FRAGMENT.

UPON the Dee banks I walk lonely and sad, The Don's fertile valleys cannot make me glad; Keen recollection brings the past back anew,

And Ythan, dear Ythan, still flows in my view. How oft by the side of that calm flowing stream, Have I felt my fancy romanticly gleam;

Where Gight's hoary ruins stand high in the air; Where rudely-hung Horror* the eye scarce will dare;

Whose huge falling shadow ensables the wave, And winds hollow sigh in the mouth of its cave; Where deers of the mountain run wild in the

wood;

Where trees by the castle for ages have stood : Sublimely the height of the braes strikes the eye, And men on their tops look like men in the sky.

See Note, bottom of page 28.

YTHAN'S BANKS.*

AIR" Birkin Tree."

How sweet on Ythan's banks to stray,
At early morn or close of day,
When Flora decks the fields all gay

With fragrance blooming fair!
There are scenes of grandeur,
Dress'd in Nature's splendour;

Fair maids there oft wander

To breathe the balmy air.

Yes, there are maids on Ythan's side
Whom London's town would count a pride;
May innocence aye be their guide,

And prudence their chief care!

✦ The above Song was written at the request of a young Man, leaving his native country for America, when the Author was scarcely eleven years of age.

Let base falsehood never

Peace and them dissever;

May it flourish ever

Within each bosom there!

Amongst them one is, o'er the rest,
To whom my love has been confess'd;
Her charms I can no more resist,

Than tell what day I'll die.

She's a charming creature,

Fair in every feature

Sure she's been form'd, Nature!
Thy utmost skill to try.

Alas! the time is nearly come,
When I must leave my native home,
And far from my loved river roam,
And from my dearest dear.
Through my soul grief's darting;
Keenly I feel smarting,

When I think of parting

That coming hour, how drear!

WAR SONG.

YET at a distance stands the foe, While Britain's bands impatient glow With hopes to strike the final blow, And end the reign of Tyranny!

Our brave commander, "Heroes!" cries, Lifting up to Heaven his eyes, "Let all your hearts and spirits rise: 'Tis come-the hour for Liberty!

"Then to your armour firmly stand; Think on the cause ye have in hand! Shall any stranger rule this land,

Subjecting it to Slavery!

But now, the armies haste to meet; The dale bends, shaking 'neath the feet Of the swift coursers, rushing fleet

To meet their doubtful destiny!

E

In air the armour brightly gleams,

Quick flashing blue like lightning's streams! While, in the most unholy screams,

The cry of war sounds horribly!

The polish'd steel now shines no more;
'Tis clotted dim with human gore!
Yet wilder swells the battle's roar,

And victory's hanging dubiously.

At last the foe's left wing gives way,
Upon his right spreads wild dismay;
Hark! hark! the shout-we gain the day-
'Tis Britain has the victory!

Mournful o'er the war-beat plain,
Thick lie the wounded and the slain!
May never such a day again

Spread sorrow and calamity!