Again we rang'd through the forest free,
And sang our songs 'neath the greenwood tree,
Happy as only young hearts can be!

When many a year had roll'd away,

And mine auburn locks were tinged with gray, I homeward went on a joyous day.

And on to the hall I hurried fast,

And the green lanes knew me as I past,

And the old hills said, "Thou art come at last."

Again, as on the happy morn

I blew the hunter's bugle-horn,

And the sound through the leafy lane was borne.

With hope and fear my heart did bound,
But no one came at the welcome sound,
And Echo only answer'd round.

And I rush'd into the castle hall,

But I found, for the true hearts one and all,
But pictures hanging on the wall.

For the joyous ones were dead and gone,
And their names inscrib'd on a mould'ring stone
In the village churchyard old and lone.

And the forester was old and gray,
And he said, that like the flowers of May,
He saw them one by one decay.

And I sought once more the greenwood tree,
And I sat me down and sighed, "Ah me!"
Sorry as only old hearts can be!

SCOTLAND REVISITED, OR THE

WANDERER'S RETURN.

When mony a year had come and gane,
And I'd grown auld and hoary,
And mony a hope had proven vain,
And mony a dream o' glory;
Then backward to my childhood's hame
A weary langing sent me,

I found my native vale the same,
But very few that kent me.

There were the hills my childhood saw,
They look'd as if they knew me;
And well they might!--when far awa'
Oh how they did pursue me!
And there amang the broomy braes

I often paus'd and ponder'd
Upon the joys o' ither days,
Then on again I wander'd.

At length our cot appear'd in view, O weel I kent the biggin,

There was the same o'erhanging yew

And thack upon the riggin'; And there the winnock in the en' Wi' woodbine train'd sae trimly, And up aboon the cosie den

Reek swirlin' frae the chimly.

O how my heart leapt at the sicht,
Till I could hardly bear it;

I felt as if I wad gang gite,
For I was maist deleerit.
And hurrying to the sacred spot,

Ilk thump cam' quick and quicker,
I tried to pray, but in my throat
The words grew thick and thicker.
To hide my tears I vainly strove,
For nae ane cam' to meet me,
Nae mother wi' her look o' love,
Nae sister cam' tae greet me:
For gane were they, baith ane an' a',
The dear hearts that I cherish'd,
Gane, like the flowers o' spring awa',
Or like a vision perished.

This was the spot of all most dear,

Where all my dreams were centr'd;
And yet, wi' trembling and wi' fear,
Beneath that roof I enter'd.
There was the place my father sat,

Beside my mother spinning,
An' a' the bairns, wi' merry chat,
In joy around her rinning.
There in the cottage of my birth,
The same roof-tree above me,
I stood, a wanderer on the earth,
With nae ane left to love me.
Oh! I had often stood alone

On many a post of danger,
But never wept till standing on
My native hearth-a stranger!
I sought the auld kirkyard alane,
Where a' the lov'd are sleeping,
And only the memorial stane

Its watch aboon them keeping;
It only said that they were dead-
Once here, but now departed;
A' gane! a' gane! to their lang hame,
The true, the gentle-hearted.

O life, I cried, is all a woe,

A journey lang and dreary:

Is there nae hame to which we go,
Nae heart-hame for the weary?

I cleared the weeds frae aff the stane,
And lang I sat and ponder'd
Upon the days for ever gane,
Then weary on I wander d.

SIR WILLIAM STIRLING MAXWELL, Bart., an influential member of the Conservative party, was born at Kenmure, near Glasgow, March 8, 1818. He is the only son of the late Archibald Stirling of Keir, Perthshire, the representative of an old and wealthy family; his mother was a daughter of Sir John Maxwell, Bart., of Pollock, Renfrewshire. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated B. A. in 1839 and M. A. in 1843. Soon after he printed for private circulation a small volume of poems entitled The Songs of the Holy Land, composed chiefly during a visit to Palestine. Having turned his attention to the study of Spanish history, literature, and art, he resided some time in France and Spain for the prosecution of his researches. He wrote The Annals of the Artists of Spain, issued in three volumes in 1848; The Cloister Life of Charles V., published in 1852, for which he had carefully prepared himself by visiting the convent of Yuste, the place to which the monarch retired, as well as by a most diligent search for materials in the archives of France; Velasquez and his Works, issued in 1855; and The Chief Victories of the Emperor Charles V., designed by Martin Heimskerch in 1555, and now illustrated with portraits, prints, and notes: London, 1870, folio, privately printed.

At the general election in 1852 Stirling was returned to the House of Commons as member for Perthshire, which county he continues to represent. In 1865, by the death of his

maternal uncle Sir John Maxwell, he became heir to the baronetcy, and assumed the name of Maxwell. He was elected rector of St. Andrews University in 1863, when he received the degree of LL.D.; and he was honoured with the same high office by the University of Edinburgh in 1872. Three years later he was elected chancellor of the University of Glasgow as successor to the late Duke of Montrose. Sir William married in 1865 Lady Anna Maria Melville, third daughter of David, eighth earl of Leven and Melville, who died December 8, 1874, leaving two sons.

