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How aft I've wander'd by the burn,
At gloamin hour, wi' somebody!
And listen'd to the tale o' love,
Sae sweetly told by somebody!
Oh hon! for somebody!

Oh hey! for somebody!
Wing'd wi' joy the moments flew,
Sae blest was I wi' somebody.

But now the tear-drap dims my e’e,
When'er I think o' somebody;
For weel I lo'e the bonny lad
That's far awa;-my somebody.
Oh hon! for somebody!

Oh hey! for somebody!
While I live I'll ne'er forget

The parting look o' somebody.

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
And send me safe my somebody.
Oh hon! for somebody!

Oh hey! for somebody!

I wad do what wad I not?
For the sake o' somebody!

of Mr. Smith himself, or of any of his poetical friends, we have no right to conjecture, but we think them more happily introduced than additional verses to songs usually are, and that they are worthy of a place in the first collections of the present day.

CCXXV.

SO 'TIS WITH LOVE.

Its filmy wing, of azure hue,
Lightly the fluttering insect plies,
Breathless the youthful train pursue,
But onward still the wanderer flies;

If one at length the prize obtain,
He thinks it fairer for his pain;-
So 'tis with love.

What sweetens the poor peasant's sleep? What makes the warrior's laurel dear?

Why joy the heroes of the deep,

When first their native cliffs appear? Oh! 'tis the thought of dangers o'er, Gives present bliss to charm the more! So 'tis with love.

CCXXVI.

THE ZEPHYR.

Zephyr, whither art thou straying?
Tell me where ;

With prankish girls in gardens playing,
False as fair,

A butterfly's light back bestriding,
Queen-bees to honeysuckles guiding,
Or on a swinging hare-bell riding,
Free from care.

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At noon, when Neptune's sea-nymphs gambol,

Braid their hair;

When on the tumbling billows rolling,
Or on the smooth sands idly strolling,

Or in cool grottos they lie lolling,

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To chase the moon-beams up the mountains,

You prepare,

Or dance with elves on brinks of fountains,
Mirth to share,

Now seen with love-lorn lilies weeping,

Now with a blushing rose-bud sleeping,

While fairies, from their windows peeping,
Cry, oh rare!

CCXXVII.

DUNOIS THE BRAVE!

t was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound for Palestine, But first he made his orisons before St. Mary's shrine;

And grant, immortal Queen of Heaven," was still the sol

dier's prayer,

That I may prove the bravest knight, and love the fairest fair."

*This is extracted from "Paul's letters to his Kinsfolk:" the following is me note which precedes it; "A relique of greater moral interest was given

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His oath of honour on the shrine, he grav'd it with his sword, And follow'd to the Holy Land the banner of his Lord; Where, faithful to his noble vow, his war-cry fill'd the air"Be honour'd aye the bravest knight, belov'd the fairest fair."

They ow'd the conquest to his arm, and this his liege-lord said,
"The heart that has for honour beat, by bliss must be repaid-
My daughter Isabel and thou shall be a wedded pair,
For thou art bravest of the brave, she fairest of the fair."

And then they bound the holy knot before St. Mary's shrine, That makes a Paradise on earth, if hearts and hands combine, And every Lord and Lady bright that were in chapel there, Cried "Honour'd be the bravest knight-belov'd the fairest fair."

me by a lady, whose father had found it upon the field of battle, (Waterloo. It is a manuscript collection of French songs, bearing stains of clay and blood, which probably indicate the fate of the proprietor. One or two of these romances I have thought pretty, and have since had an opportunity of having them translated into English, by meeting at Paris with one of our Scottish men of rhyme."

We have only to add, that this song or ballad is very popular in France, and was written by one of Buonaparte's sisters, Fanny de Beauharnois, ExQueen of Holland.

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