SONG I.

I.

Oh, how I dreamed of love,

When youth was all before me;

Ere the fearful thought came o'er me

Of all this heart should prove!

When young Beauty beamed upon me

New blisses from above,

And the spells of Hope were on me,

Oh, how I dreamed of love!

II.

And now, though withering years

Have blanched my cheek and tresses; Though a change no tongue expresses Hath slain my hopes and fears; Though this goodly earth is ever

But as haunted ground to me,

Yet, sweet love, nought can sever
My life, my soul from thee!

III.

For love's sweet sake I've scorned

The gauds that lure the many;

And that falsest bliss of any,

The fame that's quickly mourned.

Nor thought I of bestowing

My true treasure gold to make, When the cloudless suns were glowing,

I but lived for love's sweet sake!

SONG II.

I.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands, a chasing the deer,
Chasing the wild deer, and following the poe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

And never till up on the mountains I speed,
Shall my heart have its hope, or my toil win its meed;
And never till on the bright lochs I shall gaze,

Can I feel that whole Heaven shining down on my days.

II.

Oh, the plains of the Saxon are prisons to me;
Like a dream of the sick is their feast and their glee;
But when up on the hills in the freshness of morn,
I'll laugh out, as I think of their joyance with scorn.
When my tartans flap free in the strong Highland breeze,
And before me the game to its far covert flees,
While my dogs follow fast in the wilds of delight,
Oh, then I'm a king in the flush of my might!

III.

What a fair gentle maid in Glencarra doth dwell,
How her sweet words are music all grief to expel!
Should a Queen from the South offer sceptres to me,
Not an hour could she win me, bright maiden, from thee.
Though the Queen of the Saxons should come from her
throne,

For a true-love to seck, and choose me for her own,
I'd away to the Highlands, and say to my dear,

"My heart's in the Highlands, my true-love is here."

SONG III.

EYES versus EYES.

ALTERED FROM THE FRENCH, AND SENT TO A YOUNG LADY

WHOSE EYES WERE HAZEL.

I.

Those wild Black eyes so sparkling bright,

Those dear Blue eyes that softly strike,

In their disputes, both day and night,
Sought to possess our souls, alike.

Each claimed the glory and applause,
And pro and con they brightly strove :
At length this most important Cause

Has been decided by King Love.