To the last point of vision, and beyond, Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; WORDSWORTH. THE HERO OF KILLYKRANKIE. To the Lords of Convention, 'twas Clavers who spoke, Ere the king's crown go down, there are crowns to be broke; So each cavalier, who loves honour and me, Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can, Dundee he is mounted-he rides up the street, * As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow, Thinking-Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee. With sour-featured saints the Grass-market was pang'd, [free, These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears, He spurr'd to the foot of the high castle rock, The Gordon has ask'd of him whither he goes- *Head. + Kind, good-humoured. + Sly. "There are hills beyond Pentland, and streams beyond Forth, If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the North; There are wild dunnie-wassels, three thousand times three, Will cry Hoigh! for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. "Away to the hills, to the woods, to the rocks, He waved his proud arm, and the trumpets were blown, Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can, SIR WALTER SCOTT. ON READING IZAAK WALTON'S ALBEIT, gentle Angler, I Delight not in thy trade, Yet in thy pages there doth lie So much of quaint simplicity, So much of mind, Of such good kind, That none need be afraid, Gladly from thee, I'm lured to bear With things that seemed most vile before, For thou didst on poor subjects rear Matter the wisest sage might hear. And with a grace, That doth efface More laboured works, thy simple lore Can teach us that thy skilful lines, Our hearts and senses too, we see, P Content and peace, With health and ease, Walk by thy side. At thy command We bid adieu to worldly care, And join in gifts that all may share. Gladly with thee I pace along, And of sweet fancies dream; Waiting till some inspired song, With more of worth; Because that time upon its stream Feathers and chaff will bear away, But give to gems a brighter ray. ANON. A MAIDEN'S LAMENT. I LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone, I check'd him while he spoke, yet could he speak, For reasons not to love him once I sought, And wearied all my thought |