Ae kind word frae my love
Would charm frae yule to yule.

Our gudewife's come hame
Mute now maun I woo;
But my love's bright glances
Shine a' the chamber through.
O sweet is her voice

When she sings at her wark,
Sweet the touch of her hand,
And her vows in the dark.

EARL MARCH.

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

Earl March look'd on his dying child,
And smit with grief to view her—
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour,

His coming to discover;

And her love look'd up to Ellen's bower, And she look'd on her lover.

But ah! so pale, he knew her not,

Though her smile on him was dwelling.

And am I then forgot-forgot?

It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

PHEMIE IRVING.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

Gay is thy glen, Corrie,

With all thy groves flowering;

Green is thy glen, Corrie,

When July is showering ;
And sweet is yon wood where

The small birds are bowering,
For there dwells the sweet one
Whom I am adoring.

Her round neck is whiter

Than winter when snowing;

Her meek voice is milder

Than Ae in its flowing;

The glad ground yields music

Where she goes by the river;
One kind glance would charm me
For ever and ever.

Jenny's heart was frank and free, And wooers she had mony, yet Her sang was ay, Of a' I see, Commend me to my Johnie yet. For, air and late, he has sic gate To mak' a body cheerie, that

I wish to be, before I die,

His ain kind dearie yet.

Now Jenny's face was fu' o' grace,
Her shape was sma' and genty-like,
And few or nane in a' the place

Had gow'd and gear mair plenty yet;
Though war's alarms, and Johnie's charms,
Had gart her aft look eerie, yet
She sung wi' glee, I hope to be
My Johnie's ain dearie yet.

What tho' he's now gaen far awa',
Where guns and cannons rattle, yet

Unless my Johnie chance to fa'
In some uncanny battle, yet

Till he return, my breast will burn

Wi' love that weel may cheer me yet,

For I hope to see, before I die,

His bairns to him endear me yet.