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renew all the glories she boasted of yore.

Yet why at remembrance, fond heart, shouldst thou burn?

They were days of delusion, and cannot return.

But was she, too, a phantom, the Maid who stood by,

JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.

(1816.)

'WHY Weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen

But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.1

'Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale;

And listed my lay, while she turn'd Young Frank is chief of Errington,

from mine eye?

Was she, too, a vision, just glancing to

view,

Then dispersed in the sunbeam, or melted to dew?

Oh! would it had been so,-oh! would that her eye

Had been but a star-glance that shot through the sky,

And her voice, that was moulded to

melody's thrill,

And lord of Langley-dale; His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen '— But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.

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'A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair; Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair;

Had been but a zephyr, that sigh'd And you, the foremost o' them a',

and was still!

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Shall ride our forest queen'— But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, The tapers glimmer'd fair;

The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,

And dame and knight are there. They sought her baith by bower and ha';

The ladie was not seen!
She's o'er the Border, and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

1 The first stanza is ancient.

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

(1816.)

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,

Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan-Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons !
Come in your war array,

Gentles and commons.
Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky, The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy. Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterr'd,

The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,

Leave nets and barges : Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come, when

Forests are rended,

Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come,

Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come ;

See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume,

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward, each man, set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Knell for the onset !

NORA'S VOW.

(1816.)

(From the Gaelic.)

HEAR What Highland Nora said,—
'The Earlie's son I will not wed,
Should all the race of nature die,
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
And all the lands both far and near
That ever valour lost or won,
I would not wed the Earlie's son.'

'A maiden's vows,' old Callum spoke,
Are lightly made and lightly broke;
The heather on the mountain's height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blithely wed the Earlie's son.'

'The swan,' she said, 'the lake's clear breast

May barter for the eagle's nest; The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn,

Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn;

Our kilted clans, when blood is high, Before their foes may turn and fly; But I, were all these marvels done, Would never wed the Earlie's son.'

Still in the water-lily's shade

Her wonted nest the wild-swan made; Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever, Still downward foams the Awe's fierce

river;

To shun the clash of foeman's steel No Highland brogue has turn'd the

heel;

But Nora's heart is lost and won,

-She's wedded to the Earlie's son !

MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.

(1816.)

THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,

And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;

Then gather, gather, gather,
Grigalach!

Gather, gather, gather, &c.

Oursignal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,

Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!

Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo,
Grigalach!

Haloo, haloo,haloo, Grigalach, &c.

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,

Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer

are ours;

We're landless, landless, landless,
Grigalach!

Landless, landless, landless, &c.

But doom'd and devoted by vassal and
lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and
his sword!

Then courage, courage, courage,
Grigalach!

Courage, courage, courage, &c.

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,

Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!

Then vengeance, vengeance,

vengeance, Grigalach!

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Come then, Grigalach, come then, Grigalach,

Come then, come then, come then, &c.

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,

O'er the peak of Ben-Lomond the galley shall steer,

And the rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,

Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!

Then gather, gather, gather,
Grigalach!

Gather, gather, gather, &c.

VERSES

ON THE OCCASION OF A BANQUET GIVEN BY THE CITY OF EDINBURGH TO THE GRAND-DUKE NICHOLAS OF RUSSIA

AND HIS SUITE, dec. 19, 1816.)

GOD protect brave Alexander,
Heaven defend the noble Czar,
Mighty Russia's high Commander,
First in Europe's banded war;
For the realms he did deliver
From the tyrant overthrown,
Thou, of every good the Giver,
Grant him long to bless his own!
Bless him, 'mid his land's disaster,
For her rights who battled brave;
Of the land of foemen master,
Bless him who their wrongs forgave.

O'er his just resentment victor,
Victor over Europe's foes,

Late and long supreme director,
Grant in peace his reign may close.
Hail then, hail! illustrious stranger;
Welcome to our mountain strand;
Mutual interests, hopes, and danger,
Link us with thy native land.

Freemen's force, or false beguiling,
Shall that union ne'er divide,
Hand in hand while peace is smiling,
And in battle side by side.

THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS;

OR THE QUEST OF SULTAUN SOLIMAUN. (1817.)

(In imitation of Byron.)

I.

OH for a glance of that gay Muse's

eye

That lighten'd on Bandello's laughing tale,

And twinkled with a lustre shrewd and sly

When Giam Battista 'bade her vision hail!

Yet fear not, ladies, the naïve detail Given by the natives of that land

canorous;

Italian license loves to leap the pale, We Britons have the fear of shame

before us, And, if not wise in mirth, at least must be decorous.

II.

In the far eastern clime, no great while since,

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Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty Drove every friend and kinsman out

prince,

of patience,

Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd Till, fain to find a guest who thought

their round,

them shorter,

Beheld all others fix'd upon the ground; He deign'd to tell them over to a Whose ears received the same unvaried

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