LOCHABER NO MORE.

FAREWELL to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean,
Where heartsome with thee I hae mony day been ;
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more!
These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear,
And no for the dangers attending on wear,
Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind, They'll ne'er make a tempest Hike that in my mind;

Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar, That's naething like leaving my love on the shore, To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pained; By ease that's inglorious no fame can be gained; And beauty and love's the reward of the brave, And I must deserve it before I can crave.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, — yea, glad with all my hearte, That thus so cleanly I myselfe can free. Shake hands forever! cancel all our vows ;

And when me meet at any time againe,
Be it not seene in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retaine.

Now at the last gaspe of Love's latest breath-
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now! if thou wouldst when all have given
him over-

From death to life thou mightst him yet re

cover.

MICHAEL DRAYTON.

FAREWELL! THOU ART TOO DEAR. FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting! And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,

!

Say may say nay! for shame!

To save thee from the blame

Of all my grief and grame.

And wilt thou leave me thus ?

Say nay say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long,
In wealth and woe among?
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus ?

Say nay say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath given thee my heart,
Never for to depart,
Neither for pain nor smart?
And wilt thou leave me thus ?

But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine
Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine,
Has shrouded its fires forever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
Each star is to me a sealed book,
And my heart grows full of weeping;

Some tale of that loved one keeping.
We parted in silence, we parted in tears,
On the banks of that lonely river:
But the odor and bloom of those bygone years
Shall hang o'er its waters forever.

And still on that evening when Pleasure fills up To the high st top sparkle each heart and each

cup,

Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, My soul, happy friends! will be with you that night;

Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your

wiles,

And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles

Too blest if it tell me that, mid the gay cheer, Some kind voice has murmured, "I wish he were here!

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot

destroy;

Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features which joy used to

wear.

Long, long be my heart with such memories filled! Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled

You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

THOMAS MOORE.