III.

An' dinna, dinna greet, sister,

Sae bitterly and sair;

Cast the tear-drap frae your een, sister,
An' mine shall weep nae mair.
Oh, never mair we'll name the name

O' this fause luve o' mine,

But we'll turn again unto our hame,

An' the memory o' langsyne.

IV.

But dinna, dinna curse him, father,
Ye kenna what ye do;

Oh, think upo' the time, father,
When he was gude an' true:
Or if that bitter word maun steal
Frae lips where blessings be,

Oh, bless the head I luve sae weel,
An' fa' that curse on me!

EVENING.*

BY MISS E. L. MONTAGU.

The holy eve, as quiet as a nun,
Breathless with adoration.

WORDSWORTH.

SWEET is the close of this soft summer's eve

When the last setting, social hour doth stamp
The crown-mark on the day; when those who grieve
Forget their voice of woe, and, like a lamp,

We burn the oil of gladness in our hearts

To light our face with smiles; - when to our souls
Each voice we love its melody imparts,

And the soft breath of peace around us rolls

Like odour on the breeze. Even now the shade,
That o'er my path the tree of sorrow threw,
Before the sun of brighter hope doth fade,

And flowers are springing where the wild weeds grew :
And I with song the watchful cares beguile,
And meet the gaze of sadness with a smile.

* In appending this little poem to Mr. Roberts's beautiful "Sunset," there is no intention of illustrating any thing beyond the mere sentiment of the picture. The scene is evidently an imaginary one; and if the effect reminds us of Claude, it is because it is a genuine imitation of nature. Since his return from Spain, Mr. Roberts has produced a splendid series of drawings, which have been worthily engraved in the "Landscape Annual" for the present year.