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She saw the dear- the little cot,

Where fifteen years flew sweetly by! And mourn'd her shame, and hapless lot,

That forc'd her frae that hame to fly. Tho' sweet and mild the e'ening smil'd,

Her heart was rent wi' anguish keen; The mavis ceas'd his music wild,

And wonder'd what her sobs could mean,

It wasna kind to rob my mind

Of a' its peace for evermair;
To blot my name wi' burning shame,

And mak my parents' heart sae sair.
My hame how dare I enter now,

Ilk honour'd face in tears to see ; Where oft I kneel'd to hear the vow,

Was offer'd frae the heart for me!

And can I lo'e the treacherous man

Wha wrought this dear and deadly ill, Wha blurr’d wi' clouds my early dawn,

Ah! wae's my heart! I lo'e him still ! My heart abus’d, my love misus'd;

My wretched fate wi' tears I see : But maist I fear my parents dear

Gae mourning to the grave for me.



Well! thou art happy, and I feel

That I should thus be happy too, For still my heart regards thy weal,

Warmly, as it was wont to do.

Thy husband's blest- and 'twill impart

Some pangs to view his happier lot; But let them pass-oh! how my heart

Would hate him if he lov'd thee not !

When late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break, But when th' unconscious infant smil'd,

I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.

I kissed it and repress'd my sighs,

Its father in its face to see ; But then it had its mother's eyes,

And they were all to love and me.

Mary, adieu! I must away,

While thou art blest I'll not repine ! But near thee I can never stay,

My heart would soon again be thine.

I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride,

Had quench'd at length my boyish flame, Nor knew till seated by thy side,

My heart in all, -save hope,—the same.

Yet was I calm : I knew the time

My breast would thrill before thy look, Bnt now, to tremble were a crime,

We met and not a nerve was shook.

I saw thee gaze upon my face,

Yet meet with no confusion there ; One only feeling couldst thou trace,

The sullen calmness of despair.

Away'! away! my early dream

Remembrance never must awake: Q! where is Lethe's fabled stream?

My foolish heart be still, or break,




AIR-Were I a clerk.

You remember, Ellen, our hamlet's pride,

How meekly she bless'd her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his bride,

And love was the light of their cot. Together they toil'd thro' winds and rains,

Till William at length, in sadness, said, “ We must seek our fortune on other plains ;”.

Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed.

They roam'd a long and a weary way,

Nor much was the maiden's heart at ease, When now, at close of one stormy day,

They see a proud castle among the trees. “To-night,” said the youth, “ we'll shelter there;

“ The wind blows cold, the hour is late : " So, he blew the horn with a chieftain's air,

And the porter bow'd, as they pass'd the gate.

« Now welcome, lady! exclaim'd the youth,

“ This castle is thine, and these dark woods all."
She believ'd him wild, but his words were truth,

For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall!
And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves

What William the stranger woo'd and wed;
And the light of bliss, in these lonely groves,

Is pure as it shone in the lowly shed.


There is an hour of peaceful rest

To mourning wanderers given ;
There is a tear for souls distrest,
A balm for every wounded breast

'Tis found above-in Heaven!

* We cannot forbear expressing our high opinion of this excellent piece of poetry. It is a production of a very superior kind indeed, and for which we are indebted to the exertions of some American bard. It was copied from a Dewspaper belonging to that country, and is no mean specimen of their ability

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