Among various published or privately-printed books edited or written by Sir William, may be mentioned Lemmata Proverbialia; Catalogues of Books relating to Proverbs, Emblems, and Ana, and to the Arts of Design, in the Library at Keir, 1860, two vols. 8vo; a handsome volume issued in 1873, entitled The Turks in 1533; a series of drawings made in that year at Constantinople by Peter Coeck of Aelst; and in 1875 two volumes folio, entitled The Entry of the Emperor Charles V. into Bologna, Nov. 5, 1529; and The Procession of Pope Clement VII. and the Emperor Charles V. on the occasion of the Coronation, Bologna, February 24, 1530. These magni

ficent series of engravings were drawn and designed the first by an anonymous Venetian, and the second by Nicholas Hogenberg, and have been reproduced in fac-simile from the very rare originals.

The golden smile of morning

On the hills of Moab play'd, When at the city's western gate

Their steps three women stay'd. One laden was with years and care, A gray and faded dame, Of Judah's ancient lineage,

And Naomi her name;

And two were daughters of the land, Fair Orpah and sweet Ruth,

Their faces wearing still the bloom,
Their eyes the light of youth;
But all were childless widows,

And garb'd in weeds of woe,
And their hearts were full of sorrow.
And fast their tears did flow.
For the Lord God from Naomi

Her spouse and sons had taken,
And she and these that were their wives,
Are widow'd and forsaken;

And wish or hope her bosom knows

None other but to die,
And lay her bones in Bethlehem,

Where all her kindred lie.
So gives she now upon the way

To Jordan's western waters-
Her farewell kisses and her tears

Unto her weeping daughters: "Sweet daughters mine, now turn again Unto your homes," she said, "And for the love ye bear to me, The love ye bear the dead, The Lord with you deal kindly,

And give you joy and rest, And send to each a faithful mate

To cheer her widow'd breast."

Then long and loud their weeping was,
And sore was their lament,
And Orpah kiss'd sad Naomi,
And back to Moab went;
But gentle Ruth to Naomi

Did cleave with close embrace,

And earnest spoke, with loving eyes
Up-gazing in her face-

"Entreat me not to leave thee,

Nor sever from thy side,
For where thou goest I will go,
Where thou bidest I will bide;
Thy people still my people,

And thy God my God shall be;
And where thou diest I will die,

And make my grave with thee."

So Naomi, not loath, was won

Unto her gentle will;
And thence with faces westward set,
They fared o'er plain and hill;
The Lord their staff, till Bethlehem
Rose fair upon their sight,

A rock-built town with towery crown,
In evening's purple light,
'Midst slopes in vine and olive clad,
And spread along the brook,
White fields, with barley waving,
That woo'd the reaper's hook.

Now for the sunny harvest field
Sweet Ruth her mother leaves,
And goes a-gleaning after

The maids that bind the sheaves.
And the great lord of the harvest
Is of her husband's race,

And looks upon the lonely one

With gentleness and grace;
And he loves her for the brightness
And freshness of her youth,
And for her unforgetting love,
Her firm enduring truth-

The love and truth that guided Ruth
The border mountains o'er,
Where her people and her own land
She left for evermore.

So he took her to his home and heart,
And years of soft repose
Did recompense her patient faith,
Her meekly-suffer'd woes;
And she became the noblest dame

Of palmy Palestine,

And the stranger was the mother
Of that grand and glorious line
Whence sprang our royal David,
In the tide of generations,
The anointed king of Israel,

The terror of the nations:

Of whose pure seed hath God decreed
Messiah shall be born,

When the day-spring from on high shall light
The golden lands of morn;

Then heathen tongues shall tell the tale

Of tenderness and truth

Of the gentle deed of Boaz,

And the tender love of Ruth.

THE ABDICATION OF CHARLES V.1

In Bruxelles Emperor Charles abode, fifth Cæsar of the name;

Weary with life's long toil was he, and rack'd with gout his frame;

His cheek was pale, his step was frail, seldom he crossed the door,

He could not rule as he had ruled in the good days of yore,

Nor meet the French in field and trench as he

was wont to do,

When o'er the Flemish border the lilied banner flew;

Wherefore he had devis'd and dealt to lay the burden down

Of pomp, and power, and majesty; of sceptre, orb, and crown;

And all his world-wide heritage, and all his sword had won,

To give unto Don Philip now, his dear and only son,

1 This poem is a translation of a Spanish ballad or romance, printed in the Cancionero General, Antwerp, 1577, descriptive of the abdication of the sovereignty of the Low Countries by the emperor at Brussels. The abdication took place in the same hall in which, more than forty years before, Charles had been presented by his aunt Margaret to a similar audience as reigning sovereign of the Netherlands.—ED.

