 — o — 
 
 OK THE DEATH OF DAVID KEN- 
 NEDY, THE SCOTTISH VOCALIST. 
 
 Farewell, sweet singer of our Scottish songs. 
 No more thy lilting will our spirits 
 cheer, — 
 Nor tell of Scotia's triumphs «nd her 
 wrongs, 
 To wake the »mile or tear. 
 
 To those in exile, far in other lands. 
 In cold or sunny climes, thy tender 
 lay, 
 Felt like the clasp of warm embracing 
 hands, 
 Of loved ones far away. 
 
 How oft' in listening to some matchless 
 strain, 
 Has fancy round us wove her magic 
 spells, 
 And wafted us to childhood's scenes again, 
 'Mid cowslips and blue-bells. 
 
 » • 
 
Thy martial lays have nerved us for the 
 fight, 
 And made the Scotch blood leap m every 
 
 vein 
 Inspiring in the cause of freedom's right, 
 Our birthright to maintain. 
 
 And then thy melting strains so soft and 
 sweet 
 That told of love in many a humble 
 cot, — 
 Of trysting hours when faithful lovers meet, 
 Or vows too soon forgot. 
 
 Again, with laughter have our hearts been 
 stirred 
 And slumbering echoes of the past 
 
 awoke, — 
 As mimicked action,or some quamt old word, 
 Pointed the .quip or joke. 
 
 How have we hung upon thy varying 
 tones, . , 
 
 And seen new beauties m the poets 
 
 Which told the doughty deeds of Scotia's 
 sons, — 
 Their struggles against wrong. 
 
 Here, where we met and clasped thy kindly 
 hand, 
 We gave thee hearty welcome as a 
 friend,— . i j 
 
 A messenger from that dear distant lana, 
 Which we have left behind. 
 
T 
 
 i . 
 
 96 , 
 
 Now, still the manly heart, and cold the 
 hand, 
 Hushed is the voice of sweet melodious 
 • tone ; 
 
 And Scotia's sons afar in many a land^ 
 Will mourn a brother gone. 
 
 Fitting the end, — when death had dealt the 
 wound. 
 Not darkling through the valley didst 
 thou grope ; 
 Thy weary spirit passed away, attuned 
 To songs of faith and hope. 
 
 — 0— 
 
 MY FAITHER'S FIRESIDE. 
 
 Oh ! the hame of my childhood, hoo can I 
 
 forget 
 The bright scenes that cling to my memory 
 
 yet. 
 
 Thro' lang years o' absence frae jthat 
 chenshed scene, 
 
 Wi' ocean's wide billows careering between ; 
 
 My heart never yet has forgot the bright 
 days 
 
 When as younkers we spoiled up the heather- 
 clad braes — 
 
 Or the sweet hallowed spot where true love 
 did preside. 
 
 In the auld cosy neuk at my faither's 
 fire-side. 
 
 Nae distance or time can ever erase 
 t'rae my heart the gay scenes o' my dear 
 native place, — 
 
^97 
 
 Tke auld thacket cot, wi' tli€ stile in the 
 yaird, . 
 
 The byre ai'. the barn where the poultry 
 werf reared ; 
 
 The bonny thorn trees that grew on the 
 ,?''9en, 
 
 An' the burnie meandering sae crystal an' 
 sheen ; 
 
 But the scene aboon a' that has stood time 
 an' tide, 
 
 Is the auld cosy neuk o' my faither's fire- 
 side. 
 
 Hoo af ten in dreams o' the nicht I am there, 
 An' mingle wi' lang-parted cronies ance 
 
 mair. 
 As there in his auld elbow chair in the neuk, 
 My faither sits readin' some paper or buik ; 
 My mither is mendin' my corduroy breaks, 
 I had torn in some o' my mad spielin' 
 
 freaks, 
 While my ae sister, Aggie, oor suppers pro- 
 vide. 
 Ere sleep reigns ower a' at my faither's fire- 
 side. 
 
 Or again, amid innocent laughter an' din, 
 We callants wad gather oor peeries tae spin^ 
 On the muckle hearth-stane, where the 
 
 dancin' glint, 
 O' the big peat fire, shone on faces content ; 
 Faces frae cares an' griefs mair free, 
 I never hae seen 'mang the prood an' hie, 
 Nor hearts as free frae a' envy an' pride. 
 As gathered langsyne roun' my faither's 
 
 fireside. 
 
98 
 
 On cauld winter nichts, when the wind an' 
 
 rain, 
 Fatterin' fell on the window pane, 
 We hae danced for hours tae the fiddle'» 
 
 strains, 
 Or got in a corner a' oor lanes, 
 Tae tell ower stories, aft' tauld before, 
 O' ghaist an' bogles, an' warlock lore. 
 Or sung the sangs that are Scotia's pride, 
 That sounded sae sweet at my faither's fire- 
 side. 
 
 My faither's auld neebours wad aften pap 
 in. 
 
 Just tae hae a bit crack ower what was gaun 
 on. 
 
 The news or the gossip frae steadin' or 
 toun, 
 
 Gin the craps were thrivin' or markets were 
 doun. 
 
 An' listenin' tae a' as they cracked sae 
 crouse, 
 
 I sat in my corner as quiet's a mouse, 
 
 "Till my e'en nae langer open wad bide, 
 
 An' I dosed sae snug by my faither's fire- 
 side. 
 
 There's no' a scene o' those days o' yore, 
 I'll e'er forget while I'm tae the fore — 
 The dance an' fun at the harvest kirns, 
 The fishin' splores in the muirland burns, 
 Climbin' for scroggs in the auld kirk park. 
 Or playin' at bogley whan nicht grew dark. 
 Or spaein' fortunes as we sat side by side, 
 On oor cutty stools by my faither's fireside. 
 
 I 
 
 
 
' 
 
 99 
 
 Nor hae I ever the lessons forgot, 
 The Bible lessons my faither taught, 
 Or the solemn stillness reigning there, 
 When we read the buik, or we knelt in 
 
 prayer ; 
 E'en noo I remember his solemn words, 
 An' my mither's counsels my heart still 
 
 hoards. 
 As she sought in prayers my young heart tae 
 
 guide 
 An' I knelt at her knee by my faither's 
 
 fireside. 
 
 But those days are gane, an' will ne'er re- 
 turn. 
 Yet oft' wi' sic thochts my heart does burn, 
 As my youthfu' days I live ower again, 
 Forgettin' my manhood's sorrows an' 
 
 pain, — 
 An' oh ! gin I could my wish but hae 
 Tae visit that spot noo far away, 
 I'd joyfully cross ower the foaming tide, 
 Tae spend my last days by my faither's fire- 
 side. 
 
 ~o — 
 
 JEANIE RAY, 
 
 Sweet glides the stream by Fogo braes, 
 Where fairest flow'rets bloom, 
 
 That in the sunny simmer days, 
 The breezes sweet perfume. 
 
\i 
 
 ,i\ 
 
 100 
 
 Nae floweret there does bloom sae £air, 
 
 Nae rose sae fresh and gay 
 As she that blooms by Fogo muir ; 
 
 My bonnie Jeanie Ray. 
 
 Sweet is her smile an' witching grace. 
 
