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Bonald Caird's Come Again.1

Steek the amrie, lock the kist,

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Else some gear may weel be mis't;
Donald Caird finds orra things
Where Allan Gregor fand the ting;
Dunts of kebbuck, taits o' woo,
Whiles a hen and whiles a sow,
Webs or duds frae hedge or yard-
'Ware the wuddie, Donald Caird!

Donald Caird's come again! Donald Caird's come again! Dinna let the Shirra ken

. Donald Caird's come again.

On Donald Caird the doom was stern,
Craig to tether, legs to airn;
But Donald Caird, wi' mickle study,
Caught the gift to cheat the wuddie;
Rings of airn, and bolts of steel,
Fell like ice frae hand and heel!
Watch the sheep in fauld and glen,
Donald Caird's come again!

Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Dinna let the Justice ken,
Donald Caird's come again.s

From the Heart of Mid, Lothian.


WHEN the gledd's in the blue cloud,
The lavrock lies still;

When the hound's in the green-wood,
The hind keeps the hill.

O sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said,
When ye suld rise and ride?
There's twenty men, wi' bow and blade,
Are seeking where ye hide.

Hey for cavaliers, ho for cavaliers,
Dub a dub, dub a dub;
Have at old Beelzebub,-
Oliver's running for fear.-

1 Written for Albyn's Anthology, vol. ii., 1818, and set to highly amused with a sly allusion to his two-fold character of music in Mr. Thomson's Collection, in 1822

9 Caird signifies Tinker.

8 Mr. D. Thomson, of Galashiels, produced a parody on this song at an annual dinner of the manufacturers there, which Sir Walter Scott usually attended; and the Poet was

Sheriff of Selkirkshire, and author-suspect of "Rob Roy," in the chorus,

"Think ye, does the Shirra ken

Rob M'Gregor's come anaia"

I glance like the wildfire through country and town;
I'm seen on the causeway-I'm seen on the down;
The lightning that flashes so bright and so free,
Is scarcely so blithe or so bonny as me.

Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.

"As Jeanie entered, she heard first the air, and then a part of the chorus and words of what had been,

What did ye wi' the bridal ring-bridal ring-bridal perhaps, the song of a jolly harvest-home." ring?

What did ye wi' your wedding ring, ye little cutty

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Our work is over-over now,

The goodman wipes his weary brow,
The last long wain wends slow away.
And we are free to sport and play.

The night comes on when sets the sun,
And labour ends when day is done.
When Autumn 's gone, and Winter's come,
We hold our jovial harvest-home.

"The attendant on the hospital arranged her in her bed as she desired, with her face to the wall, and her back to the light. So soon as she was quiet in this new position, she began again to sing in the same low and modulated strains, as if she was recovering the state of abstraction which the interruption of her visitants had disturbed. The strain, however, was dif ferent, and rather resembled the music of the methodist hymns, though the measure of the song was similar to that of the former: ".

When the fight of grace is fought,—
When the marriage vest is wrought,—

When Faith has chased cold Doubt away, -
And Hope but sickens at delay,—
When Charity, imprisoned here,
Longs for a more expanded sphere;
Doff thy robs of sin and clay;
Christian, rise, and come away.

"Her next seemed to be the fragment of some old ballad:"

Cauld is my bed, Lord Archibald,
And sad my sleep of sorrc:
But thine sall be as sad and cauld,
My fause true-love! to-morrow

And weep ye not, my maidens free,
Though death your mistress borrow;
For he for whom I die to-day,

Shall die for me to-morrow

"Again she changed the tune to one wilder, tess monotonous, and less regular. But of the words only a fragment or two could be collected by those who listened to this singular scene :"

Proud Maisie is in the wood,

Walking so early;

Sweet Robin sits on the bush,

Singing so rarely.

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From the Bride of Lammer


"THE silver tones of Lucy Ashton's voice mingled with the accompaniment in an ancient air, to which some one had adapted the following words :

Look not thou on beauty's charming,-
Sit thou still when kings are arming,-
Taste not when the wine-cup glistens,-
Speak not when the people listens,-
Stop thine ear against the singer,-
From the red gold keep thy finger,-
Vacant heart, and hand, and eye,
Easy live and quiet die.


(1.)-CHAP. XIX.

To man, in this his trial state,

The privilege is given,

When lost by tides of human fate,

To anchor fast in Heaven.

Watts' Hymns.


Law, take thy victim!-May she find the mercy In yon mild heaven which this hard world denies her!


And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger, bind In sad alliance, each degraded mind.

(4.)-CHAP. XXXV.

I beseech you

(2.)-NORMAN THE FORESTER'S SONG. "AND humming his rustic roundelay, the yeoman went on his road, the sound of his rough voice gradu. ally dying away as the distance betwixt them in creased."

THE monk must arise when the matins ring,
The abbot may sleep to their chime;

But the yeoman must start when the bugles sing, 'Tis time, my hearts, 'tis time.

There 's bucks and raes on Billhope braes, There's a herd on Shortwood Shaw; But a lily white doe in the garden goes, She 's fairly worth them a'.


"WITH a quivering voice, and a cheek pale with

These tears beseech you, and these chaste hands apprehension, Caleb faltered out the following lines:"

woo you,

That never yet were heaved but to things holy-
Things like yourself-You are a God above us;
Be as a God, then, full of saving mercy!
The Bloody Brother.

(5.)-CHAP. XLVI.

Happy thou art! then happy be,

Nor envy me my lot;

Thy happy state I envy thee.

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And peaceful cot.

Lady CCI.

The hearth in hall was black and dead, No board was dight in bower within,



Nor merry bowl nor welcome bed;

Old Ballad,
[Altered from "The Heir of Linne."]

thirty inches in height, she accompanied it with her "Here 's sorry cheer," quoth the Heir of Linne. voice. The air was an ancient Gaelic melody, and the words, which were supposed to be very old, were in the same language; but we subjoin a translation of them, by Secundus M'Pherson, Esq. of Glenforgen; which, although submitted to the fetters of English rhythm, we trust will be found nearly as genuine aa the version of Ossian by his celebrated namesake."

(2.)-CHAP. XIV.

As, to the Autumn breeze's bugle-sound,
Various and vague the dry leaves dance their round;
Or, from the garner-door, on æther borne,
The chaff flies devious from the winnow'd corn;
So vague, so devious, at the breath of heaven,
From their fix'd aim are mortal counsels driven.

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The Legend of Montrose.



"TUNING her instrument, and receiving an assenting look from Lord Monteith and Allan, Annot Lyle executed the following ballad, which our friend, Mr.

"So saying, Annot Lyle sate down at a little dis-
tance upon the bench on which Allan M'Aulay was
placed, and tuning her clairseach, a small harp, about | Secundus M'Pherson, whose goodness we had before

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Is this thy castle, Baldwin? Melancholy Displays her sable banner from the donjon, Dark'ning the foam of the whole surge beneath Were I a habitant, to see this gloom

Pollute the face of nature, and to hear

The ceaseless sound of wave and sea-bird's scream,
I'd wish me in the hut that poorest peasant
Ere framed to give him temporary shelter.


This was the entry, then, these stairs-but whither

Yet he that 's sure to perish on the land
May quit the nicety of card and compass,
And trust the open sea without a pilot.

Tragedy of Brennovait

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