SCOTS WHA HAE. BY ROBERT BURNS. A friend of Burns states this stirring poem was written during a frightful storm in the wilds of Glenken, in Galloway. was written in September, 1793. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour; It See approach proud Edward's pow'r- Wha will be a traitor-knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! MISCONCEPTIONS. BY ROBERT BROWNING. Oh, what a hope beyond measure Was the poor spray's which the flying feet hung to, So to be singled out, built in and sung to! This is a heart the Queen leant on Thrilled in a minute erratic, Ere the true bosom she bent on, Meet for love's regal dalmatic. Oh what a fancy ecstatic Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on! JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. BY ROBERT BURNS. John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And monie a canty day, John, |