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Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O,
To the river winding clear,
To the fragrant scented breer,
Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O.
When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O,
Of thy lover on his bier,
To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O.
In summer blooms the white moss-rose,
Yet peerless as celestial-rose,
When youth smiled round my yellow locks,
How light the golden days wing'd on
Yes, weeping friends! when fell disease
Ye little dream'd this throbbing heart
How angel-like the drooping maid,
I call'd upon my love, and wept,
The struggle's o'er!-yon chesnut showers
THE damsel who roams like a bee 'mongst the flowers, And kills with her glances each youth flitting round, As she flaunts through the gala of morn's rosy hours,
May be chill'd by detraction, where rivals abound: Ruffled flowers court decay
Early blown-soon away—
When fresh beauties range round in the garden of life, Never more will yon maid,
Who now droops in the shade,
Be cared for or courted by you for a wife.
SMILE THROUGH THY TEARS.
The debtor when stripp'd by some rogue of his all, 'S turn'd adrift on the world, former friends seem his foes; While the caitiff who robb'd him, smiles over his fall,
And fattens, though drench'd from the dunghill he rose! Even those who were dear—
When prosperity's ear
Only heard of your worth, nor your foibles could traceRevile, slight, and shun ye,
In misery dun ye,
When the shorn-beams of favour glance cold in your face.
SMILE THROUGH THY TEARS.
SMILE through thy tears, like the blush moss-rose,
Smile through thy tears, like the pale primrose,
In me let thy trembling heart repose,
I will ward the sorrows that wound it.
Ere Henry slept, where the alders wave,
232 WELLBURN'S MARY.-PRINCE CHARLIE.
I mark'd the calm on her young fair face,
Of struggles that rush'd before it.
Each grief has its day:-love weep them away,
Balms the drooping flower, till the sun's bright ray
The flush o'er her fair face went and came,
I whisper'd hope, and the young god came,
In Wellburn garden, the white lilies bloom,
Eke the rose round the jessamine's twining; But they wither'd o'er Wellburn Mary's tomb, Ere the red winter sun there was shining.
THOUGH bonnie raise the winter moon,
Frae England, o'er the border:
Their dinsom pibrochs' melody,
Brought the tear frae mony an' e'e,
His diamond e'en, as black as sloes,
His teeth like ivory showing,
Beneath his bonnet flowing.
O mother! ye maun come an' see
Afore the morning early:—
Can bode sma' gude to Charlie.
The above Jacobite attempt was suggested after some conversation held with a poor woman, now in the 102d year of her age. In the memorable 1745, when Charles was upon his retreat from England, he pitched his tents for two nights and a day in her neighbourhood; and the second stanza of the foregoing, describes the Chevalier's personal appearance, such as then had been impinged upon her mind, and from which description she never deviates. The fortunes of the prince, so far as they came within the scope of our centarian's observations, are sufficiently interesting, but without our province in this place.