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But a lovelier prospect appears to the view,
A prospect more fitting the fortune of you;
'Tis the leaf-cover'd elm with its arms spreading wide,
And the green ivy tendrils that cling to its side.
Tho' the furious blasts of the winter assail,
And the green leaves of summer spread far o'er the vale,
Still, in friendship united, they ever remain,
And smile at the storms that attack them in vain.
So, Jessy, my love, ere thy roses decay,
And thy bright beam of summer has faded away,
Thy cold icy frowns and thy sorrows resign,
And in conjugal love bind thy fortune to mine.
Then I, like the elm tree that smiles at the blast,
And thou, like the ivy that clings to its breast,
In friendship united will ever remain,
And laugh at the storms that attack us in vain. *

AE FOND KISS.
As fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee,
Who shall say that fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

* This song, by Mr. WILLIAM MʻLAREN, Paisley, author of the valuable sketch of the life of TANNAHILL, from which we have made such copious extracts in our first volume, we judge will not prove unacceptable to the lovers of true poetry. It abounds with beautiful and original allusions to natural objects, which are never associated in our minds without feelings of interest and pleasure. It is certainly worthy of the friend of TANNAHILL.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest !
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;.
Ae farewell, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. “Dear land of my birth, of my friends, of my love !

Shall I never again climb thy mountains?
Nor wander at eve, thro' some lone leafy grove,

To listen the dash of thy fountains?
Shall no hand that I love close my faint-beaming eye,

That darkens 'mid warfare and danger? Ah, no! for I feel that my last heaving sigh

Must fleet on the gale of the stranger ! " Then farewell ye valleys-ye fresh blooming bow'rs,

Of childhood the once-happy dwelling; No in

your

haunts shall I chace the gay hours, For death at my bosom is knelling; But proudly the lotus shall bloom o'er my grave,

To mark where a freeman is sleeping; And my dirge shall be heard in the Nile's dashing wave, While the Arab his night-watch is keeping."

more

'Twas a soldier who spoke—but his voice now is gone,

And lowly the hero is lying ; No sound meets the ear, save the crocodile's moan,

Or the breeze through the palm-tree sighing.
But, lone tho' he rests, where the camel is seen

By the wilderness heavily pacing,
His grave in our bosoms shall ever be green,

And his monument ne'er know defacing.

NOW SPRING AGAIN.

TUNE— The boatie rows."
Now spring again, wi' liesome tread,

'Mang Bernard's bow'rs is seen;
The modest snaw-drap hangs its head,

True emblem o' my Jean.
But tho' fell winter's reign be o'er,

An' storms nae mair do blaw,
Yet cauld and cheerless is the bow'r

When love is far awa.

How swift the langest night flees by

When twa fond lovers meet,
And balmy kiss and breathing sigh

Together mingle sweet!
An' how wae ilk ane's to part

When forc'd at duty's ca';
But dowie, dowie is the heart

Whase love is far awa.

The moon shines clearer i' the lift,

The breeze mair gentle sighs,
And glowin' is the sleety drift

If warm’d by beauty's eyes.

An O gin love but leads the way,

What cares can e'er befa'?
The sun o' pleasure shines a' day

When love's no far awa.
Then, while our youth is i' the prime,

Let's catch the fleetin' hour,
An offer vows at beauty's shrine,

In token o’ her pow'r.
An' whan auld age upon our pow

Begins to fling his snaw,
We'll welcome him wi' friendly low,

If love's no far awa,

THE MAID OF ISLAY.

RISING o'er the heaving billow,

Evening gilds the ocean's swell,
While with thee, on grassy pillow,

Solitude ! I love to dwell.
Lonely to the sea breeze blowing,

Oft I chaunt my love-lorn strain,
To the streamlet sweetly flowing

Murmur oft a lover's pain.

work, by

* Although these two highly beautiful songs, by a Mr. James FRAZER of Edinburgh, were received at an early period of this

some unaccountable accident they have hitherto slipt aside. We would have been extremely sorry to have been deficient in our duty to the public and the author, in not giving them a place, as we judge them inferior to few pieces in this or any other collection. They contain the most flattering proofs of a highly endowed poetical genius, which we would be happy to see assidrously cultivated, and encouraged.

'Twas for her, the maid of Islay,

Time flew o'er me wing'd with joy;
'Twas for her the cheering smile ay

Beam'd with rapture in my eye.
Not the tempest raving round me,

Lightning's flash, or thunder's roll,
Not the ocean's rage could wound me,

While her image fill'd my soul.
Farewell days of purest pleasure,

Long your loss my heart shall mourn!
Farewell hours of bliss the measure,

Bliss that never can return.
Cheerless 'o'er the wild heath wand'ring,

Cheerless o'er the wave-worn shore,
On the past with sadness pond'ring,

Hope's fair visions charm no more.

SWEET MAID, ON THY CHEEK. Sweet maid, on thy cheek there's a red rosy blush,

From thine eye beams the peace of the dove, I own'd their keen pow'r 'neath yon sweet birken bush,

When I sigh'd out the ag’nies of love. O enter this sweet sylvan shade,

Where no cares shall intrude on our bliss,. Where blushing, yet yielding, dear maid,

Let me seal each fond vow with a kiss.
A sweet nuptial morn soon shall smile on our loves,

And add to our joys new delight;
The birds in blyth concert shall sing in the grove,

A sweet prelude to the joys of the night.
Then sweet raptures our hours shall employ,

While I lean on thy fond beating heart; For sweetest, and dearest's the joy

That the conjugal life can impart.

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