CCL.

THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER

Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer,
The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw
How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover

Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw :
The wild flow'rs o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie,
The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree;
But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' nature and me.

Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery,
Then ilk thing around us was bonnie and braw;
Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,
And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw;
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie,

They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me.

Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs along the bleak mountain, And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae,

While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.

Tis no its loud roar on the wintry wind swellin',
'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tear i' my e'e,
For, O gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan,
The dark days o' winter were summer to me!

CCLI.

EMBLEM OF ENGLAND'S ANCIENT FAITH *.

Emblem of England's ancient faith,

Full proudly may thy branches wave,

Where loyalty lies low in death,

And valour fills a nameless grave.

And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!
Repine not if our clime deny,

Above thine honour'd sod to bloom
The flow'rets of a milder sky.

These owe their birth to genial May;
Beneath a fiercer sun they pine,

Before the winter storm decay,

And can their worth be type of thine.

* These beautiful and highly expressive lines are extracted from the much admired work, entitled Waverley. They are inscribed to an Oak-tree in

No! for, 'mid storms of fate opposing,
Still higher swell'd each dauntless heart,
And while despair the scene was closing,
Commenc'd thy brief but glorious part,

'Twas then thou sought on Albyn's hill,
(When England's sons the strife resign'd)
A rugged race resisting still,

And unsubdu'd though unrefin'd.

Thy death's-hour heard no kindred wail,
No holy knell thy requiem rung;
Thy mourners were the plaided Gael,
Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung.

Yet who, in fortune's summer-shine,
To waste life's longest term away,
Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
Though darken'd ere its noontide day?

the church-yard of — in the Highlands, said to mark the grave of Captain Wogan, who was killed in 1649. The following note concerning this person we also extract from the same work: "The letter from the Chief, containing Flora's lines on the fate of Captain Wogan, whose enterprising character is so well drawn by Clarendon. He had originally engaged in the service of the Parliament, but had abjured that party upon the execution of Charles I. and, upon hearing that the royal standard was set up by the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton, in the Highlands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II. who was then at Paris, passed into England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the neighbourhood of London, traversed the kingdom which had been so long under domination of the Usurper, by marches conducted with such skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms. After

Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs
Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom!
Rome bound with oak her patriot's brows,

And Albyn shadows Wogan's tomb.

CCLII.

KNOW'ST THOU THE LAND.

Know'st thou the land where stately laurels bloom,

Where orange groves exhale their rich perfume;
Soft breezes float along the lucid sky,

And all is peace, and joy, and harmony?
Know'st thou that land?

O thither flee,

And dwell for ever there, my friend, with me.

several months of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill aud courage gained him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance being within reach, he termi nated his short but glorious carcer."

x k 3

Know'st thou the hills, whose towering heads of snow
Frown o'er the fairy land that smiles below:

Now wrapt in clouds the gaze of mortals shun,
Now freeze and glisten in the summer sun?
Know'st thou those hills?-

Be our retreat

The fertile Eden blooming at their feet.

Know'st thou the clime whose sons have souls of fire

To feel and prize the raptures of the lyre;

To whom those finer sympathies belong

Which thrill and tremble at the voice of song?

Know'st thou that clime?

Come, thither flee,

That is the fittest home for you and me.

Here hate and slander fan the coals of strife,
Cast foul aspersions on the fairest life;

Spy out each speck that clouds a brother's fame,
Shout o'er his faults, and feast upon his shame!
Spurn the vile herd!——

Indignant fly

To some more courteous land, and milder sky;