 Her e'en o' bonny blue, 
 The crimson o' her glowing face 
 
 Outvies the rose's hue. 
 
 Her neck is like the driven snaw, 
 
 Her locks are like the slae, 
 That doon the snaw- white bosom fa* 
 
 O' bonny Jeanie Ray. 
 
 Oft' by the trysting tree we meet, 
 
 Doon in the flowery vale, 
 I listen oft' in rapture sweet 
 
 Tae Jeanie's tender tale. 
 
 The scented roses frae the brier. 
 
 The primrose frae the brae 
 I pii'd, to deck the flowing hair 
 
 0' bonnie Jeanie Rae, 
 
 She's gien tae me her youthfu' heart 
 An' vowed she'll aye be true ; 
 
 An' should it be our lot tae part, 
 Nae other will I lo'e. 
 
 But till this throbbing heart shall cease. 
 
 Till life's declinin' day, 
 I'll live in happiness and peace 
 
 \Vi' bonnie Jeanie Rae. 
 
 I 
 
 
 
li 
 
 I 
 
 101 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE SUNSET HOUR. 
 
 When the village bells are chiming 
 
 The approach of twilight's gloom, 
 And the labourer is returning 
 
 To the comforts of his home ; 
 Then, alone, I love to wander, 
 
 Or recline beneath the bov t, 
 Pondering on th > scenes around me, 
 
 At the balmy sunset hour. 
 
 I have wandered at the day-dawn, 
 
 When Aurora's golden beams — 
 Glowing o'er the eastern hill-tops— 
 
 Pearced the mist in fitful gleams. 
 But I feel a haj^pier pleasure. 
 
 Yea ! I love that soothing power. 
 Breathed o'er nature's scenes enchanting 
 
 At the balmy sunset hour. 
 
 I have wandered at the noon-tide, 
 
 When the sun in all its might, 
 Lighted up with fairy grandeur, 
 
 Scenes of charming rich delight. 
 But far fairer were the valleys, 
 
 Sweeter fragrance filled the bower, 
 Gentler blew the genial zephrs 
 
 At the balmy sunset hour. 
 
 At that hour how fair the dew-drops 
 Sparkle o'er the forest glade, 
 
 Sweetly sings the mellow blackbird. 
 Welcoming the twilight's shade ; 
 
' 
 
 102 
 
 Merry laugh the village children, 
 As they cull the wildwood flower, 
 
 Sweetest even is echo's answer 
 At the balmy sunset hour . 
 
 'Tis the hour when faithful lovers 
 
 Seek the fairy-haunted dell ; 
 There, where all is calm and silent, 
 
 Each their joys and sorrows tell. 
 But no cares can there disturb them. 
 
 Grief nor sorrow's withering power ; 
 All is happiness and pleasure 
 
 At the balmy sunset hour. 
 
 Thus I love alone, at even. 
 
 O'er these woodland scenes to rove. 
 When my heart is sad and down-cast, 
 
 F?r pway from her I love. 
 O'er my grief my spirit rises, 
 
 And tho' sorrows clouds may lower, 
 They like morning vapours vanish 
 
 At the balmy sunset hour. 
 
 I 
 
 
 KATIE O' THE MILL. 
 
 Again the sun has sunk to rest^ 
 
 Behind the western plain, 
 When now from weary labour free, 
 
 I wander to the glen ; 
 For there I often pensive rove. 
 
 By Virtue's murmuring rill, 
 To wait the hour when I shall meet 
 
 Sweet Katie o' the Mill, 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 103 
 
 But no glad trysting will this be, 
 
 But sadly we shall meet, 
 The' oft in happy mood we've roamed 
 
 That lovely, calm retreat ; 
 For I must sigh the word ** Farewell ! " 
 
 Tho' sad my heart does thrill, 
 Must leave those scenes I loved so well, 
 
 And Katie o' the Mill. 
 
 Oh ! sad tae think we'll roam nae mair 
 
 The fragrant, flowery dell, 
 Nor list the warblers o' the woods 
 
 Their little love-tales tell : 
 For, ere another sun shall set 
 
 Behind fair Eildon's hill, 
 I'll wander far frae her I love — 
 
 Sweet Katie o' the Mill. 
 
 WELLAND STREAM. 
 
 On Welland banks I loved to stray. 
 When closed the summer's sultry day j 
 When twilight over vale and plain 
 Her sombre curtain drew again ; 
 When by the grove, the glade and hill, 
 The warbler's song was hushed and still ; 
 Where bending flow'rets kissed thy wave^ 
 I loved to list thy limpid lave, 
 
 Sweet Welland Stream. 
 
 There, many hours of sweet delight 
 I've passed, when first the shades of night 
 Came spreading o'er the verdant vale, 
 When balmy winds waft on thy tale ; 
 
104 
 
 There, 'neath an ancient elm, I'd lie, 
 And list thy murmurings bubbling by, 
 Or, slowly, wending by thy side, 
 Where, o'er the vale, thou llowest wide. 
 Sweet Welland Stream. 
 
 But, sweeter far, the hours I strayed, 
 With Mary, lovely, peerless maid ; 
 I thought not then of streams and tides, 
 Nor culled the flow'rets by thy sides ; 
 By mossy bank, where oft' we'd rest, 
 My Mary to my heart I pressed. 
 While all her charms I praised in song. 
 Sweet echo sighed thy groves among, 
 Sweet Welland Stream. 
 
 Glide on, sweet stream, glide on, and tell. 
 Where Mary sleeps in yonder dell ; 
 Tell how she faded in her bloom. 
 Like flower to spring-tide's early tomb : 
 Tell how I wandered lonely here. 
 My clouded heart and spirits drear ; 
 Tell how my sigh and grieving wail 
 Thou wafted on thy twilight gale. 
 
 Sweet Welland Stream. 
 
 Where willows to the night- winds wave, 
 I often muse by Mary's grave. 
 And, often, as the tell-tale breeze. 
 Whispers amid the clustering trees. 
 It bears my joyful message on ; 
 When, with this path of tears, I'm done. 
 Beside thee laid, I'll peaceful dream. 
 While thou shalt sing my requiem. 
 Sweet Welland Stream. 
 
 — 0— 
 
105 
 
 ELLEN 0' THE HA\ 
 
 This warld *mid a' its fairest scenes, 
 
 Has mony a cloud o' care, 
 Tae cast its shadow o'er the heart, 
 
 An' leave a sadness there. 
 But what care I whate'er may come, — 
 
 What troubles me befa', 
 'Tis sunshine aye, while in this heart 
 
 Reigns Ellen o' the Ha'. 
 
 Noo winter cleads the hills wi' snaw, 
 
 An' bares the forest trees. 
 While dreary whistles doon the glen 
 
 The cauld cauld norlan' breeze. 
 But safe frae a' she blossoms fair, 
 
 Whatever storms may blaw, 
 'Tis simmer aye, where'er she be, 
 
 Sweet Ellen o' the ha'. 
 
 An* when auld age comes creepin' on, 
 
 Like e'ening's twilight grey. 
 An' steals the blossom frae her cheek. 
 
 As doon life's hill we gae. 
 Still life will hae its charms for me. 
 