Then Cæsar sat upon his throne with calm and gracious mien,

And right and left on either hand, bade sit the King and Queen;

And near the Queen the Duke was set; and down below, the floor

Scarce held the folk that throng'd to see, a

thousand souls and more.

So when the heralds silence call'd, the whispering hum was still,

And rose the Chancellor of the Fleece to speak the Emperor's will;

In weighty, well-grac'd words he said how
Caesar's Majesty
Would pass the evening of his days from broil
and battle free,

And giving to Don Philip now his royal place

and state,

Will'd that his loving people's will the gift should consecrate.

days in Spain.

From his first hour of royal power it had been his endeavour

Justice to mete and right to do with equal balance ever;

But if in absence, or by chance or frailty led astray,

Wrong he had done, he pray'd them all to pardon him that day:

And so he bade them all farewell, and left them to his son,

Their lord, whose rule in other realms the people's hearts had won;

This witting, he, for such a son, could joyfully lay down

The sacred trust he else had kept, of sceptre,

sword, and crown;

And last of all, in earnest wise three things he did commend

Unto their care, and bid them hold in honour to the end:

Their holy faith, their country's peace, their duty to their lord,

Who lov'd them, and would win their love: this was his parting word.

Then rose the King unbonneted, and stood before the throne,

And for his father's gracious words, and grace and favour done,

Gave thanks; and humbly kneeling down he sought to kiss his hand,

But Cæsar threw his arms about his neck and bade him stand;

And many a tear was shed the while by loving sire and son,

And by the Queen, and Duke, and Knights,

and nobles every one.

Next for the Cities and Estates a learned jurist spake,

And told the Emperor how well they were con

tent to take

His hopeful son their lord to be; whereon Don Philip bade

The reverend Lord of Arras speak, who cour

teous answer made.

Then last the good Queen Mary rose, of her long reign to tell,

And bid in fair and gentle speech her people all farewell;

Foremost of lands to make their land-for this she still had striven,

And now for faults and errors past she sued to be forgiven.

In courtly words th' Estates replied they mourn'd to see her go,

But with them still was law her will, and she

would have it so.

Wherewith the goodly company arose and went their way

As evening fell; and so the King became our Lord that day.

SHALLUM.

Oh, waste not thy woe on the dead, nor bemoan him, Who finds with his fathers the grave of his rest; Sweet slumber is his, who at night-fall hath thrown him

Near bosoms that waking did love him the best. But sorely bewail him, the weary world-ranger, Shall ne'er to the home of his people return; His weeping worn eyes must be closed by the stranger,

No tear of true sorrow shall hallow his urn. And mourn for the monarch that went out of Zion, King Shallum, the son of Josiah the Just; For he the cold bed of the captive shall die on, Afar from his land, nor return to its dust.

THOMAS CARSTAIRS LATTO, author of the fine song "When we were at the Schule," was born in the parish of Kingsbarns, Fifeshire, Dec. 1, 1819. His father, Alexander Latto, was the parish schoolmaster; his mother's name was Christina Anderson. After receiving his elementary education in his father's school Latto entered the University of St. Andrews, where he proved himself a good student during the five sessions that he continued there. In 1838 he went to Edinburgh, and entered the office of John Hunter, auditor of the Court of Session, where he acted as the Parliament House and conveyancing clerk. He was after wards employed in the office of William Mackenzie of Muriston, W.S., agent for the Duke of Sutherland and the Seaforth family. He subsequently acted as clerk to Professor Aytoun, and at a later period became managing clerk to a solicitor in Dundee. Latto in a letter to the Editor, dated May 10, 1872, says: “My connection with Professor Aytoun was merely nominal. I did no work for him, and received no compensation! . . . Hunter was a man of fine literary abilities, and would fain have been a poet, but lacked the power of expression. He was of the gentlest nature, and one of the most genial of men. Muriston was quite a character, and noted for his high temper, but

in the three years that I was with him-and I was constantly in his room-we never had a tiff. He did not require my presence after three o'clock, so that I was pretty much my own master. It was a great mistake I made when I left him to go to Dundee."

In 1852 Latto entered into business in Glasgow as a commission merchant, and subsequently went to New York. He adds: “My life since I came to America has not been very eventful, but it has been somewhat chequered. Poets, if I may reckon myself among the number, have rarely much of the money-making faculty, and in this regard I am a true rates. I have always, however, been prudent, steady, and careful; and if I have not commanded success, have at least endeavoured to deserve it. . . . I started the Scottish American Journal, a number of my friends taking shares, but the financial troubles of 1857 compelled me to leave the paper, which was continued and is now flourishing." Latto then entered the publishing house of Ivison & Co. of New York, where he remained for eleven years--"the most peaceful period of my life," he says. In 1871 he began business as a real-estate agent in Brooklyn, where he at present resides with his family.

Latto's first poetical effusions appeared in