Nor hear a blessing from her tongue,
When the last sigh upon it hung.

When death had reft her baby sweet,
She wound him in his winding sheet,
An' followed to his grave, resigned,
But ah! she could not stay behind.
Where am I gaun?—I know it now;
To a dear grave-aye, there are two;
A very low and little one

Lies 'twixt the other and the sun.

There I must wend, though all alone;
An inward anguish drags me on,
O'er these new graves, beneath the yew,
My tears to mingle with the dew.
For all that to my soul endear'd,
I lov'd, I cherish'd, and rever'd,
Lie there within a lowly shrine;
Can there be earthly woe like mine?

The sweetest bud that ever grew
Has faded like the morning dew;
The parent stem that gave it birth,
Has sunk into her native earth.
My wife-my baby-O how sweet!
But there's a home where we shall meet,
Beyond yon blue and diamond dome
We'll find an everlasting home.

AN AGED WIDOW'S LAMENT.

OH, is he gane, my good auld man?

And am I left forlorn?

And is that manly heart at rest,
The kindest e'er was born?

We've sojourn'd here, thro' hope and fear,
For fifty years and three,
And ne'er in all that happy time
Said he harsh word to me.

And mony a braw and bourdly son,
And daughters in their prime,
His trembling hand laid in the grave,
Lang, lang afore the time.

I dinna greet the day, to see
That he to them has gane,
But oh, it's fearful thus to be
Left in a world alane,

Wi' a poor worn and broken heart,

Whose race of joy is run,

And scarce has little opening left
For aught aneath the sun.

My life nor death I winna crave,
Nor fret, nor yet despond,
But a' my hope is in the grave,

And the dear hame beyond.

McKIMMAN.

Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Kimman ?
Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever?

Shall the pibroch that welcomed the foe to Ben-Aer
Be hushed when we seek the red wolf in his lair,

To give back our wrongs to the giver?

To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have

gone

Like the course of the fire-flaught their clansmen pass'd

on,

With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have

bound them,

And have taken the field with their vassals around them, Then raise the wild slogan-cry, On to the foray!

Sons of the heather-hill, pine-wood, and glen ; Shout for M'Pherson, M Leod, and the Moray, Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again.

Youth of the daring heart, bright be thy doom

As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now But the fate of M'Kimman is closing in gloom,

And the breath of the grey wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow.

Victorious in joy thou'lt return to Ben-Aer,

And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there; But M'Kimman, M.Kimman, M'Kimman shall neverO never-never-never-never!

Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou can shun not,

M' Kimman?

Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou can shun not? If thy course must be brief, let the proud Saxon know That the soul of M'Kimman ne'er quail'd when a foe

Bared his blade in the land he had won not.

Where the light-footed roe leaves the wild breeze behind, And the red heather-bloom gives its sweets to the windThere our broad pennon flies, and our keen steeds are prancing

'Mid the startling war-cries, and the bright weapons glancing!

Then raise the wild slogan-cry! On to the foray!
Sons of the heather-hill, pine-wood, and glen;
Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,
Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!

SONG OF THE TIMES OF CHARLES FIRST.

See now, my brethren, heaven is clear,

And all the clouds are gone;

The righteous man shall flourish now—
Brave days are coming on.

Come then, dear comrades, and be glad,

And eke rejoice with me;

Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down,
And hey, then up go we!

Whate'er the bishops' hands have built

Our hammers shall undo;

We'll break their pipes, and burn their copes,
And burn their churches too.

N

We'll exercise within the groves,

And preach beneath the tree; We'll make a pulpit of a cask, And hey, then up go we!

We'll down with deans and prebends too,
And I rejoice to tell ye,

How we shall eat good pigs our fill,
And capons stew'd in jelly.

We'll burn the fathers' learned books,
And make the schoolmen flee;
We'll down with all that smells of wit,
And hey, then up go we!

If once the greedy churchmen crew
Be crush'd and overthrown,
We'll teach the nobles how to stoop,
And keep the gentry down.

Good manners have an ill report,

And turn to pride we see ;

We'll therefore cry good manners down,

And hey, then up go we!

The name of lord shall be abhorr'd,
For every man's a brother ;
No reason why, in church or state,

One man should rule another.

Now when this change of government

Has set our fingers free,

We'll make their saucy dames come down,

And hey, then up go we !