 An' till death's certain ca' 
 I still will share youth's brightest joys 
 
 Wi' Ellen o' the Ha'. 
 
 — — 
 
103 
 
 TflK FLOWER O' THE DYE. 
 
 I<l(>w on, lovely r>ye, thro' the heatlier-clad 
 rn oil n tarn. 
 The wild rocky gorge an' the soft braken 
 
 Thro the wirie spreading hazels that ahadow 
 thy fountain, 
 Then out on the mea«iow raeandering 
 again. 
 For round this fair spot linger fond recol> 
 lectiona 
 That now bring the tear drop o' joy to 
 my eye. 
 Aa ance mair by the scenes o' my yontiifiil 
 aifet^tiona 
 I roam wi' my Jeanie, the Flower o^ the 
 Dye. 
 
 Oh ! well I remem.her the spv^'^a now juround 
 me 
 Where ott' I hae sported in innocent 
 glee*— 
 No scenes o' the land where matnrer years 
 found me 
 Can ever compare, homeo' diildhood^ with 
 thee. 
 Kor can e*en the faLD^t o these soathem 
 bowers* 
 Tho' blooming in peace ''neath a bar 
 cludiess :jky» 
 Compare wi' my iin conn try 5 mountain- 
 rear^ dowers. 
 Far lose* mi uij am peerless Flower 0' the 
 
■r 
 
 
 107 
 
 Oh ! my Jeanie is fair as the sun in his 
 glory, 
 As rising he smiles o'er the Dew -sprinkled 
 scene, — 
 A" the primrose that blooms 'neath the 
 birch spreading hoary, 
 Sae modestly blooming's my ain lovely 
 Jean. 
 Then how could my heart but be dowie an' 
 drearie, 
 As here we last wandered tae weep our 
 good-bye. 
 It seemed as if never again wi' my dearie 
 I'd visit these scenes on the banks o' the 
 Dye. 
 
 Now happy am I in thy bosom, my dearie, 
 Nae visions o' grandeur shall wile me f rae 
 thee. 
 Thro' sunshine and shade thy sweet pre- 
 sence shall cheer me, 
 Tho' rough the life-path o' oor pilgrimage 
 be. 
 When the twilight o' life sees thy locks get- 
 ting hoary. 
 Steals the rose frae thy cheek, and the 
 fire frae thine eye ; 
 Still, memory, delighted, shall cherish the 
 story 
 0' our youth's cludless hours on the banks 
 o' the Dye. 
 
 
!t 
 
 108 
 LANGTON WATER. 
 
 Green are thy banks, thou bonny stream, 
 That windest sweet by wood and field. 
 Where summer's flow'rets blooming sweet, 
 
 Their fragrance to the zephyrs yield. 
 Thy scenes are ever fair and bright, 
 
 'Neath springtide's smile, or summer's 
 glow, 
 When with rich autumn's bounty crowned, 
 Or winter's snow. 
 
 Far up amid the heathery hills, 
 
 There, murmur first thy tiny rills ; 
 Then, flowing on through mead and dell, 
 
 The burnies meet, 
 With many a gurgling rippling swell. 
 
 In a calm and fair retreat. 
 
 Now thro' the deep and craggy glen ; 
 
 Now sleeping 'neath the hazel's 
 shade, — 
 Now rushing on thy course again 
 Making the valleys echoes roar 
 As o'er the lynn thy waters pour ; 
 Now calm and peaceful as before 
 
 On tliro' the silent glade. 
 
 Thy course is marked by many a scene, 
 
 Rugged, yet fair and bright, 
 Where titfu' thro' thy leafy screen. 
 The sun's refreshing rays are seen 
 
 Or Luna's silvery light. 
 
 ii 
 
109 
 
 Where hanging in thy rugged steeps, 
 
 The honeysuckle blooms, 
 And the trailing ivy creeps 
 
 Where the sunshine never comes. 
 
 Where the cowslip and the fair primrose 
 
 Lift up their modest heads, 
 And fling their fragrance all around. 
 When hushed is every sound, 
 
 As they catch the dewdrops' pearly beads 
 When day draws to its close. 
 
 When first Aurora's golden beams ; 
 O'er the eastern hilltops stream ; 
 
 Then sweet the forest warblers sing 
 Their happy songs of love 
 Which echo thro' the grove, 
 
 Till woods and valleys ring. • 
 
 Oh ! how I love to roam along 
 
 By many a sylvan scene, 
 And listen to thy song, — 
 As oft in days of yore, 
 I wandered on thy pebbled shore, 
 
 And happy was I ween, 
 But now sad are the thoughts that rise 
 And oft the tear drops fill my eyes. 
 As thou recalsfc the days gone by 
 When gayest of the gay was I. 
 
 Oft' with the loved of childhood's days, 
 I've sported on thy gowany braes ; 
 Thy richest spots full well we knew — 
 The copse where the wild apples grew 
 
 m 
 
no 
 
 And where the hazels hung, 
 Down o'er the deep and craggy rock, 
 Where oft the echoes were awoke, 
 By ringing laugh of mirth and joy, 
 From many a fair and happy boy, 
 
 The clustering boughs among. 
 
 Oft' too, weVe gone a nesting there. 
 For we knew each shady nook 
 And slaethorn bower, 
 Where the linnets lo\ jd their young to 
 rear, — 
 Where they loved to lave in the limpid 
 brook, 
 At the sultry noontide hour,— 
 WeVe watched the bee on the opening 
 flower, 
 And oft' in merry chase, 
 We've run o'er the glade for many an hour 
 Chacing the gaudy butterflies, 
 To us a rich and wonderous prize, 
 'Till o'er each happy face 
 The rosy glow of health was spread. 
 And home again we sped. 
 
 There, too, I've often happy been, 
 
 When, with the maid Iloved, 
 
 By thy sweet banks we roved 
 In some sequestered scene, 
 
 Away from all the vexing cares 
 
 Which marked my growing years. 
 
 But, ah ! where is that maiden now ? 
 
 By thee, sweet stream, 
 She lieth low, 
 
 mm 
 
 m^i 
 
Ill 
 
 No more her smiles, like sunshine's glow 
 
 Shall play around her brow ; 
 
 No more her dazzling eyes shall beam, 
 Or evening's balmy air 
 Dance 'mid her golden hair. 
 
 She sleeps, and on thou murmurest still ; 
 
 And thus I love to wander here, 
 To listen to thy purling rill, 
 As if her voice still met my ear, 
 And bade my drooping spirits cheer 
 With visions of a coming joy ; 
 When all my wanderings o'er, 
 I'll fly to yon bright peaceful shore 
 Where to the loved ones gone before, 
 Sorrow and sighing come.no more. 
 
 And tears no more shall dim the eye, 
 For there at last 
 All griefs of earth are past. 
 
 But, lovely stream, still here I'll rove, 
 And list the songsters of the grove ; 
 Here at the opening dawn I'll come, 
 Here at the eventide I'll roam, 
 
 While sweetly thou shalt gurgle on ; 
 And tho' thou dost remind ma still 
 
 Of ioys for ever gone, 
 '' ^ Yet will 
 I love thee, peaceful murmuring rill. 
 
 — — 
 THE WANING YEAR. 
 
