O wae upon you, men o' state, That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As ye make monie a fond heart mourn, Sae may it on your heads return! How can your flinty hearts enjoy The widow's tears, the orphan's cry? But soon may peace bring happier days, And Willie, hame to Logan braes!

THE WARRIOR'S RETURN.

Air-"The Mill Mill O."

WHEN wild waa's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' monie a sweet babe fatherless,
And monie a widow mourning:

I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia hame again,
1 cheery on did wander.

I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonie glen,
Where early life I sported;
I passed the mill and trystin thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted:

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, Down by her mother's dwelling! And turn'd me round to hide the flood That in my een was swelling.

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, O! happy, happy may be be,

That's dearest to thy bosom!

My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain would be thy lodger;
I've serv'd my king and country lang,
Take pity on a sodger.

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,

And lovelier was than ever: Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed, Forget him shall I never:

Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it,

That gallant badge, the dear cockade,
Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose-
Syne pale like onie lily;

She sank within my arms and cried,
Art thou my ain dear Willie ?

By him who made yon sun and sky--
"By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus may still
True lovers be rewarded.

The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted;
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
And mair we'se ne'er be parted.

Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithful sodger lad,
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize;
The sodger's wealth is honor:

The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger,
Remember he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.

LORD GREGORY.

MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar;
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r,
Lord Gregory ope thy door.

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove,
By bonie Irwine side,

Where first I own'd that virgin-love
I lang, lang had denied.

How aften didst thou pledge and vow,
Thou wad for ay be mine!

And my fond heart, itsel sae true,
It ne'er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast:

Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
O wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see!

But spare, and pardon my fause love,
His wrangs to Heaven and me!

VOL. II-M

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

Oн, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
And time is setting with me, Oh!
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide;
She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!
My true love, she cried, and sank down by his side
Never to rise again, Oh!