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See! the whyte moone sheenes onne hie;
Whyterre ys mie true loves shroude ;
Whyterre yanne the mornynge skie;
Whyterre yanne the evenynge cloude ;

Mie love ys dedde,
Gon to hys death-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe tree.

Heere, uponne mie true loves grave,
Schalle the baren fleurs be layde,
Nee one hallie • Seyncte to save
Al the celness † of a mayde.

Mie love ys dedde,
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,
Alle under the wyllowe tree.

Wythe mie des I'lle dente | the brieres
Rounde his hallie corse to gre,
Ouphante § fairie, lyglte youre fyres,
Heere mie boddie stylle schalle bee.

Mie love ys dedde,
Gon to hys deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe tree.

Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne,
Drayne mie hartys blodde awaie;
Lyfe and all yttes goode I scorne,
Daunce bie nete ll, or feaste by daie.

* Hallie, holy.

Gre, grow,

+ Celness, coldness.

Ouphante, elfin.

I Dente, fasten. | Nete, night.

Mie love ys dedde,
Gon to hys death. bedde,
Al under the wyllowe tree.

Waterre wytches, crownede wythe reytes,
Bere mee to yer leathalle † tyde.
I die; I comme; mie true love waytes
Thos the damselle spake and dyed.



Spirits of love, who wander on

The rosy cheek, and the ruby lip,
And in the folds of the silken zone:

Over the lovely bosom trip,
O let the cheek of the maid I love

Be, at morn and even', your rosy bed,
And sweetly smile, as the spirits above,

Spirits by whom the heart is led.

* Reylos. waterfaz .

+ Leathalle, deadly.

Spirits of love, whose radiant sphere

Is the liquid blue of the cherub's eye,
Who bask in realms more bright and clear,

And lovelier than the rainbow's dye.
O let the eye of the maid I love

Be, at morn and even', your resting place, .
And sweetly smile, as the spirits above,

Spirits of light, of life, and grace.

Spirits of love, whose smiles divine,

And witcherie, fond hearts ensnare,
Hearts pure as the twin-rose buds, that twine,

When fann'd by the breath of morning air.
O let the heart of the maid I love,

Be at morn and even' by smiles carest,
Smiles sweet as those of the spirits above,

Spirits by whom the heart is blest.



Oh! holy be the sod

Which her light foot trod, * This poetical piece, we can with condence statc, is the composition of a young gentleman, well known in this place, and who has already sent

That night in the alley so green,

May the little birds sing,

And the gay woods ring
With joy, where true lovers have been

There was no ray of light

On that ever-blissful night,
Save the light of her own lovely eye;

And sound there were none,

But the rich dulcet tone
Of her voice in the thicket hard by.

Her sweet voice still seems

In my bright flushing dreams, To carol the Roundel of love;

'Twas more grateful to me

Than the hum of the bee,
Or the wail of the languishing dove.

And still by the thorn,

All blushing as morn,
Or the rose gemmed with early dew,

She seems with a smile

To linger awhileBut the bright vision melts from my view. Pitchy darkness succeeds,

forth into the world many pieces of real merit. We would be proud were we allowed to mention his name. Probably, towards the close of this publication, we will have that pleasure. Many of his pieces will be found in " The Visitor,” 2 vols. 18mo. published in Greenock, by Mr. Turner, 1818.

And in black mournful weeds
Sad phantoms of fear glide along's

In horror I start,
While my wild throbbing heart
Asks if truth to these dreams may belong



Recited by the President of the Burn's Anniversary Society, Paisleys

29th January, 1810.

Again the happy day returns,
A day to Scotsmen ever dear,
Tho' bleakest of the changeful year,

It blest us with a Burns,

* This is the last ode that was written by Robert Tannahill, for the Paisley Burns' Club, who held their sixth anniversary meeting, to celebrate the birth of their favourite bard, in January 1810. It was recited on that uccasion, by the president, and was received by the company with every

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