 Swiftly to its close, 
 The old year goes, 
 And nought that we can do its step retard, 
 
I 1 
 
 112 
 
 Still it, with many a groan, 
 With struggle, sigh and moan, 
 'Mid life's last ebbing throes, 
 Dies hard. 
 
 Oh ! it hath seen sad sights, 
 
 This fading year, — 
 Brought many woeful plights 
 
 To nations and to men, 
 Bloodshed and war to some, 
 And blackest gloom : 
 To others woe and fear, 
 A prospect drear 
 Of want and misery. 
 Sad heart and teai^ul eye 
 That we 
 
 Hope ne'er to see 
 Again. 
 
 And it hath had bright days, 
 And sunny skies o'erhead ; 
 Full many a mother gave to heaven 
 Her heartfelt praise ; 
 
 While on her lowly bed, — 
 When, pain and travail past 
 She gazed with joy at last 
 Upon the lovely child kind Providence had 
 given. 
 
 And marriage bells have pealed 
 
 A merry peal, 
 As in the solemn church 
 The holy man of God, 
 Spoke of the pledges sealed 
 
 In Heaven— exhorts them to fulfil 
 
113 
 
 Each unto each the vows they take ; 
 
 Then to their new abode, 
 The prancing steeds soon whirl them away, 
 
 And anxious crowds around the porch 
 Wish life and love for the young couple's 
 
 sake, 
 And all seems glad and gay. 
 
 But let the curtain fall 
 
 Upon the woes of war. 
 And awful waste of life that did appal 
 
 The world both near and far, 
 And let us pray that, in the coming year, 
 
 No tear 
 May fall upon a murdered victim's bier. 
 
 But over all the earth 
 Peace and good will to man will reign ; 
 
 As from out the ark of hope goes forth. 
 With olive branch, the peaceful dove, 
 Proclaiming heaven's love 
 
 To fallen man ; 
 Pointing to gloomy wrecks of days gone 
 
 t>y,— 
 Warning of guilt's undying misery. 
 And leading to the cross of Calvary 
 All nations, slave and free, 
 A Saviour's all atoning death to see. 
 
 Thus would the coming year, 
 Witness alone, contrition's hopeful tear. 
 And the "good time" by sages often 
 
 sung 
 With poesy's sweet tongue, 
 ^ome with the infant year's bright smile. 
 When all our flickering hopes and fears. 
 
114 
 
 And anxious toil, 
 Would dissipate before the genial ray, 
 Of a millennial day. 
 
 Alone I sit and dream 
 Upon this solemn theme ; 
 The passing moments, with a sigh, 
 
 Rush swiftly by ; 
 Around me all is darkness and repose^ 
 As to the year's sad close, 
 The clock with warning finger points. 
 
 And wisely hints 
 Of that time when my little year shall 
 
 cease 
 Exhorting me to make with heaven my 
 peace, 
 
 That so, 
 A", hen parting from this weary world below, 
 
 Hope's bright illumined star, 
 May lead my thoughts from Time's sad 
 scenes of woe 
 
 And through the valley's gather- 
 ing gloom 
 
 Guide on and up afar 
 To an unfading home. 
 
 — -o — 
 
 NAE MAIR. 
 
 Slowly and sadly the muffled bell, 
 Rings oot a b jlemn funeral knell. 
 
 On the bitin' winter air, 
 A mournfu' dirge for the loved and gane. 
 While the funeral march, wi' its sad refrain, 
 Tells o' ane wha will march again 
 
 Nae mair. 
 
I 
 
 115 
 
 Slowly the crowd o' mourners go, 
 
 Thro' the eager air and the drivin' snow, 
 
 Tae the kirk-yaird bleak an' bare, 
 Where the elm tree points wi' boney arms, 
 Tae the joyless river an' dreary farms, 
 Ower ane wha'U hail spring's buddin' charms 
 
 Nae mair. 
 
 He is laid tae rest, the salute is fired, 
 The train o' mourners hae a' retired, 
 
 While the band, wi' lively air. 
 Wakens the echoes frae grove an' plain, 
 Whilk silently listened the funeral strain ; 
 But, gay or sad, he will listen again 
 
 Nae mair. 
 
 Cauld in death is his kindly heart. 
 Silent his tongue • frae street an' mart, 
 
 His f rien's will miss him sair, 
 But as the years roll swiftly by. 
 We'll lo'e the spot where his ashes lie, 
 While his name shall fade frae oor memory, 
 
 Nae mair. 
 
 The nicht is sad wi' the widow's wail. 
 An' infant fears are soothed wi' the tale — 
 (A light 'mid the dark despair,) 
 If faither comes not, they'll go tae him, 
 Where their cup o' joy will be fu' to the 
 
 brim — 
 Where hearts are sad, and eyes grow dim 
 Nae mair. 
 
 — o 
 
ri 
 
 116 
 
 UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 TJnder the snow, the stainless snow, 
 Which falls so lightly o'er hill and glade, 
 Calmly at rest, 
 Inthe earth's cold breast, 
 A darling brother's laid. 
 Just as the flowers 
 In the autumn bowers, 
 Fell neath the winter's blasting breath, 
 He passed away 
 Into glorious day 
 Which knows no night, no death. 
 
 Under the snow, the spotless snow, 
 From the loved who mourn his early fate, 
 Yet calm in the joy 
 That their darling boy. 
 Has passed the pearly gate. 
 Amid the gloom 
 Which wreaths his tomb 
 
 The star of faith shij js bright and cloar, 
 And beckons us on 
 To the loved ones gone ; 
 
 From the grief which rankles here. 
 
 Under the snow, the winter's snow, 
 With the flowers that decked the verdant 
 plain. 
 
 To rest awhile 
 Till the summer's smile, 
 Calls them to life again, 
 
 Culled from earth's scene 
 To the fadeless green 
 Where the river of life flows ever on. 
 
 
T 
 
 117 
 
 To bask for aye 
 In the cloudless day, 
 Our darling one has gone. 
 
 Under the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 Which beams in the jun like a thousand 
 gems, 
 But gone to the fold 
 'Mid the streets of gold, 
 And the crown of diadems. 
 
 Oh ! happy the thought 
 Of l^s soul blood bought 
 Into the fold of the King of Kin gs. 
 Joining the song 
 Of the ransomed throng, 
 Ad he mounts on angel wings. 
 
 -0— 
 
 PENNY'S BRAE. 
 
 'Mang a' the scenes where in my youth, 
 
 I wandered free o' care. 
 At morning's dawn, or sunset hour, 
 
 Tae snuff the cauler air ; 
 There's ae scene o' the langsyne days. 
 
 Still ower my hearts bauds sway — 
 The shady paths, an' quiet neuks 
 
 Alang by Penny's Brae. 
 
 'Twas there my young friend, Rab an' I, 
 First sang oor sangs taegither, 
 
 Or lay beneath some spreadin' tree 
 In sultry simmer weather ; 
 
118 
 
 We little thocht that frae such scenes 
 
 We'd wander far away, 
 Tae cherish but the memories o' 
 
 Oor nichts by Penny's Brae. 
 
