The eyes that so lately mixed glances with ours The rain is descending; the wind rises loud; And the moon her red beacon has veiled with a cloud 'Tis the better, my mates! for the warder's dull eye Shall in confidence slumber, nor dream we are nigh. Our steeds are impatient! hear my blithe Gray! There is life in his hoof-clang, and hope in his neigh; Like the flash of a meteor, the glance of his mane Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain. The drawbridge has dropped, the bugle has blown; One pledge is to quaff yet - then mount and begone! To their honor and peace, that shall rest with the slain, To their health and their glee, that see Teviot again! SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE JOURNEY ONWARDS. As slow our ship her foamy track From all the links that bind us; When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years And when, in other climes, we meet To live and die in scenes like this, As travellers oft look back at eve Of joy that's left behind us. THOMAS MOORE.1 1 THOMAS MOORE, the son of a respectable Roman Catholic grocer, was born in Dublin, in May, 1779. He was educated at the Dublin schools and at Trinity College, Dublin. He began to write verses and love songs at an early age, and on going to London to study law, after leaving college, he returned to his early love for literature. He soon abandoned the law, obtained a place under government, travelled in America, and finally зettled in England to lead a literary life. He made money from bis writings, and received a pension from the government. He JOCK OF HAZELDEAN. I. "WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie? Sae comely to be seen But aye she loot the tears down fa For Jock of Hazeldean. 1 II. "Now let this wilfu' grief be done, His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen " But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. III. "A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor palfrey fresh and fair; And you, the foremost o' them a', But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. was the intimate friend of Lord Byron, and of many of the men of the day most famous in politics and literature. His most ambitious work was Lalla Rookh, but his fame rests chiefly or bis songs and lyrics. He died in 1852. IV. The kirk was decked at morning-tide, The tapers glimmered fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, She's o'er the Border, and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean. SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE INCHCAPE ROCK. No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, Without either sign or sound of their shock, The Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that Bell on the Inchcape Rock; When the Rock was hid by the surge's swel, The sun in heaven was shining gay; The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round, The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, He felt the cheering power of spring; His eye was on the Inchcape float; And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok." The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float. Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose and burst around: Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away; He scoured the seas for many a day; And now, grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky, They cannot see the sun on high: |