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Why weep ye sae for worthlessness,
For sorrow, and for sin?

I'm weary o' this warld, Willie,
And sick wi' a' I see,

I canna live as I hae lived,

Or be as I should be.

But fauld unto your heart, Willie,

The heart that still is thine,

And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek
Ye said was red langsyne.

A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie-
A sair stoun' through my heart;
Oh, haud me up, and let me kiss

That brow ere we twa pairt.

Anither, and anither yet!

How fast my life-strings break!-Fareweel, fareweel! through yon kirkyard Step lichtly for my sake!

The laverock in the lift, Willie,
That lilts far ower our heid,
Will sing the morn as merrilie

Abune the clay-cauld deid;

And this green turf we're sittin' on,
Wi' dew-draps shimmerin' sheen,
Will hap the heart that luvit thee
As warld has seldom seen.

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WEARIE'S WELL.

In a saft simmer gloamin',
In yon dowie dell,

It was there we twa first mct,

By Wearie's cauld well. We sat on the broom bank, And looked in the burn, But sidelang we look'd on Ilk ither in turn.

The corneraik was chirming
His sad eerie cry,

And the wee stars were dreaming
Their path through the sky;
The burn babbled freely

Its love to ilk flower,

But we heard and we saw nought In that blessed hour.

We heard and we saw nought,
Above or around;

We felt that our love lived,
And loathed idle sound.

I gazed on your sweet face
Till tears filled my e'e,
And they drapt on your wee loof-
A warld's wealth to me.

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And though thy bosom should with grief be | And, oh! the thundering presse of knightes, swelling,

Let no tear start;

It were in vain, for time hath long been knelling-
Sad one, depart!

THE CAVALIER'S SONG.

A steed! a steed of matchlesse speed!
A sword of metal keene!

All else to noble heartes is drosse--
All else on earth is meane.

The neighynge of the war-horse prowde,
The rowlinge of the drum,

The clangour of the trumpet lowde-
Be soundes from heaven that come.

When as their war-cryes swelle,
May tole from heaven an angel bright,

And rowse a fiend from hell.

Then mounte! then mounte, brave gallants all,
And don your helmes amaine;

Deathe's couriers, fame and honour, call
U's to the field againe.

No shrewish tears shall fill our eye

When the sword-hilt's in our hand;
Hearte-whole we'll parte, and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land.

Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus weepe, and puling crye;
Our businesse is like men to fighte,
And like to heroes, die!

DAVID MACBETH MOIR.

BORN 1798- DIED 1851.

shrewdness, and exhibition of genuine Scottish character. Moir's biographer says of this entertaining autobiography: "Burns has almost completely missed those many peculiar features of the national character and manners which are brought out so inimitably in Mansie Wauch. Mansie himself is a perfect portraiture; and how admirably in keeping with the central autobiographer are the characters and scenes which revolve around his needle!"

DAVID MACBETH MOIR, an accomplished and it was greatly relished for its simplicity, poet and miscellaneous writer, was born at Musselburgh, Jan. 5, 1798. He received his education at the grammar-school of his native town, and subsequently attended the medical classes of the University of Edinburgh. In his eighteenth year he obtained the diploma of surgeon, and entered into partnership with Dr. Brown of Musselburgh. Dr. Moir wrote verses from an early age, and in 1816 published anonymously a volume called The Bombardment of Algiers, and other Poems, which In 1831 appeared Outlines of the Ancient was distributed almost wholly amongst his History of Medicine. During the fearful visifriends. From its commencement he was a tation of cholera which swept over Europe at contributor to Constable's Edinburgh Maga- this time, when many physicians abandoned zine, and during a long series of years wrote their duty in despair or fled from it in terror, for Blackwood's Magazine, subscribing his Moir was to be found daily and hourly at the graver pieces for the latter with the Greek letter bedsides of the infected, endeavouring to alle▲ (Delta). In 1824 he published his Legend viate the sufferings of the sick by the resources of Genevieve, with other Tales and Poems, of his skill, or to comfort the dying with the which comprised selections from his contribu- consolations of religion. In 1832 he issued a tions to the magazines and several new pieces. pamphlet entitled Practical Observations on His next volume was an admirable imitation Malignant Cholera, which he followed by of the style of Galt, under the title Auto- | Proofs of the Contagion of Malignant Cholera. biography of Mansie Waugh, Tailor in Dal- In 1943 another volume of poems appeared, kith. Most of this amusing book had pre- entitled Domestic Verses. In 1851 he deviously appeared in Blackwood's Magazine,livered a course of six lectures at the Edin

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DAVID MACBETH MOIR, an accomplished and it was grea^. poet and miscellaneous writer, was born at Musselburgh, Jan. 5, 1798. He received his education at the grammar-school of his native town, and subsequently attended the medical classes of the University of Edinburgh. his eighteenth year he obtained the diploma are of surgeon, and entered into partnership with M Dr. Brown of Musselburgh. Dr. Moir

verses from an early age, and in 1816 lished anonymously a volume called The bardment of Algiers, and other Poems, was distributed almost wholly among friends. From its commencement he contributor to Constable's Edinburg) zine, and during a long series of yes for Blackwood's Magazine, subseril graver pieces for the latter with the Gr

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