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Ultonia's old heroes awoke at the call, And renew'd the wild pomp of the chase and the hall : And the standard of Fion flash'd fierce from on high, Like a burst of the sun when the tempest is nigh. It seem'd that the harp of green Erin Once more Could 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, And listed my lay, while she turn’d from mine eye? Was she, too, a vision, just glancing to view, Then dispersed in the sunbeam, or melted to dev 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, Had been but a zephyr, that sigh'd and was still !

Oh would it had been so, not then this poor heart Had learn'd the sad lesson, to love and to part ; To bear, unassisted, its burthen of care, While I toil'd for the wealth I had no one to share. Not then had I said, when life's summer was done, And the hours of her autumn were fast speeding on, ‘Take the fame and the riches ye brought in your train, And restore me the dream of my spring-tide again.”

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."

‘Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
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.

“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;
And you, the foremost o' them a',
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.

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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'badehervision hail l— 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, Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty prince, Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd their round, Beheld all others fix’dupon the ground; Whose ears received thesame unvaried phrase, • Sultaun thy vassal hears, and he obeys' All have their tastes—this may the fancy strike Of such grave folks as pomp and grandeur like ;

: The hint of this tale is taken from La Caniscia Asagica, a novel of Ciam Battista Casti.

For me, I love the honest heart and Warm Of Monarch who can amble round his farm, Or, when the toil of state no more annoys, In chimney corner seek domestic joys. I love a prince will bid the bottle pass, Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass; In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay, Keep up the jest, and mingle in the lay. Such Monarchs best our free-born humours suit, But Despots must be stately, stern, and mute.

III.

This Solimaun, Serendib had insway— And where's Serendib may some critic say. Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart, Scare not my Pegasus before I start If Rennell has it not, you’ll find, mayhap, The isle laid down in Captain Sindbad's map, L Famed mariner whose mercilessnarrations. Drove every friend and kinsman out of patience, Till, fain to find a guest who thought them shorter, He deign'd to tell them over to a porter: The last edition see, by Long. and Co., Rees, Hurst, and Orme, our fathers in the Row.

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