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Last night the gifted seer did view

A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay ; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheugh:

Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?" “ 'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir

To-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my Lady-mother there

Sits lonely in her castle hall. 'Tis not because the ring they ride,

And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide,

If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle.”

O'er Roslin all that dreary night

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire light,

And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,

It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,

And seen from caverned Hawthornden.

Seemed all on fire that chapel proud,

Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie; Each baron, for a sable shroud,

Sheathed in his iron panoply.

Seemed all on fire within, around,

Deep sacristy and altar's pale ; Shone every pillar foliage-bound,

And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high,

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fairSo still they blaze, when fate is nigh

The lordly line of high St. Clair. There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold

Lie buried within that proud chapelle; Each one the holy vault doth hold

But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !

And each St. Clair was buried there,

With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung,

The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.




Bairnie diminutive of bairn, a | Airn-iron. child.

Lithlesscomfortless. Freckyeager, ready:

Siccan-such. Sairly forfairn-sorely distressed, Clutches-talons, claws. destitute.

Lo'e-love. Dowieworn out with grief. Mools-earth. Hapswraps, covers up.

Bannock-barley-cake. Hackit heelies-heels chapped with Couthilie—kindly.

the cold.

WHEN a'ither bairnies are hushed to their hame
By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame,
Wha stands last an' lanely, an' sairly forfairn ?
Tis the puir dowie laddie—the mitherless bairn!
The mitherless bairnie creeps to his lane bed,
Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head;
His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn,
An' lithless the lair o'the mitherless bairn!

Aneath his cauld brow, siccan dreams hover there,
O' hands that wont kindly to kaim his dark hair!
But morning brings clutches a' reckless an' stern,
That lo'e na the locks o' the mitherless bairn!

The sister who sang o'er his saftly rocked bed,
Now rests in the mools where their mammie is laid ;
While the faither toils sair his wee bannock to earn,
An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn!
Her spirit, that passed in yon hour of his birth,
Still watches his lone lorn wanderings rth,
Recording in heaven the blessings they earn,
Wha couthilie deal with the mitherless bairn!
Oh! speak him na harshly-he trembles the while,
He bends to your bidding, and blesses your smile:
In their dark hour o'anguish the heartless shall learn,
That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn!


ROBERT BURNS. ROBERT BURNS was born January 25th 1759, in a clay-built cottage, raised by his father's own hands, on the banks of the Doon, in the district of Kyle, Ayrshire. At the age of six he was sent to school, and appears to have been a diligent little student. At an early age he assisted his father in his farming business, continuing his

educa. tion at intervals. When about twenty, he composed several of the poems which after. wards distinguished his name. After various domestic trials, when on the point of leaving England for Jamaica, where he had got a situation, the publication of his poems awakened so much interest in their author, that he abandoned his purpose, and after an unsuccessful experiment in farming, obtained an appointment in the Excise. He died at Dumfries, in the year 1799, at the early age of 37 years.


Wa's-walls. Beastie-little beast. The termina- | Win's—winds. The final conson

tion ie marks the diminutive. ant is often omitted, as an' for Bickering brattle-hasty run. and, o' for of, &c. Laith-loth; as baith, both. Big-build. Pattlea small spade, used to clean Hoggage-long grass. the plough.

Snell--bitter. Whyles-sometimes.

Daimen icker- an ear of corn oc- Hald-abiding place, home.

Thrave—twenty-four sheaves. Cranreuchhoar-frost.
Lave-leaving, the rest.

No' thy lane—not alone.
Wee bit housie-little bit of a house. I Gang aft a-gley-go often wrong.

WEE, sleekit, cowerin', timorous beastie,
0, what a panic's in thy breastie !
Thou needna start awa sae hasty,

Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an'chase thee,

Wi' nurdering pattle !
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,

Which maks thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,

An' fellow mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave

'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,

And never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,

O’foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin',

Baith snell an' keen !

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An' weary winter comin' fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter pass'd

Out-thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble !
Now thou's turned out for a thy trouble,

But house or hald,

To thole the winter's sleety dribble

And cranreuch cauld !
But, Mousie, thou art no' thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes n' mice an' men,

Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,

For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, oh! I backward cast my e'e

On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,

I guess an' fear. 1. What was the occasion of these 5. Why was there the more pity of the beautiful lines?

mouse on this account? 2. What does the poet call himself in 6. Who often fail in their plans as well verse second ?

as the poor mouse? 3. Show me that this is correct in one 7. On what grounds did the bard call sense and not in another?

the mouse blest, compared with him? 4. At what season of the year did this 8. What makes us dread to look into incident take place?




ROBERT BURNS. The following remarks are by Dr. Currie, the early biographer of Burns;—“The Cotter's Saturday Night is tender and moral, solemn and devotional, and rises at length into a strain of grandeur and sublimity which modern poetry has not surpas

The noble sentiments of patriotism, with which it concludes, correspond with the rest of the poem. In no age or country have the pastoral muses breathed such elevated accents, if the Messiah of Pope be excepted, which is indeed a pastoral in form only." Sugh--the continued rushing noise Halesome-healthful, wholesome. of wind or water.

Hawkiemcow. Stacher-stagger.

Hallana particular partition wall Flichteringfluttering.

in a cottage. Ingle-fire.

Cood-cud. Belyveby and by.

Weel-hain'd-well-spared. Tentie-heedful, cautious.

Kebbuck-cheese. Bruw-fine, handsome.

Towmondtwelvemonth. Sair-sadly, sorely.

Sin' lint was the bell- since the Spiers-inquires.

flax was in flower. Üncos-news.

Big ha' Bible—the great Bible that Gars-makes.

lies in the hall. Claes-clothes.

Lyart haffets-gray temples. Eydent-diligent.

Wales-chooses. Jauk-trifle.

Beets-adds fuel to fire.

NOVEMBER chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ;

The short'ning winter day is near a close;
The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;

The black’ning trains o' craws to their repose ;

The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th’expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through

To meet their Dad, wi' flichtering noise an' glee. His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,
The lisping infant prattling on his knee,

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil.
Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,

At service out amang the farmers roun’;
Some ca’ the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin

A cannie errand to a neebor town:
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman growni,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown,

Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee,
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet,

An each for other's welfare kindly spiers :
The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;

Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;

Anticipation forward points the view;
The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
Their maister's an’ their mistress's command,

The younkers a'are warned to obey;
An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,

An' ne'er tho' out oʻsight, to jauk or play: "An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,

An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,

Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!” But now the supper crowns their simple board,

The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : The soupe their only hawkie does afford,

That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood ; The dame brings forth in complimental mood,

To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;

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