 There aft' when wandering alane ; 
 
 When simmer days were fair, 
 I used tae meet my shopmate Bob, 
 
 An' kenn'd what brocht him there ; 
 For in some quiet gloaming hour, 
 
 He'd meet sweet Betty Gray — 
 Their favourite trysts on Sunday nichts 
 
 Was doon by Penny's Brae. 
 
 Still as my memory wanders back, 
 
 I seek that scene again, 
 Tae meet beneath the trysting tree 
 
 My first fond sweetheart, Jane ; 
 I seem tae press her hand again, 
 
 An' vow I'll ne'er betray. 
 The trustin' heart she plighted me 
 
 Lanysyne by Penny's Brae. 
 
 An' now while I, a stranger, roam, 
 
 O'er many a foreign part, 
 Some ither may have woo'd an' won 
 
 Her young an' trustin' heart ; 
 Tho' such may be, I'll ne'er forget 
 
 Until my dying day, 
 The memories o' the happy hoiTS, 
 
 I spent by Penny's Brae. 
 
 — — 
 
 ^^■^'■^-""■"mii'iii iin irtiiiri wm" in 
 
wm^ 
 
 119 
 ^^SHOUTHER TAE SHOUTHER." 
 
 (Addressed to the St. Andrew's Society of Memphis, 
 Tenn ., during the yellow-fever scourge .) 
 
 When oor f oref aithers f oucht by land or by 
 
 Preparedfortheirrichtsaye tae door tae dee, 
 
 'Twas then that they made their prood foe- 
 men to feel, _ u 1 ^ 
 
 In vain was their charge 'gainst a phalanx 
 o' steel * 
 
 Or as forward^they sprang at their chief- 
 tain's word, ., ., , i. 
 
 Dealing death at each blow wi' the bayonet 
 an' sword, > r f 
 
 As they fell dead or wounded, an tront 
 
 ranks were thinned, , , • j 
 
 Stillcloserpressedforwardtheheroesbehma, 
 
 ** Shouther tae Shouther. 
 When the enemy force's came sweeping 
 
 along, , , 1. > 
 
 Wi' the waU an' the dirge, for the lauch an 
 
 the sang ; 
 When thousands were f a'ing like leaves in 
 
 the blast , 
 
 Leavingsairdesolationwherevertheypassed,^ 
 
 A brave band o' Scots like their f aither s o 
 
 Stood iirm tae their posts for the nameless 
 an' poor, ., 
 
 They flinched nae tho' ithers were weak wi 
 despair ; , i. xv. * 
 
 Tlio' death's shafts micht reach them, their 
 duty was there, 
 ** Shouther tae SLouther. 
 
:| 
 
 120 
 
 i« 
 
 Where'er in the land o' the stranger are 
 
 met, 
 The sons o' auld Scotia— they're brithren 
 
 yet; 
 They're prood o' the fact that they're clan- 
 
 nich an' leal^ 
 An' hae aye a true heart for poortith tae 
 
 feel— 
 Their love hasna dimmed for their hame 
 
 o'er the sea, 
 The land o' the heather, the land o' the 
 
 free, 
 That the honour o' Scotland may ne'er bear 
 
 a blot, 
 Is the heart-wish o' every true loyal brither 
 
 Scot, 
 ** Shouther tae Shouther." 
 
 This life's a sair fecht 'mid its poortith an' 
 pain. 
 
 But the wail o' the sad, Scotchmen hear nas 
 in vain. 
 
 An' they wha wi' plenty or little are blessed. 
 
 Are ready, aye ready, tae help the dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 Gk> bravely on, brithers, the scourge now 
 has passed, 
 
 An' the prayer o' the stricken is answered 
 at last, 
 
 An' should in the future new troubles ap- 
 pear. 
 
 Ye can aye count on help frae yere brithren 
 here. 
 " Shouther tae Shouther." 
 
 . ,- VK#»-*«MW»-H»4|»*W 
 
121 
 
 ALL FOR HER 1 
 
 (A. Scene from " A Tale of Two Cities.") 
 
 He sat alone and listened within the prison 
 cell, 
 But only sounds of clashing doors or 
 footsteps passing on 
 Fell on his ear, until the clock rung out its 
 dismal knell : 
 Then sounds of opening doors were 
 heard, and finally his own. 
 A gaoler with a list in hand looked in, and 
 merely said, 
 "Follow me, Evremonde." He went, 
 and, through the shadows dim. 
 He saw men standing there erect, and some 
 with drooping head, 
 Silent or mourning for the fate they were 
 to meet with him. 
 
 And as he stood among the throng, a girlish 
 form drew near 
 And, touching him, said, ** Citizen, from 
 ja;uilt, my soul is free ; 
 Heaven bear me witness to the truth. — 
 From me, what could they fear ? 
 i'or who would think of plotting with a 
 poor weak thing like me ! 
 I*m not unwilling nor afraid to meet this 
 awful death, 
 If the Republic and the poor will profit 
 by my blood. 
 
■^■'•■W^ 
 
 122 
 
 Let your brave hand sustain me until my 
 latest breath. " 
 " Yes, my dear sister,'* he replied ;" and, 
 hand in hand, they stood. 
 
 As through the streets the tumbrils go, 
 with guards on every side, 
 Holding her hand and comforting this 
 child of tender years ; 
 While surging crowds along the streets the 
 prisoners deride, 
 Deaf to their cries, he kindly speaks to 
 calm her anxious fears. 
 Upon the church-steps, waiting the coming 
 of the carts, 
 fhe spy appears, and, vulture -like, he 
 gloats upon his prey. 
 " Down, Evremonde !" the cry is raised ; 
 the pris'ner faintly starts ; 
 But; at the cry, he only looks, and passes 
 on his way. 
 
 All robed, and ready for their work, beside 
 the guillotine, 
 The ministers of blood appear — when, 
 crash ! the deed is done ; 
 And knitting women, where they sit, scarce 
 heed the ghastly scene ; 
 But, for a moment, lift their eyes, and 
 carelessly count " one.** 
 The empty tumbrils move away ; again that 
 dreadful crash ! 
 And, never pausing in their work, the 
 knitters count out " two.** 
 
123 
 
 While swift descends that murderous knife, 
 with ever gleaming flash, 
 And bloody heads are held aloft, the jest- 
 ing crowd to view. 
 
 Amid the waiting victims there, this man 
 and maiden stand. 
 And from her sight he seeks to hide the 
 instrument of blood ; 
 With words of comfort, still he cheers, and 
 holds her patient hand 
 Until her beating heart is stilled— her 
 trembling fears subdued. 
 Unselfishly she speaks to him, *' Ah ! it is 
 better 'SO • 
 The only friends I leave behind should 
 never know my fate ;" 
 And asks him if in that bright land to 
 which she now must go, 
 Before she meets those cherished ones, 
 she will have long to wait 1 
 
 One kiss,-~the words "You comfort me,"— 
 the moment now has come, 
 With sweet bright smile of constancy 
 upon her patient face ; 
 One moment, and those trembling lips are 
 now for ever dumb, » - .., 
 
 And with the whispered words of faith, 
 he calmly takes her place. 
 The knitting women, counting Btill, have 
 muttered '* twenty-three," 
 And then the murmur of the crowd in 
 silence dies away, 
 
^ 
 
 124 
 
 Like one great heave of water upon a 
 stormy sea, 
 The bloody festival is o'er which marked 
 that fatal day. 
 
