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To the last point of vision, and beyond,
Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain
(Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain ;
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with rapture more divine;
Type of the wise who soar-but never roam,
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.

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,
Let him follow the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men ;
Come, open the West-port, and let me gae free,
And its room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.

Dundee he is mounted-he rides up the street,
The bells are rung backwards, the drums they are beat,
But the provost, douse man, said, "Just e'en let him be,
The town is weel quit of that de'il of Dundee.'

*

As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow;
But some young plants of grace-they look'd couthie †
and slee,

Thinking-Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee.

With sour-featured saints the Grass-market was pang'd,
As if half the west had set tryste to be hang'd;
There was spite in each face, there was fear in each e'e,
As they watch'd for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

[free,

These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears,
And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers;
But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway left
At a toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

He spurr'd to the foot of the high castle rock,
And to the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke-
"Let Mons Meg and her marrows three vollies let flee,
For love of the bonnets of bonnie Dundee."

The Gordon has ask'd of him whither he goes-
"Wheresoever shall guide me the spirit of Montrose ;
Your Grace in short space shall have tidings of me,
Or that low lies the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

*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,
Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox;
And tremble, false Whigs, though triumphant ye be,
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me.”

He waved his proud arm, and the trumpets were blown,
The kettle drums clash'd, and the horsemen rode on,
Till on Ravelston-craigs and on Clermiston lee
Died away the wild war-note of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men;
Fling all your gates open, and let me gae free,
For 'tis up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

ON READING IZAAK WALTON'S
"COMPLETE ANGLER."

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,
Caught by thy cunning bait, this book,
To be ensnared on thy hook.

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,
More than the scaly brood confines.

Our hearts and senses too, we see,
Rise quickly at thy master hand,
And ready to be caught by thee
Are lured to virtue willingly.

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,
Within my memory cherished long,
Comes fairer forth,

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 feel I am alone;

I check'd him while he spoke, yet could he speak,
Alas! I would not check.

For reasons not to love him once I sought,

And wearied all my thought

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