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DONALD CAIRD.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Donald Caird can lilt and sing,
Blithely dance the Hieland fling;
Drink till the gudeman be blind,
Fleech till the gudewife be kind:
Hoop a leglen, clout a pan,
Or crack a pow wi' ony man :-
Tell the news in burgh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again.

Donald Caird can wire a maukin,
Kens the wiles o' dun-deer staukin ;
Leister's kipper makes a shift

To shoot a moor-fowl in the drift:
Water-bailiffs, rangers, keepers,

He can wauk when they are sleepers ;—
Not for bountith or reward,

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Donald Caird can drink a gill
Fast as hostler wife can fill;
Ilka ane that sells gude liquor

Kens how Donald bends a bicker:

When he's fou, he's stout and saucy, Keeps the cantle o' the causey; Highland chief and Lowland laird Maun gie room to Donald Caird.

Steek the aumrie, lock the kist, Else some gear may weel be mist; Donald Caird finds orra things, Where Allan Gregor fand the tings: Dunts of kebbuck, taits of woo, Whiles a hen, and whiles a sow; Webs or duds frae hedge or yardWare the wuddie, Donald Caird!

On Donald Caird the doom was stern,
Craig to tether, legs to airn:

But Donald Caird, wi' mickle study,
Caught the gift to cheat the wuddie.
Rings of airn, and bolts of steel,
Fell like ice frae hand and heel!
Watch the sheep in fauld and glen,
Donald Caird's come again,

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

Ye mariners of England!

Who guard our native seas;

Whose flag has brav'd, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again,

To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!

For the deck it was their field of fame,

And Ocean was their

grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow; As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow:

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below-
As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow.

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Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean warriors!

Our

song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceas'd to blow.

THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

Of Nelson and the North,

Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
By each gun the lighted brand,

In a bold determin'd hand,

And the Prince of all the land

Led them on.

Like Leviathans, afloat,

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime.

As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath,
For a time.

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd
O'er the deadly space between.

VOL. IV.

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