II.

But see, my love, where far below
Our lingering wheels are moving slow,
The whiles, up-gazing still,

Our menials eye our steepy way,

Marvelling, perchance, what whim can stay Our steps when eve is sinking grey

On this gigantic hill.

So think the vulgar-Life and time
Ring all their joys in one dull chime
Of luxury and ease;

And. O! beside these simple knaves,
How many better-born are slaves
To such coarse joys as these,
Dead to the nobler sense that glows
When nature's grander scenes unclose!
But, Lucy, we will love them yet,
The mountain's misty coronet,

The greenwood, and the wold;
And love the more, that of their maze
Adventure high of other days

By ancient bards is told,

Bringing, perchance, like my poor tale,
Some moral truth in fiction's veil:
Nor love them less, that o'er the hill
The evening breeze, as now, comes chill;-
My love shall wrap her warm,

And, fearless of the slippery way,
While safe she trips the heathy brae,
Shall hang on Arthur's arm.

PHAROS LOQUITUR.'

FAR in the bosom of the deep,
O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep
A ruddy gem of changeful light,
Bound on the dusky brow of night,
The seaman bids my lustre hail,
And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

LINES,2

ADDRESSED TO

RANALD MACDONALD, ESQ., OF STAFFA.

STAFFA, sprung from high Macdonald,
Worthy branch of old Clan Ranald!

1["On the 30th of July, 1814, Mr. Hamilton,' Mr. Erskine,” and Mr. Duff, Commissioners, along with Mr. (now Sir) Walter Scott, and the writer, visited the Lighthouse; the Commissioners being then on one of their voyages of Inspection, noticed in the Introduction. They breakfasted in the Library, when Sir Walter, at the entreaty of the party, upon inscribing his name in the Album, added these interesting lines." — STEVENSON's Account of the Bell-Rock Lighthouse. 1824.]

[These lines were written in the Album, kept at the Sound of Ulva Inn, in the month of August, 1814.]

1 The late Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate, long Sheriff-Depute of Lanark shire, and afterwards one of the Principal Clerks of Session in Scotlanddied in 1831.

* Afterwards Lord Kinedder.

* Adam Duff, Esq., Sheriff-Depute of the county of Edinburgh.

Staffa! king of all kind fellows!
Well befall thy hills and valleys,
Lakes and inlets, deeps and shallows-
Cliffs of darkness, caves of wonder,
Echoing the Atlantic thunder;
Mountains which the grey mist covers,
Where the Chieftain spirit hovers,
Pausing while his pinions quiver,
Stretch'd to quit our land for ever!
Each kind influence reign above thee!
Warmer heart, 'twixt this and Staffa
Beats not, than in heart of Staffa!

THE BOLD DRAGOON:'

OR,

THE PLAIN OF BADAJOS.

'TWAS a Maréchal of France, and he fain would

honour gain,

And he long'd to take a passing glance at Portugal from Spain;

With his flying guns this gallant gay,

And boasted corps d'armée

Ohe fear'd not our dragoons, with their long swords. boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

[This song was written shortly after the battle of Badajos, (April, 1812,) for a Yeomanry Cavalry dinner. It was first printed in Mr. George Thomson's Collection of Select Melodies, and stands in vol. vi. of the last edition of that work.]

To Campo Mayor come, he had quietly sat down,
Just a fricassee to pick, while his soldiers sack'd the

town,

When, 'twas peste! morbleu! mon General,

Hear the English bugle call!

And behold the light dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Right about went horse and foot, artillery and all, And as the devil leaves a house they tumbled through the wall;'

They took no time to seek the door,

But best foot set before

O they ran from our dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Those valiant men of France they had scarcely fled a

mile,

When on their flank there sous'd at once the British rank and file;

For Long, De Grey, and Otway, then

Ne'er minded one to ten,

But came on like light dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Three hundred British lads they made three thousand

reel,

Their hearts were made of English oak, their swords of Sheffield steel,

'In their hasty evacuation of Campo Mayor, the French pulled down a part of the rampart, and marched out over the glacis.

Their horses were in Yorkshire bred,

And Beresford them led;

So huzza for brave dragoons, with their long swords boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Then here's a health to Wellington, to Beresford, to
Long,

And a single word of Bonaparte before I close my song
The eagles that to fight he brings
Should serve his men with wings,

When they meet the bold dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

FOR A' THAT AN' A' THAT!

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.

2

THOUGH right be aft put down by strength,
As mony a day we saw that,
The true and leilfu' cause at length

Shall bear the grie for a' that.

For a' that an' a' that,

Guns, guillotines, and a' that,

The Fleur-de-lis, that lost her right,

Is queen again for a' that!

[Sung at the first meeting of the Pitt Club of Scotland; and published in the Scots Magazine for July, 1814.]