"But had you seen the philabegs,

And skyrin tartan trews, man;

When in the teeth they dared our Whigs,

And covenant true blues, man;
In lines extended lang and large,
When bayonets opposed the targe,
And thousands hastened to the charge,
Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till, out o' breath,
They fled like frighted doos, man."
"O how, MAN, Tam, can that be true?
The chase gaed frae the North, man;

I saw myself, they did pursue

The horsemen back to Forth, man;

And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,

And straught to Stirling winged their flight;

But, FEARFU' lot! the gates were shut;
And mony a huntit, poor red-coat,

For fear amaist did swarf, man!"

"My sister Kate cam up the gate,
Wi' crowdie unto me, man;
She swore she saw some rebels run

Frae Perth unto Dundee, man:
Their left-hand general had nae skill,
The Angus lads had nae good will
That day their neibors' blood to spill;
For fear, by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o' brose-all crying woes;

And so it goes, you see, man.
"They've lost some gallant gentlemen
Amang the Highland clans, man:
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,

Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man:
Now wad ye sing this double fight,

Some fell for wrang, and some for right;
But mony bade the world guid-night;
Then ye may tell, how pell and mell,
By red claymores, and muskets' knell,
Wi' dying yell, the Tories fell,

And Whigs AWA' did flee, man."

the kilts shining

long

target

from

doves

went

own

straight

many, hunted almost, swoon

porridge

no

neighbours

basin

would wrong

BLOOMING NELLY..

TUNE-On a Bank of Flowers.

ON a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,

The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,

With love and sleep opprest;

When Willie, wandering through the wood,
Who for her favour oft had sued,

He gazed, he wished, he feared, he blushed,
And trembled where he stood.

Her closed eyes like weapons sheathed,
Were sealed in soft repose;

Her lip, still as she fragrant breathed,
It richer dyed the rose.

The springing lillies sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton, kissed her rival breast;
He gazed, he wished, he feared, he blushed-
His bosom ill at rest.

Her robes light waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;

Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace:

Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,

A faltering, ardent kiss he stole ;

He gazed, he wished, he feared, he blushed,
And sighed his very soul.

As flies the partridge from the brake
On fear-inspired wings,

So Nelly starting, half awake,

Away affrighted springs:

But Willy followed, as he should;

He overtook her in the wood;

He vowed, he prayed, he found the maid
Forgiving all and good.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.

TUNE-Failte na Miosg.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe-
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below:
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer:
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe-
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

THE BANKS OF NITH.

TUNE-Robie donna Gorach.

THE Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,

Where Cuminins ance had high command;
When shall I see that honoured land,

That winding stream I love so dear! Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand For ever, ever keep me here?

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,

Where spreading hawthorns gaily blooms!
How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,

Where lambkins wanton through the broom!
Though wandering, now, must be my doom,
Far from thy bonnie banks and braes,
May there my latest hours consume,
Amang the friends of early days!

once

MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE!

To anger them a' is a pity,

sister

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow

In poortith I might make a fen'; What care I in riches to wallow,

If I maunna marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie, the Laird o' Drumeller,
Guid-day to you, brute! he comes ben;
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen ?

My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men ;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But if it's ordained I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
Yestreen at the valentines' dealing,

My heart to my mou gied a sten;
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written-Tam Glen.
The last Halloween I was waukin

My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;

such

poverty, shift

must not

good-day, in boasts

mother, deafen

who, so

if give, good

must

last night

mouth, gave, bound

one

watching

wet shift, know

His likeness cam up the house staukin,
And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen!
Come counsel, dear tittie! don't tarry-

I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry

The lad I loe dearly-Tam Glen.

stalking trews

if

love

THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE
COMES HAME.

By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,

I heard a man sing, though his head it was gray;
And as he was singing, the tears fa-t down came-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
The church is in ruins, the state is in jars:
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars;
We darena weel say't, though we ken wha's to blame,
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd.
It brak the sweet heart of my faithfu'auld dame-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Since I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moments my words are the same-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

home

dare not,

[know

weep, church[yard

lost

LOVELY DAVIES.

TUNE-Miss Muir.

O HOW shall I, unskilfu', try
The poet's occupation,

The tunefu' powers, in happy hours,
That whisper inspiration?

Even they maun dare an effort mair
Than aught they ever gave us,

must, more

Ere they rehearse, in equal verse,
The charms o' lovely Davies.

Each eye it cheers, when she appears,
Like Phoebus in the morning,

When past the shower, and every flower
The garden is adorning.

As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore,
When winter-bound the wave is;

Sae droops our heart when we maun part
Frae charming, lovely Davies.

Her smile's a gift, frae boon the lift,
That maks us mair than princes;

A sceptered hand, a king's command,
Is in her darting glances:

80 from

sky makes

The man in arms, 'gainst female charms,
Even he her willing slave is;

He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
Of conquering, lovely Davies.

My Muse to dream of such a theme,
Her feeble powers surrender;
The eagle's gaze alone surveys
The sun's meridian splendour:
I wad in vain essay the strain,

would

The deed too daring brave is;

I'll drop the lyre, and mute admire
The charms o' lovely Davies.

THE BONNIE WEE THING.
TUNE-Bonnie wee Thing.

BONNIE wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine!
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonnie face o' thine;
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty,
In ae constellation shine;

To adore thee is my duty,

Goddess o' this soul o' mine!

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert though mine,

I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine!

gentle

would

lose

throbs

not

one

SONG OF DEATH.

AIR-Oran an Aoig.

Scene-A Field of Battle-Time of the day, Evening--The wounded and lying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song:FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun;

Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties
Our race of existence is run!

Thou grim King of Terrors, thou life's gloomy foe!
Go, frighten the coward and slave;

Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know
No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the dull peasant-he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;