 -o- 
 
 MEET ME IN THE BOWER. 
 
 O'er Eildon's hill the setting sun 
 
 Pours forth its dying ray, 
 And paints each scene in golden hues, 
 
 By mead and flowery brae. 
 And in the vale the frao;rant dew 
 
 Perfumes each blooming flower ; 
 Then haste to me, Eliza, dear, 
 
 And meet me in the bower. 
 
 I've twined for thee a shady bower 
 
 Where yonder streamlet flows. 
 And decked it with the ivy green 
 
 And many a blooming rose. 
 I'll twine for thee a garland fair, 
 
 And cull each fragrant flower ; 
 Then haste to me, Eliza, dear, 
 
 And meet me in the bower. 
 
 O'er hill and dale, by stream and grove. 
 
 All nature's gone to rest ; 
 Then, come ! I wait for thee, my love, 
 
 To fold thee to my breast. 
 I long to see thy loving smile, 
 
 And feel its charming power ; 
 Then haste to me, Eliza, dear, 
 
 And meet me in the bower. 
 
125 
 
 
 Oh ! happy are we when we meet, 
 
 No tears, no heaving sigh, 
 But round our path 'tis joy and lo^e, 
 
 Above, a radiant sky. 
 Should, o'er our youthful, loving hearts, 
 
 Distress and soitow lower, 
 It cheers our hearts whene'er we meet. 
 
 By Lounsdale's fragrant bower. 
 
 — o — 
 THE MAID O' COTHILL. 
 
 Oh ! far frae my hame and my country I 
 wander, 
 Frae the wild heathy valleys and moss 
 covered rill, 
 Where oft I delighted tae gaze on their 
 grandeur. 
 Or roam wi' my lover, the maid o' Cothill, 
 
 But tho' from my dearly loved land I did 
 sever, 
 These scenes of my childhood are dear tae 
 me still ; 
 But dearer tae me is my true-hearted lover, 
 My sweet smiling dearie, the maid o' 
 Oothill. 
 
 For now though I see nae the smiles o' my 
 dearie, 
 The thought o' that loved one my bosom 
 does thrill. 
 And cheers my sad heart, when a' lonely 
 and weary, 
 I long tae be back tae the maid o' Cothill. 
 
126 
 
 But I soon will return tae thy bosom, my 
 lover, 
 The vows which I pledged thee, 1*11 truly 
 fulfil, 
 Nae mair frae my hame and my country tae 
 sever, 
 But love and protect the fair maid o* Cot- 
 hill. 
 
 WHEN THE SUMMER BUDS UN 
 
 FOLD. 
 Music by G. E. Kemp. 
 
 When the summer buds unfold, 
 
 To the wooing summer sun. 
 And the charm of wood and wold. 
 
 Tells that winter's course is run ; 
 When a gladsome smile is spread. 
 
 Over nature's beaming face ; 
 Shall the hopes we deemed as fled 
 
 Bloom again with sweeter grace. 
 
 When the doves are gently cooing, 
 When the birds begin their wooing, 
 What should we, my love, be doing ? 
 When the summer buds unfold. 
 
 When the summer buds unfold, 
 And the flow 'rets deck the vale. 
 
 We will whisper as of old, 
 
 Love's enchanting oft' told tale ; 
 
 •^%{^i^!!!^-jJ:MjJ'^^^ ' 
 
 li j i npnii ii fj I , 
 
 mm 
 
127 
 
 And our hearts will feel the glow, 
 Of our childhood's sunny hours, 
 
 As when balmy zeph3rrs blow, 
 
 'Mid the fragrant blooming flowers. 
 
 When the doves are g^ently cooing, &c. 
 
 When the summer buds unf-^ld, 
 
 'Neath the sunshine and the rain, 
 All our hopes, once seared and cold, 
 
 Will revive to bloom again ; 
 And tho' winter's blight may come, 
 
 And the flowers may droop and die, 
 Love's bright beams will light our home. 
 
 With a pure and lasting joy. 
 
 When the doves are gently cooing, &c. 
 — o — 
 GAVINTON GREEN. 
 
 How pleasant tae wander by Langton's fair 
 
 woods. 
 By the green birken bowers, and their pure 
 
 rippling floods, 
 When the dew o' the mornin' on each flow'- 
 
 ret hings, 
 When hill-top and valley wi' melody rings. 
 Oh ! then wi' my Jeanie sae gaily I stray, 
 And pluck her the wild flowers that bloom 
 
 o'er the brae. 
 Or blythesomely meet in the gloamin* at 
 
 e'en. 
 When lightly she trips o'er frae Gavinton 
 
 Green. 
 
128 
 
 In the calm anmmer e'eninga before the 
 
 sunset) 
 Before e'en the flowers with the night-dews 
 
 are wet, 
 Away then I haste tae the anld birken tree 
 Where Jeanie sae faithfu' is waiting for 
 
 me; 
 While there we together will wander the 
 
 glen 
 Till Phoebus has sunk in the westward, and 
 
 then 
 I'll row in my plaidie my ain bonnie Jean, 
 And hie wi' my lover tae Gavinton Green. 
 
 Oh ! my Jeanie is handsome, she's modest 
 
 and meek, 
 Like the fair blushing rose is the glow on 
 
 her cheek, 
 And doon o'er her breast like the snaw-drap 
 
 sae fair, 
 Hangs in loose flowing ringlets her bright 
 
 auburn hair. 
 Her sweet smile enchants me whenever she's 
 
 near, 
 And her voice like sweet music sounds soft 
 
 on my ear ; 
 Oh ! there's nane can compare wi' my ain 
 
 bonnie Jean, 
 She's the pride o' the village on Gavinton 
 
 Green. 
 
 
 Viv-i- 
 
 
 And oh ! 'tis a treasure my Jeanie's true 
 
 heart. 
 For she's vowed she'll be mine, and will 
 ne'er frae me part ; 
 
And dearest ! when wedded, oh ! happy wVU 
 
 be, 
 For my hopes and my joys are a* centred in 
 
 thee. 
 We carena for wealth, and tho' poor be our 
 
 lot, 
 Yet love's cheering rays shall aye shine in 
 
 our cot, 
 Where blythe and contented frae morning 
 
 till e'en ^ 
 
 I will love thee, fair Jeanie, on Gavinton 
 
 Green. 
 
 WAIT A- WEE, AN' DINNA WF.ARY. 
 
 Wait a- wee, an' dinna weary, 
 
 Tho' your heart be sad an' sair, 
 An' your youthfu' dreams hae vanished, 
 
 Leavin' nocht but grief an' care ; 
 Tho' the cluds be dark an' lowerin'— 
 
 Faded flowers lie 'neath tlie snaw. 
 Simmer suns wi' hricht hopes laden, 
 
 Sane the mists will clear fM^\ 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinn9 weary .^ 
 Tho' the winter's lang and dreary,^ 
 Simmer days will come tae ^h/ser ye, 
 Gin ye'll only wait a-wee. 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinna weary, 
 Tho' ye're maybe crossed in Iofo, 
 
 An' your springh.ood's hojpcj lie withered, 
 Time will yet your carea ttemov^ ; 
 
180 
 
 Tho' the joys that langsyne perished^ 
 Left a wound baith deep and pair. 
 
