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Let the loud trump his triumph tell,
But when you hear the passing bell,
Then, Lady, twine a wreath for me,
And twine it of the cypress tree.

Yes, twine for me the cypress bough, But, oh, Matilda, twine not now! Stay till a few brief months are past, And I have look'd and lov'd my last! When villagers my shroud bestrew, With pansies, rosemary, and rue, Then, Lady, weave a wreath for me, And weave it of the cypress tree.



My love can boast a sweeter flowet, Than can be seen in cultur'd bower, When gently falls the evening shower

Upon the opening blossoin.

This early flower, on mountain side,
Bedeck's the slope where streamlets glide
In haste to meet the ocean's tide,

Which guards its native shores.

I love to seek the primrose pale
That bends before the vernal gale,
Which softly breathes along the vale,

When winter's storm is o'er.

In primrose pale I sometimes trace
The sweetness of my Lucy's face;
The tender heart, that stamps the grace

That blooms when rases wither.



AIR-The banks of the Devon.

The pearl of the fountain, the rose of the valley,

Are sparkling and lovely, are stainless and mild; The pearl sheds its ray 'neath the dark water, gaily,

The rose opes its blossom, to bloom on the wild.

The pearl and the rose are the emblems of Mary,

The Maid of Glenconnel-once lovely and gay, A false lover woo'd ber-ye damsels, be wary—

Now scath’d'is the blossom-now dimm'd is the ray.

You have seen her, when morn brightly dawn'd on the mountain,

Trip blithely along, singing sweet to the gale,
At noon, with her lambs, by the side of yon fountain,

Or wending, at eve, to her home in the vale.

With the flowers of the willow-tree blent in her tresses,

Now, woe-worn and pale, in the glen she is seen, Bewailing the cause of her rueful distresses,—'

How fondly he vow'd, and how false he has been.



To yon fause stream, that near the sea,

Hides monie a shelve and plum t,
And rives wi' fearfu' din the stanes,

A witless knieht did come.

* This beautiful piece of Poetry was recovered from the recitation of a lady, who heard it sung by the servants in her father's family, above fifty years

+ Plum, a deep hole in the river.

The day shines clear,--far in he's gane,

Whar shells are silver bricht,
Fishes war louping a' around,

And sparkling to the licht:

When as he lav'd, sounds cam sae sweet,

Frae ilka rock and tree,
The brief was out, 'twas him it doom'd

The Mermaid's face to see f.

ago. It is believed, notwithstanding some modern expressions, to be very ancient. The lady mentions that it was very popular on the Carrick coast of Ayrshire. It bears a striking resemblance to a fragment written by Mr Pinkerton, and to be found in his collection, beginning thus,

Whar yon clear burn, frae down the loch,

Rins saftlie to the sea,
There latelie bath'd, in hete o'nune,

A squire of valour hie.. &c.

There is another piece to be found in Jamieson's Collection of Popular Ballads and Songs, called the “ Waterwoman" a translation from the German of Goethe, exactly similar in the story, and nearly so in description with the “ Mermaid.” We do not know at what period the “ Waterwoman” first made its appearance; but should be inclined to suppose, from internal evi. dence, that it was not imitated from “ Pinkerton's fragment,” which, among other things, wants the catastrophe.

* Brief, literally a writ, here a sentence. In the account of Gourie's Conspiracy, appended to Gall's “ Gabions,” it is used in the sense of * irresistible spell.” 1 + The Mermaid's face to see. It appears that Mermaids could injure even by a look; and on this circumstance turns the ballad of “ Clerk Colvin."

Frae 'neath a rock, sune, sune she rase,

And statelie on she swam,
Stopt in the midst, and beck’d and sang

To him to stretch his hand.

Gowden glist the yellow links,

That round her neck she'd twine;
Her een was o' the skyie blue,

Her lips did mock the wine.

The smile upon her bonnie cheek,

Was sweeter than the bee;
Her voice excell'd the birdie's sang,

Upon the birchen tree.

Sae couthie, couthiet did she look,

And meikle had she feech'd f;
Out shot & his hand, alas, alas !

Fast in the swirl he screech'd.

* Becked and sang, becked signifies beckoned.-Mermaids too, like other syrens of antiquity, were supposed to have the power of fascination by siag. ing; thus Shakespeare:

“O train me not, sweet Mermaid, with thy song,
To drown me in my sister's flood of tears."

Comedy of Errors. + Couthie, Kindly.

Fleeched, Flattered.

Shot, Stretched. Swir Whirlpool.

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