Go ask my minstrels, when they breathe
The verse the poet's pen

With each Parnassian sweet hath wreath'd,
If I forget thee then.

Forget thee!-Oh, there is but one
Could from my memory chase
Each sweet charm I've gazed upon,
Each softly winning grace.
To be that one's, my first, first vow,
I pledg'd with infant breath,
And he comes to demand me now,
That rival, love—is death!

Forget thee!-when my funeral urn
Thy tearful gaze shall meet,
And censers of aroma burn,

Exhaling at my feet:

When winds and storms careering sweep

Unheeded o'er my breast,

And cypress waves-then turn and weep,

And own my love's at rest!

SMILE AGAIN, MY BONNY LASSIE.

SMILE again my bonnie lassie,

Lassie smile again,

Prithee do not frown, sweet lassie,

For it gives me pain.

If to love thee too sincerely

Be a fault in me,

Thus to use me so severely,

Is not kind in thee.

Fare thee well, my bonny lassie,
Lassie, fare thee well,

Time will show thee, bonny lassic,

More than tongue can tell.
Tho' we're doom'd by fate to sever,

(And 'tis hard to part,)

Still, believe me, thou shalt ever

Own my faithful heart.

RETURN, O MY LOVE.

RETURN, O my love! and we'll never part,
While the morn her soft light shed,
I'll hold thee fast to my virgin heart,

And my bosom shall pillow thy head.

The breath of the woodbine is on my lips,
Impearl'd in the dews of May;

And no one but thou of its sweetness shall sip,
Or steal its honey away.

CANST THOU LOVE ME, MARY?

CANST thou love me, Mary?

Wilt thou love me, Mary?
Didst thou love me, Mary,

Blest I'd be !

Nae greater gift can Heav'n bestow,
Thou art sae dear to me.

Thou hast stown my heart, O Mary dear,
With thy bewitching e'e,

And though a lowly cottage maid,

Thou'rt a' the world to me!

When first the moon peeps o'er the hill,

This night O steal to me,

And by two dazzling stars, thy e'en,
I swear I'll wedded be.

WHEN FIRST HE WOO'D AND WON MY LOVE.

WHEN first he woo'd and won my love,
How sweetly passed the time away!
I little thought those hours would prove
Like sunshine on an April day.
But soon the light of joy was o'er,

And clouded every hope of bliss,
And love and fortune smil'd no more,
And sad was then our parting kiss.
But the clouds are gone,

And the sun will shine,
And the merry bells ring,
When my love is mine.

OH, WAS I TO BLAME TO LOVE HER.

Он, was I to blame to love her?

Oh, was I to blame to love her?

So gentle, so kind, I could not be blind,

I am not to blame to love her.

My heart it may break with sorrow,

My heart it may break with sorrow,

'Tis lost for her sake, no complaints will I make, Tho' my heart it may break with sorrow.

Oh, saw you yon tree's sweet blossom,
Oh, saw you yon tree's sweet blossom,

Like me in thy sight, I will fade with the blight,
Oh, blame not my love but the blossom.

Oh, pride of my heart, I love thee!

Ob, pride of my heart, I love thee!

The zephyrs, the sky, may change, but not I,
Oh, blame not this heart 'cause it loves thee.

WHEN THY BOSOM.

WHEN thy bosom heaves a sigh,
When the tear o'erflows thine eye,
May sweet hope afford relief,
Cheer thy heart and calm thy grief.

So the tender flower appears
Drooping wet with morning tears,
Till the sun-beam's genial ray
Chase the heavy dew away.

THE PERSECUTED.

Oh angel! thine be threefold bliss in heaven,
For thou on this dark earth hast much forgiven.

IT was a bitter pain

That pierced her gentle heart;

For barbed by malice was the dart,

And sped with treachery's deadliest art,

The shaft ne'er sped in vain.

That trusting heart, so true,
(For guile it never knew!)

The tender heart that ever clung

Where its wild wreath of love was flung-
The proud high heart that could have borne
All, save that false, unrighteous scorn-
It writhed beneath the stroke
Of that strange, cruel wrong:
Yet not-not then it broke-
For brave it was and strong!
'Twas like the startled dove,
Scared from her woody nest-
Her sheltered home of love,

Deep in the mountain's breast:
When first she mounts, the caverns ring
To the wild flapping of her wing;
But once aloft, she cleaves the light,
And floats in calm, unruffled flight.
Thus struggling o'er the woe to rise,
The stricken, heart-distempered flies-
Thus soars at last, its pain and peril o'er,
Serene in tranquil pride, to fear the shaft no more.

THE MAIDEN I LOVE.

THE maiden I love is the theme of my lay,

She is blooming and fair as the morn just begun, Her eyes soft and bright as the first beam of day,

And her ringlets like dark clouds that curl round the sun.

Like heaven's own light, when heaven is most bright,

Her smiles such a brilliancy every where throw;

In the depth of her eyes a divinity lies,

And a god seems to dwell on her beautiful brow.

Such, such is the maiden I live to adore,

And I prize her the wealth of the world above;
I have told her I've sworn all this o'er and o'er,
Yet she smiles on my sorrow and not on my love.

The hope of my heart may in sadness depart,
While it beats it will cherish her memory still,
Though its efforts may die, and its best feelings lie,
Like the ocean round Hecla, eternally chill.

THE IMPATIENT LASSIE.

DEUCE tak the clock, click-clackin sae,
Still in a body's ear;

It tells and tells the time is past

When Jonnie should been here:
Deuce tak the wheel, 'twill not rin round,
Nae mair to-neet* I'll spin,

But count each minute wi' a sigh,

Till Jonnie he steals in.

How nice the spunky+ fire it burns

For twice to sit beside!

And there's the seat where Johnnie sits,

And I forget to chide!

My father, too, how sweet he snores!

My mother's fast asleep :

He promis'd oft: but, oh! 1 fear
His word he wunnet§ keep!

What can it be keeps him frae me?

The ways are not so lang;

And sleet and snow are nought at a',
If yen were fain to gang!
Some ither lass, wi' bonnier feace,

Has catch'd his wicked e'e,
And I'll be pointed at at kirk—
Nay! suiner¶ let me dee!

O durst we lasses nobbut*
** gang
And sweetheart them we like,
I'd rin to thee, my Jonnie, lad,
Nor stop at bog or dike!
But custom's sic†† a silly thing,
For men mun hae their way,
And mony a bonnie lassie sit,
And wish frae day to day.

But whisht! I hear my Jonnie's foot-
Aye, that's his verra clog!

IIe stecks the faul-yeat§§ softly too-
O hang that colley dog!

*To-night.

Sooner.

+ Cheerful. + Two. ** But only. ++ Such.

? Will not. ++ Shuts.

|| One.

?? Foldgate.