Every charm more finely heighten'd,
Fix'd my raptured, wondering eyes!
Every grace divinely brighten'd,
Held my soul in sweet surprise;
O! I could have gazed my last,
On her bosom heaving fast-
Met her eyes benignly bright,
With ever-growing new delight.
Who'd not bear a separation
Thus again to fondly meet,
And to find no alteration,

Save the heart's more ardent beat?
Thus, the same soft hand to grasp,
Thus the same fair form to clasp,
Thus the same warm lips to kiss—
O, say, can Heaven give more than this?

ALEXANDER Rodger.

O THINK IT NOT STRANGE.

O THINK it not strange that my soul is shaken,
By every note of thy simple song;

These tears, like a summoning spell, awaken
The shades of feelings that slumber'd long.
There's a hawthorn tree, near a low-roof'd dwelling;
A meadow green, and a river clear;

A bird, that its summer-eve tale is telling;
And a form unforgotten-they all are here.

They are here, with dark recollections laden,
From a sylvan scene o'er the weary sea;
They speak of the time when I parted that maiden,
By the spreading boughs of the hawthorn tree.
We sever'd in wrath-to her low-roof'd dwelling,
She turn'd with a step which betray'd her pain—
She knew not the love that was fast dispelling

The gloom of his pride, who was her's in vain.

We met never more-and her faith was plighted,
To one who could not her value know;
The curse that still clings to affections blighted,
Tinctured her life's cup with deepest wo.

And these are the thoughts which thy tones awaken,
The shades of feelings that slumber'd long-
Then think it not strange, that my soul is shaken
By every note of that simple song.

W. KENNEDY.

COME TO THE BANKS OF CLYDE.

AIR-" March to the battle field."

COME to the Banks of Clyde,

Where health and joy invite us;
Spring, now, in virgin pride,
There waiteth to delight us:

Enrobed in green, she smiles serene-
Each eye enraptured views her;
A brighter dye o'erspreads her sky,
And every creature woos her.

Come to the Banks of Clyde,
Where health and joy invite us;
Spring, now, in virgin pride,

There waiteth to delight us.

Mark how the verdant lea,

With daisies she is strewing;

Hark! now, on every tree,

The birds their mates are wooing:

Love wakes the notes that swell their throats,

Love makes their plumage brighter;

Old Father Clyde, in all his pride,

Ne'er witness'd bosoms lighter;

Mark! how the verdant lea,

With daisies she is strewing;

Hark! how, on every tree,

The birds their mates are wooing.

ALEX. RODger.

WHAT THE BODY WANTED WI' ME.

A CARL cam' to our town,

Whan little we war thinkin',
Wi' a rung out ower his riggin',
Like a pedlar cam' he linkin'.
As he hanker'd at the ha' door,

Sic pauky blinks he gae me,-
That I wonder'd in my mind,

What the body wanted wi' me.

He said he was a lairdie,

O' riggs and roughness plenty,
His stack-yard, and his stable stow'd
Wi' corn and couts fu' dainty;
And for a "serie something,"

Had he wauchled wast to see me

Still I wonder'd in my mind,

What the body wanted wi' me.

He took me by the hand so shy,
And fain wad stoun a prievin,
But I started like a stunkart quey,
To see him sae behavin':
"Be kind," quo he, "my lassie leel,
Nor be sae fain to flee me;"
Syne I hanker'd in my mind,
What the body wanted wi' me.

I bade the cadgie carl devawl,
And aye his aim was speerin';

"I'll tarry nane to tell," quoth he,
"The ettle o' my eeran :

I'm coothly come your luve to win-
Frae dool and doubting free me;"
And sighing said "the bridal bed"
Was what he wanted wi' me.

When youth and beauty were my boast,
I then had lovers plenty,

But sair I've rued my scorn sinsyne,
When offers turn'd but scanty;

I laid a laithfu' loof in his

But fain the fool was o' me,
Death left me lady of his lan',
Before a towmond wi' me.

Now back comes beauty wi' a bang-
For walth the wrinkle covers;

As ance mysel', my siller now,

Has charms, and choice o' lovers ;
But let them gang the gate they cam,
Their flattering winna fee me;
I'll hugg my hoard, an' beet my banes,
Wi' what they're wanting wi' me.

G. MACINDOE.

JOCK, RAB, AND TAM;

OR, NATURAL REQUISITES FOR THE LEARNED PROFESSIONS.

"OH what'll we do wi' Jock, gudeman?

It's like he'll ne'er do weel

He's aye at the head of a' mischief,

And just as cunnin's the Deil."

"Ah! hech he'll yet be a man, gudewife, O' whilk we'll baith be proud—

We'll gie the callan a while o' the schule,
An' he'll be a lawyer gude!"

"An' what'll we do wi' Rab, gudeman—
An' how will he win his bread?

To plow and saw, to shear and maw,
He hasna hands nor head!"

"Ah! hech! he'll yet be a man, gudewife, O' whilk we'll baith be proud

We'll gie the callan a while o' the schule,
An' he'll be a doctor gude!"

"But what'll we do wi' Tam, gudeman,
It dings me maist of a'!

A gapin', glourin', witless coof,

He's gude for nocht ava'!"

Ah! hech he'll yet be a man, gudewife,
O' whilk we'll baith be proud-

We'll gie the callan a while o' the schule,
An' he'll be a minister gude !"

ALEX. LAING.

THE LAKE IS AT REST.

AIR-"Angels whisper."

THE lake is at rest, love,

The sun's on its breast, love;
How bright is its water, how pleasant to see!
Its verdant banks showing

The richest flow'rs blowing

A picture of bliss, and an emblem of thee:

Then oh! fairest maiden,
When earth is array'd in

The beauties of heaven, o'er mountain and lea;
Let me still delight in

The glories that brighten,

For they are, dear Anna, sweet emblems of thee.