HERE'S A HEALTH.

Partly by BURNS.

HERE'S a health to them that's awa',
Here's a health to them that's awa';
And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,
May never guid luck be their fa'!
It's guid to be merry and wise,

It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

Here's a health to them that's awa';

Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan,
Although that his band be but sma'.

May liberty meet with success!

May prudence protect her frae evil!
May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,
And wander their way to the devil!

Here's a health to them that's awa',

Here's a health to them that's awa';
Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie,

That lives at the lug o' the law!

Here's freedom to him that wad read,

Here's freedom to him that wad write;

There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard,
But they wham the truth wad indite.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

Here's a health to them that's awa';

Here's chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,

Though bred amang mountains o' snaw!

Here's a health to them that's awa',

Here's a health to them that's awa';

And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,
May never guid luck be their fa'!

Many modern imitations of this old genuine Jacobite song have been written and published.

THICKEST night o'erhangs my dwelling,
Howling tempests o'er me rave;
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave.
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes, softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly waged,

But the heavens deny'd success.

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,

Not a hope that dare attend,
The wide world is all before us;

But a world without a friend!

Supposed to refer to the story of James Drummond, Earl of Strathallan, who escaped to France after the '45. "The air," says Burns, is the composition of one of the worthiest and best-hearted men living-Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edinburgh. As he and I were both sprouts of Jacobitism, we agreed to dedicate the words and air to that cause. To tell the matter of fact, except when my passions were heated by some accidental cause, my Jacobitism was merely by way of vive la bagatelle."

THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.

BURNS.

THE small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet runs clear through the vale;
The hawthorn trees blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
While the lingering moments are number'd by care?
No flowers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dared could it merit their malice,
A king and a father to place on his throne?

His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.

But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn :
Your deeds proved so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alas! can I make you no sweeter return?

CAM' YE BY ATHOLE BRAES?

HOGG.

CAM' ye by Athole braes, lad wi' the philabeg,

Down by the Tummel, or banks of the Garry? Saw ye my lad with his bonnet and white cockade, Leaving his mountains to follow Prince Charlie? Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee?

Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly! Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee?

King of the Highland hearts, bonny Prince Charlie!

I hae but ae son, my brave young Donald;

But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry: Health to Macdonald and gallant Clanronald,

For they are the men that wad die for their Charlie.

Charlie, Charlie, &c.

I'll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them,
Down by Lord Murray and Roy of Kildarlie;
Brave Macintosh, he shall fly to the field wi' them;
They are the lads I can trust with my Charlie.

Charlie, Charlie, &c.

Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore, Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely! Ronald and Donald, drive on wi' the brave claymore Over the necks of the foes of Prince Charlie!

The REV. JOHN SKINNER, episcopal minister of Longside, near Peterhead,
Aberdeenshire, born 1721, died 1807.

COME, gi'e's a sang, Montgomery cried,

And lay your disputes all aside,

What signifies't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them?

Let Whig and Tory all agree,

Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Let Whig and Tory all agree,

To drop their Whig-mig-morum;

* It is related that the author of this song was at dinner at the house of a lady named Montgomery, that the guests became excited on a political dispute, and that Mrs. Montgomery asked Mr. Skinner for a song, to put an end to it; expressing at the same time her surprise that so capital a tune as the "Reel of Tullochgorum" had no words to which it could be sung. Mr. Skinner afterwards pro