Evening THE sun upon the lake is low, Now all whom varied toil and care The noble dame on turret high, Upon the footpath watches now For Colin's darkening plaid. Now to their mates the wild swans row, By day they swam apart; And to the thicket wanders slow The woodlark at his partner's side All meet whom day and care divide,— SIR W. SCOTT. Song ORPHEUS with his lute made trees, Everything that heard him play, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, The Twa Corbies As I was walking all alane SHAKESPEARE.' I heard twa corbies making a mane, 'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?' 1 'In behint yon auld fail 1 dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain knight; 'His hound is to the hunting gane, 'Ye'll sit on his white hause bane, We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 'Mony a one for him makes mane, UNKNOWN. To One in Paradise I THOU wast all to me, love, For which my soul did pine A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, II Ah, dream, too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast ! A voice from out the Future cries, 'On! on !'-but o'er the Past (Dim gulf !) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast ! III For, alas! alas! with me 'No more-no more-no more' IV And all my days are trances, By what eternal streams. Hymn to Diana POE. QUEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep : Earth, let not thy envious shade Cynthia's shining orb was made Heav'n to clear, when day did close: 55 Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever : County Guy AH! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, JONSON. The orange flower perfumes the bower, The lark, his lay who trill'd all day, The village maid steals through the shade, To beauty shy, by lattice high, Sings high-born Cavalier. The star of Love, all stars above, Now reigns o'er earth and sky; And high and low the influence know— But where is County Guy? SIR W. SCOTT. Gathering Song of Donald Dhu PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Come from deep glen, and Come every hill-plaid, and Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Chief, vassal, page and groom, Fast they come, fast they come ; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset ! SIR W. SCOTT. The Destruction of Sennacherib THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, |