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BIRD of the wilderness,
Blythesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea ;
Emblem of happiness,
Bless'd is thy dwelling-place: Oh, to abide in the desert with thee !
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud ; Loves gives it energy, love gave it birth!
Where on the dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and mountain sheen,
O’er moor and mountain green, O’er the red streamer that heralds the day
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Then when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Bird of the wilderness,
Bless'd is thy dwelling-place:
HAP AND ROW.
WILLIAM CREECH, born 1745, died 1815.
WE'LL hap and row, we'll hap and row,
We'll hap and row the feetie o't;
I downa bide the greetie o't.
And we pat on the wee bit pan,
To boil the lick o' meatie o't;
And burnt a' the feetie o't.
Fu' sair it grat, the pair wee brat,
And aye it kick'd the feetie o't,
And then began the sleepie o't.
When it gaed to the sleepie o't;
They're round about the feetie o't.
THE MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.
Sir WALTER Scott. Written for “ Albyn's Anthology," 1816.
Air-“Thain a' Grigalach."
THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae, And the clan has a name that is nameless by day:
Then gather, gather, gather, Grigulach ! &c.
Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew,
Then halloo, halloo, halloo, Grigalach !
We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach! But, doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord, Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword:
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach ! Jf they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roof to the flames and their flesh to the eagles :
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach ! While there's leaves on the forest, or foam on the river, Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever:
Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach! Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer; And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt, Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt:
Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach !
DONALD CAIRD'S COME AGAIN!
SIR WALTER Scott. From “ Albyn's Anthology."
Air-“ Malcolm Caird's come again."
Donald Caird's come again!
SIR WALTER SCOTT. From “Rokeby."
ALLEN-A-DALE has no fagot for burning,
The baron of Ravensworth prances in pride,
Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight,
Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come, The mother she ask'd of his household and home : “ Though the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall,” quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles !" said Allen-a-Dale.
The father was steel, and the mother was stone,