O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldy.

The hoary cliffs are crowned wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldy.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.

Robert Burns.

Afton Water.

FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON.

FLOW gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds through the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,
Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills;

There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Robert Burns.

Ailsa Crag.

IN THE FRITH OF CLYDE, AILSA CRAG.

DURING AN ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, JULY 17.

(INCE risen from ocean, ocean to defy,

SINC

Appeared the Crag of Ailsa, ne'er did morn With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn

His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high:

Now, faintly darkening with the sun's eclipse,
Still is he seen, in lone sublimity,

Towering above the sea and little ships;
For dwarfs the tallest seem while sailing by,
Each for her haven; with her freight of care,
Pleasure, or grief, and toil that seldom looks
Into the secret of to-morrow's fare;

Though poor, yet rich, without the wealth of books,
Or aught that watchful love to Nature owes

For her mute powers, fixed forms, or transient shows. William Wordsworth.

TO AILSA ROCK.

[EARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid!

HEA

Give answer from thy voice, the sea-fowl's screams! When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams? When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid? How long is 't since the mighty power bid Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams? Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams, Or when gray clouds are thy cold coverlid? Thou answer'st not, for thou art dead asleep! Thy life is but two dead eternities, ·

The last in air, the former in the deep;

First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies,

Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep; Another cannot wake thy giant size.

John Keats.

A

AILSA CRAG.

SEA-GIRT precipice, in lonely rest,

Upstarting sheer from out the dark green deep; I watch thee steadfast with thy columned crest. Whether the stars their silent vigils keep, Or the bright lances of the morning sweep Athwart the mountains, thou hast firmly stood By night and day, with all undaunted steep; Ages have rolled, and thou art unsubdued, A landmark calm and still, amid the weltering flood.

Bathed in the sombre light of eventide,

The great sun slowly draws his shafts around, While gently heaves the breast of ocean wide; The wavelets, murmuring with a mellow sound, From thy gray base in playful mood rebound; The sea beneath thee gleams with golden light; In joyous quiet smiles the plain profound; Set in the main o'er all the verge of sight, Lit by the rays like gems, the islands glitter bright.

Fair in the distance mark the sunlit land,

Long Carrick's coast, the line of gay Cantire;
Far westward shines the dim-traced emerald strand;
High the surrounding battlements aspire,
And throw vast shadows in the fading fire.
See the majestic hills of Arran rise,

Wind-wrestling Goatfell and his rugged choir;
Argyll's tall ridges cleave the soaring skies;
Beyond the misty north the mighty Lomond lies.

Airly.

AIRLY BEACON.

IRLY BEACON, Airly Beacon;
O the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
While my love climbed up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the weary haunt for me,

All alone on Airly Beacon,

With his baby on my knee!

Charles Kingsley.

Allan Water.

BY ALLAN STREAM I CHANCED TO ROVE.

Y Allan stream I chanced to rove,

BY

While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi;

The winds were whispering through the grove, The yellow corn was waving ready.

I listened to a lover's sang,

And thought on youthfu' pleasures monie; And aye the wild-wood echoes rang,

O, dearly do I love thee, Annie!