 Maybe some true heart has cherished, 
 Love for you, deep an' sincere. 
 
 • 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinna weary, &c. 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinna weary, 
 
 There are ithers sad an' wae ; — 
 Sufferin' puir wi' heavy burthens, 
 
 Strugglin' 'gainst adversity : 
 For awhile forget your sorrows, 
 
 Sune a' cankerin' cares will flee. 
 Gin ye'U sooth the broken hearted — 
 
 Wipe the tear frae purtith's e'e. 
 
 Wait a-wee, an' dinna weary, «&c. 
 
 — 0— 
 
 " EASTERN'S E'EN. 
 
 » 
 
 'Mang the memories o' the langsyne days, 
 O'er which my fancy af ten strays ; 
 That waft me back to the gowany braes. 
 
 An ilka lang-left scene, 
 I fondly lo'e that scene o' a'. 
 When lads frae cottage an' frae ha' 
 Met ilka year tae play the ba', 
 
 An' baud their Eastern's E'en. 
 
 My puir auld heart will aften thrill, 
 'Wi' youth's bricht recollections still ; 
 O* hoo we played 'tween kirk and mill 
 Till the last prize was gi'en : — 
 
131 
 
 Hoo lads wi' neebour lads wad meet, 
 Tae spier for news, tae crick, an' treat ; 
 An' hoo blythe lassies tae wad greet, 
 The sports o' B'astern's E'en. 
 
 Even noo, my fancy still can trace, 
 
 The crowd that thranged the market place. 
 
 Where joy was seen in ilka face — 
 
 Baith auld and young, I ween, , 
 For frail auld bodies then wad meet, 
 Tae crack at corners o' the street, — 
 An' drouthy cronies tae, wad weet 
 
 Their gabs at Fastern's E'en. 
 
 The ba'-men, an' the fiddler loon, 
 Play " Never let the Gregor doon,'* 
 'Till ilk shopkeeper in the toon 
 
 His croon or shillin's gien ; 
 An' ere the sport at noon's begun. 
 The prentice lads close up like fun, 
 Prepared tae scramble, jouk, an* run, 
 
 For the sports o' Fastern's E'en. 
 
 The laird comes doon frae his castle ha', 
 Wi' leddies tae sae busk an' braw. 
 For he's aye the first tae toss the ba*, 
 
 An' mak' the sport begin ; 
 The fiddler then, an' ba'-men chiels, 
 Play round the toun-house, lichtsome reeU| 
 Wi' callants slioutin* at their heels. 
 
 For the fun o' Fastern's E'en. 
 
 Then frae before the toun-house staps, 
 'Mid shouts, an' tossing up o' caps, 
 The gowden ba' first upward pops 
 
 An' ower their heads does spin ; 
 
182 
 
 In earneet then beginB the play, 
 
 While back and fore they stragglin' sway. 
 
 An' lasses cheer and shout hooray I 
 
 For the sports o* Eastern's E'en. 
 
 Then comes the wrestling an' the sport, 
 'Mid yells an' cries o' every sort, — 
 The race pell-mell up lane and court, 
 
 The like was never seen ; 
 f hey toss an' tumble, squeeze an^ tear, 
 While hats and bonnets skim the air, — 
 Nae fun at country hiring fair 
 
 Beats this at Fastern's E'en. 
 
 The married men, the ba' maun hail, 
 By ringin' wi't the auld kirk bell, 
 While single chaps rin for the mill 
 
 Tae thraw't the happer in, 
 Sae there the wily lads keep guard 
 By yett an' dyke o' the auld kirk-yaird, 
 To win the laurels there prepared, 
 
 For the fun o' Fastern's E'en. 
 
 Then here a squad of country lads, 
 Hae cast awa' their cumbrous duds, 
 Ready for ditches, slaps or wuda 
 
 An' for the mill tae rin, 
 They stick at neither bums nor stiles, 
 dae lang's they win the lassies' smiles, — 
 Nae money's prize for them has wiles. 
 
 Like this at Fastern's E'en. 
 
 An' sae the fun's kept up until. 
 The last ba's hailed at kirk or mill, 
 An' ilka ane has got his fill, 
 
 0' that day's snort, I ween ; 
 
138 
 
 Then tae their hames at toun or stead, 
 The lads an' laasies hameward speed, 
 nk' Jock an' Jeanie as agreed 
 
 Lang ere this Fastem's E'en. 
 
 An' then the ba'men wi' their Men's, 
 Adjourn tae some ane o' the inns, — 
 Where langsyne yarns the landlord spins 
 
 O' what he's dune an' seen ; 
 An' when the noise and din hae ceased. 
 Then pork an' dumplin's crown the feast, 
 Washed doon wi' toddy o' the best. 
 
 To wind up Fastern's E'en. 
 
 — — 
 
 FIRST LOVE. 
 
 How can I but be sad at times 
 
 When all around is happiness, 
 While listening to the village chimes 
 
 Reminding me of bygone bliss ; 
 As often, at the twilight hour, 
 
 It called me to the silent dell 
 To meet beneath the try sting bower 
 
 My own, my lovely Isabel. 
 
 But ah ' alas ! they fcell me now 
 
 That I must wander there alone — 
 Beneath affliction's stroke I bow ; 
 
 My true one to the grave has gone. 
 They breathe a sadness o'er my heart - 
 
 A cadence like departing knell, 
 Still torturing the bitter smart 
 
 "'^hat bleeds afresh for Isabel. 
 
 aft 
 
134 
 
 She was the first on whose sweet charms 
 
 My youthful heart's lond hopew were fed^ 
 Her heart the shrine where zealously 
 
 My wealth of love was offered, 
 But 'tis in vain again to seek 
 
 To feel once more that witching spell ; 
 My faded hopes lie buried there 
 
 Beneath the sod with Isabel. 
 
 ROBBIE BURNS. 
 
 (Written for a Caledonian Society 
 Gathering.) 
 
 While gathered here frae a* the airts, 
 Wr mirth an' sang tae cheer oor hearts, 
 Ae name, 'boon a, a lowe impairts 
 
 Tae Scottish veins ; 
 He wha auld Scotia's fame asserts 
 
 In Doric strains. 
 
 Dear Ploughman Bard, wha's meteor flight 
 Gleamed but a span, then sank in nicht ; 
 Yet left ahint a glamour bricht, 
 
 O' sang sublime. 
 An' gilded wi' poetic licht 
 
 The stream o' time. 
 
 Thy name an' fame become mair dear, 
 As time rows roun' the circling year, — 
 An' Scotia's aonsy bairns, where'er 
 
 They may forgather, 
 Delichted, list thy lilts tae hear 
 
 Frae anc anither. 
 
135 
 
 In youthfu' hearts, thy love strains sweet 
 Gars the warm bluid aye faster beat, 
 At gloaniin' hour when lovers meet 
 
 O' simmer days, 
 An' " sighs an' vows " again repeat, 
 
 By *' banks and braes." 
 
 Still, patriot hearts are nerved for war, < 
 Whan lowei*s the thunder-clud afar, 
 An' Scottish heroes dae an' daur 
 
 As in the past ; 
 Nae coward hearts thy fame shall mar. 
 
