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 mailin plenish'd fairly :
Come then, 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 honour;
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.

WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES MY MARY.*

Tune-"The Ewe Bughts."

WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia's shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across the Atlantic's roar?

This is a juvenile production of the poet, and when he transmitted it for publication to Mr Thomson he wrote thus of its subject: "In my very early years, when I was thinking of going to the West Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear girl; it is quite trifling and has nothing of the merit of the Ewe Bughts. You must know that all my earlier love-songs were the

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine:

But a' the charms o' the Indies,
Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true,
And sae may the Heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow.

O plight me your faith my Mary,
And plight me your lily white hand:
O plight me your faith my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join,

And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour and the moment o' time!

THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.❤

Tune-"Captain o' Kain.”

THE small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the vale;
The hawthorn trees blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale:

breathings of ardent passion; and though it might have been easy in after times to have given them a polish, to me it would have defaced the legend of my heart, which was so faithfully inscribed on them. Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their race."-M.

*These admirable stanzas are supposed to be spoken by the young Prince Charles Edward, when wandering in the Highlands of Scotland after his fatal defeat at Culloden moor.-M.

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
While the lingering moments are number'd by care?
No flowers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair,

The deed that I dared could it merit their malice-
A king and a father to place on his throne?
His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.

But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn ;
Your deeds proved so loyal, in hot bloody trial,
Alas! can I make you no sweeter return!

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE, &c.*
"Tune-What can a young Lassie do wi' an auld Man ?”

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
To sell her poor Jenny for siller and lan'!

Bad luck on the pennie, &c.

* "The title of this song," says Mr Buchan, "is to be found in an old English collection of songs, and the best version of the song is what follows:

O Katy, dear Katy, I'll tell you what grieves me,
And for to advise me do all that you can;
If ye could relieve me a present I'd give you,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?

I canna get sleeping for sighing and weeping,
What shall I do Katy? O here take my fan;
My mind is sae crazy I'm dull and uneasy,

I am sae perplexed wi' a crazy auld man,

He's always compleenin frae mornin to e’enin,
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang ;
He's doy'lt and he's dozin, his bluid it is frozen,
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him, do a' that I can ;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows,
O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!

My mither she teazes me morning and e'ening,
My auntie she vexes me a' the day lang,
To marry the carle because o' his sillar,

But what can a lassie do wi' an auld man?

His heart it is cauld, and eke dull and hollow,
The hale o' his carcase is a' skin and bane;
For him and his money I carena a penny,

What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?

My Titty, the gipsy, (wha wouldna misca' her?)
On me takes nae pity, but joins wi' the clan,
And says,
I may never get sic a gude offer,
But what can a lassie do wi' an auld man?

Sweethearts I've got mony, but she hasna ony,

Sae weel's I can dive in the heart o' her plan;
Because she's neglected, my peace she has wrecket,
And plagues me to marry a doited auld man.

They keep me at hame frae the dance and the market,
Because I am some years younger than ANN;
The tawpie's their dawtie, and they for to please her,
Would sell a young lassie unto an auld man.

The rose in its splendour shall blaw in December,
The corbie and craw turn white as the swan,
The owl it shall sing like the linnet in spring,
Before that I marry a crazy auld man!

Miss Jean Allardyce of Pittenweem was the heroine of this song, which she addresses to her comrade, Miss Katherine Gordon of Wardass, in the year 1714.”—M.

My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;

I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.

THERE WAS A LASS.*

Tune-"Duncan Davison."

THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that follow'd her,

They ca'd him Duncan Davison.
The moor was dreigh, and Meg was skiegh,
Her favour Duncan couldna win;
For wi' the roke she wad him knock,
And aye she shook the temper-pin.

As o'er the moor they lightly foor,

A burn was clear, a glen was green,
Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks
And aye she set the wheel between ;
But Duncan swore a haly aith,

That Meg should be a bride the morn;
Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith,
And flang them a' out o'er the burn.

We'll big a house-a wee, wee house,
And we will live like king and queen,

Sae blythe and merry we will be

When ye set by the wheel at e'en.

* The last four lines of this song are only a little varied from the old spirited one, now rarely remembered.