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Till wounded by a gilded dart,

When Jeanie's een subdued my heart,
I cherished aye the pleasing smart—
Mair sweet than I can tell.

"We had our griefs, we had our joys,
In life's uneasy way;

We nourished virtuous girls an' boys,
That now are far away;

An' she, my best, my dearest part,
The sharer o' ilk joy an' smart,
Each wish an' weakness o' my heart,
Lies mouldering in the clay.

"The life o' man's a winter day,
Look back, 'tis gone as soon ;
But yet his pleasures halve the way,
An' fly before 'tis noon :

But conscious virtue still maintains

The honest heart through toils an' pains;

An' hope o' better days remains,
An' hauds the heart aboon."

BONNIE MARY.

WHERE Yarrow rows amang the rocks, An' wheels an' boils in mony a linn, A brisk young shepherd fed his flocks, Unused to wranglement or din.

But love its silken net had thrown

Around his breast, so brisk an' airy;

An' his blue eyes wi' moisture shone,
As thus he sung of bonnie Mary.—

O Mary, thou'rt sae mild and sweet,
My very being clings about thee;
This heart would rather cease to beat,
Than beat a lonely thing without thee.
I see thee in the evening beam—
A radiant, glorious apparition;
I see thee in the midnight dream,
By the dim light of heavenly vision !

"When over Benger's haughty head

The morning breaks in streaks sae bonnie, I climb the mountain's velvet side,

For quiet rest I getna ony.
How dear the lair on yon hill cheek,
Where many a weary hour I tarry ;
For there I see the twisting reek

Rise frae the cot where dwells my Mary.

"When Phœbus keeks outower the muir,
His gowden locks a' streaming gaily;
When morn has breathed her fragrance pure,
An' life an' joy ring through the valley;
I drive my flocks to yonder brook,

carry,

The feeble in my arms I
Then every lammie's harmless look
Brings to my mind my bonnie Mary.

“Oft has the lark sung ower my head, An' shook the dew-drops frae his wing;

Oft hae my flocks forgot to feed,

An' round their shepherd form'd a ring!
Their looks condole the lee-lang day,
While mine are fix'd and never vary,
Aye turning down the westlin brae,
Where dwells my loved, my bonnie Mary.

When gloaming, creeping west the lift,
Wraps in deep shadow dell and dingle,
An' lads an' lasses mak a shift

To raise some fun around the ingle,
Regardless o' the wind or rain,

With cautious step and prospect wary,

I often trace the lonely glen

To steal a sight o' bonnie Mary.

"When midnight draws her curtain deep,
An' lays the breeze amang the bushes,
An' Yarrow in her sounding sweep,
By rock and ruin raves and rushes;
Though sunk in deep and quiet sleep,
My fancy wings her flight so airy,
To where sweet guardian spirits keep
Their watch around the couch of Mary.

The exile may forget his home,

Where blooming youth to manhood grew;

The bee forget the honey-comb,

Nor with the spring his toil renew : The sun may lose his light and heat, The planets in their rounds miscarry, But my fond heart shall cease to beat

When I forget my bonnie Mary."

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BAULDY FRAZER.

AIR" Whigs o' Fife."

My name is Bauldy Frazer, man; I'm puir, an' auld, an' pale, an' wan, 1 brak my shin, an' tint a han',

Upon Culloden lea, man;

Our Highlan' clans were bauld and stout,
An' thought to turn their faes about,
But gat that day a desperate rout,
An' owre the hills did flee, man.

Sic hurly-burly ne'er was seen,
Wi' cuffs, an' buffs, an' blindit een,
While Highlan' swords, o' metal keen,

War gleamin' grand to see, man.

The canons rowtit in our face,

An' brak our banes an' raive our claes 'Twas then we saw our ticklish case

Atween the deil an' sea, man.

Sure Charlie an' the brave Lochiel
Had been that time beside theirsell'
To plant us in the open fell

In the artillery's e'e, man:

For had we met wi' Cumberland
By Athol braes or yonder strand,
The bluid o' a' the savage band

Had dy'd the German sea, man.

;

But down we drappit dadd for dadd;
I thought it should hae put me mad,
To see sae mony a Highlan' lad

Lie bluthrin' on the brae, man.
I thought we ance had won the fray;
We smasht ae wing till it gae way;
But the other side had lost the day,
An' skelpit fast awa, man.

When Charlie wi' Macpherson met;
Like Hay he thought him back to get ;
"We'll turn," quo' he, "an' try them yet;
We'll conquer or we'll dee, man."

But Donald shumpit o'er the purn,
An' sware an aith she wadna turn,

Or sure she wad hae cause to mourn;
Then fast awa did flee, man.

O! had you seen that hunt o' death!
We ran until we tint our breath,
Ay looking back for fear o' skaith,

Wi' hopeless, shinin' ee, man.

But Britain ever may deplore

That day upon Drumossie moor,

Whar thousands ta'en war drench'd in gore, Or hang'd outower a tree, man.

O Cumberland, what mean'd ye then,
To ravage ilka Highlan' glen ?
Our crime was truth, an' love to ane,

We had nae spite at thee, man:

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