 In "war's rude blast." 
 
 Thy thunder-blasts, langsyne, sent forth 
 Against the pride o' rank or birth, 
 Still j&nds an echo o'er the earth, 
 
 In ilka Ian', 
 An' proves, wi' honest, Stirling worth, 
 
 ''A man's a man.** 
 
 Where crawling hypocrites are rife, 
 Smooth o' the tongue, yet vile o' life. 
 Thy satire pierces like a knife 
 
 In flesh an' bluid, 
 An' bares the root o' cantin' strife, 
 
 r *' the unco guid.' 
 
 But piety, wharever pure, 
 
 Ye noted 'mang the simple puir,— 
 
 An' pictured i' the reading hour. 
 
 In cottar's hame, 
 Warm love for Him wha did endure. 
 
 The cross an' shame. 
 
 ,^=SL_ -Jt*- 
 
136 
 
 An' sympathy thou didna lack 
 
 Where stern oppression bowed the back ; 
 
 For serf or slave — or white or black. 
 
 Thy heart did yearn, 
 An' curst the tyrant wha could mak', 
 
 *' A brither mourn." 
 
 Aye, e'en thy sympathy went oot, 
 
 Tae puir dumb creatures— bird an' brute, 
 
 Nor heard their suffering cry withoot, 
 
 A pang o' grief — 
 An' ever watchfu' kindly thou' t 
 
 Tae gie relief. 
 
 Thou had'st thy fauts — an' wha is there, 
 Wad hae his inmost thochts laid bare, 
 Or show his words an' actions square, — 
 
 Sic saint, alane, 
 Daur ought against thy fame declare 
 
 Or cast a stane. 
 
 Na, Rabbie, had ye been a saint, 
 Withoot a flaw — or sin's mirk taint, 
 I fear me, we'd hae looked asklent, 
 
 Tae hear ye rave ; 
 Ye're words an' guidin', baith ill-spent, 
 
 ** Amang the lave." 
 
 Thy very fauts are beacons brioht, 
 Tae help us forward tae the licht. 
 Whan thrawart hearts wad frae the richt 
 
 On ill-rades gang, 
 Yet scorn tae hide if e'er sae slight, 
 
 "Akennin' wrang." 
 
Lt 
 
 137 
 
 still a- thy «^-i::;;:r pt^r. 
 
 Bcicht gUnts o rate p» ^ 
 
 O' pi";t'*^„'*Si an' dour, 
 
 While «*''^y.\y...ard turn 
 
 — o— 
 
 . • ^mv boyhood's hama, 
 Oh ! weel I "'^•^tr^e cheerie ; 
 "V a' its «««»«V* Vthat pleasure gie, 
 
 ^Vaf^ufa^C^' 
 ''Th^*»%a^whffioodn.yain 
 
 .. i„ its UPS an' doons, 
 My We has ham ite«P blended, 
 
 Vi" joy »" * „^, come back, as gm 
 . ^ye\ these ^«"^'er htd eaded : 
 
 My t^^''°t^::L same, as whan 
 The viUfge green ^^^^^^ 
 
 W«PH'i*esttaemony»fea8t 
 
 Wl'l^'^u^'!^ toane an' lugg'«- 
 Oot horn-sp»" 
 
 ! W 
 
! 
 
 ^^1 
 
 138 
 
 That horn-spuno wi' whistle in't, — 
 
 That luggie brichtly nolished, 
 Are just as real tae me, tho' a' 
 
 Youth's dreams hae been demolished 
 But tho' the glamour's gane for aye, 
 
 An' life's noo gey an ruggie, 
 A glint o' joy comes back at sicht 
 
 0' hom-spune an' luggie. 
 
 I like tae see the dear auld spot. 
 
 The cot whare I was born in, 
 Nor feel a shame in speakin' o' 
 
 The struggles o' life's mornin' ; 
 I raither pride me in the fac', 
 
 That puirtith was nae bogie, 
 An' frugal lessons were imbibed, 
 
 Frae hom-spune an' luggie. 
 
 Sin' then, I've mixed amang the great, 
 
 Wi' titles an' distinctions, 
 An' sat at mony a festive board, 
 
 In gay an' gilded mansions ; 
 But gie tae me, 'boon a' their stews, 
 
 Or wines that just befog ye, 
 A feast o' halesome parritch oot 
 
 horn-spnne an' luggie. 
 
 Auld Scotia's sons the warld ower 
 
 Hae shown a sturdy valour ; 
 They mak' a name whare'er they gang. 
 
 An' lauch at thoucht o' failure. 
 Tho' hard the stniggles o' their youth, 
 
 Wi' whiles a scrimpit coggie, 
 They've spelled the brae tae walth 
 poo'er 
 
 Frae hom-spune an' luggie. 
 
 an 
 
 i'lSdiat-S 
 

 mm 
 
 139 
 
 The sturdy chiels frae Scotland's hills, 
 
 Hae shared war's strife an ' glory, 
 An' left a record o' their deeds, 
 
 Embalmed in sang an' story : 
 An' whare ower distant lands they range 
 
 Tae share life's stern tug aye, 
 May they look back wi' honest pride, 
 
 On horn-apnne and luggie. 
 
 OVER THE CREEK. 
 
 Over the creek, in a snug little cottage, 
 
 Lives little Madeline, pride of my heart, 
 With light waving hair o'er her lily neck 
 streaming, 
 And eyes that first snared me with love's 
 piercing dart, 
 Fair is her bosom as snow on the mountain, 
 Like day's rosy dawn is the blush on her 
 cheek, — 
 Lips like the cherry their sweetness dis- 
 closing 
 Has sweet little Madeline, over the creek. 
 
 Soft as the murmur of Summer's light 
 zephyrs, 
 Sweet as the thrill of the mocking bird's 
 song, 
 Is the voice of mj^ darling to me gaily singing, 
 
 As over the meadows we trip it along. 
 Nature's gay treasures of sunshine and 
 flowers, 
 bair tho' they be in the bright lands you 
 seek, 
 
1 
 
 
 140 
 
 Wi«ld not such power o*er the spirit en- 
 trancing, 
 As the charms of my Madeline over the 
 creek. 
 
 In far distant lands of the East I have wan- 
 dered, 
 But not their fair daughters in rural attire, 
 Nor the gay city belles amid fashion and 
 splendour. 
 Could wake in this bosom affection's true 
 fire* 
 'Twas the fair Madeline, the beloved of my 
 boyhood, 
 First taught me the language of lovers to 
 speak, 
 And still, though long years from my home 
 I have wandered, 
 I love only Madeline, over the creek. 
 
 And since this fair treasure's restored to my 
 bosom, 
 My cup of delight is now full to the brim. 
 Again throbs my heart with the feeling of 
 boyhood, 
 While tears of true joy will my eyes often 
 dim. 
 Soon will our hearts be in wedlock united. 
 And then home's endearments I'll faith- 
 fully seek, 
 No more till the sunset of life to be parted, 
 I'll cherish my Madeline, over the creek. 
 
 THE END, 
 
 Piinted by J. B. Leno, 76 Dmry Lane. 
 
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