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Farewell for aye: a salt tear dims
The eye, that never wept before;
Our mortal pilgrimage is o'er,
And now we part to meet no more!

Our lay of joy is past and gone,
That once in vaulted halls we sung;
Alas! our final peal hath rung
Of mirth, high dames and lords among:

And now we gaze with sadness on
The narrow home where song must end ;
There no merry lays ascend
Where my feeble footsteps wend.

Here on this oak that bourgeons fair, I'll hang thy wires of witching tone; The passing breeze will cause them moan, And swell my requiem when I'm gone.

The traveller faint will list’ning stare, And marvel whence thy sounds proceed, The fairy king in buxom weed, Will leave his dance to hear thy rede.

But chief of all, the love-lorn maid, When dusky twilight clouds the sky, Eluding watchful guardian's eye Towards this sacred spot will hie.

Beneath thy oaks embow'ring shade She'll muse, and count each straggling ray The moon sheds on its lovely way, Along thy frame of silvery grey,

She'll hear thee woo'd by wandering gale,
Rise sweetly in thy midnight song,
Now, rapid roll, full ton'd, and strong,
Now, low and dying, weep along.

Oh! she will hear thee oft bewail
The fate of lovers true, and tell
How many an evil tide befell
Maids, who have lov'd but all too well.

The steel-clad knight as home he wends,
From battle toils, and sieges dire,
Will
pause,

and check his courser's fire, And under thy old oak retire:

For, lo! thy song of triumph blends Its warlike notes with fustling breeze; And falling, rising, through the trees, Mimes his old hall's festivities.

O Harp! be still a little while,
Nor wake thy dirge of melting numbers,
Stay till thy master calmly slumbers,
Where no bale his bliss encumbers.

Now, take with thee his last faint smile,
And benison, in death's arms given,
Oh now begin thy mournful steven,
And waft my soul on it to heaven!

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INDEX.

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A coggie o' ale, and a pickle ait meal
Adown the green dell, near the Abbey's
remains

note
Again rejoicing nature sees
Again the happy day returns

note
Ah! Mary, sweetest maid, farewell
All in the merry Whitsuntide
All white hang the bushes o'er Elaw's sweet stream
Amid Loch-Caterine's scenery wild
A moment pause, ye British fair

note
And art thou gone, for ever gone
And can thy bosom bear the thought
And has she then fail'd in her truth

note
As I came in by our gate end
At the close of the day in the sacred Aisle
Auld Marget, in the fauld she sits

note
Auld Rob, the laird o, muckle land
Away! let nought to love displeasing note

424
Burns

39
Tannahill 237

184

270
Joanna Baillie 157
J.B.

306

307
John Sim» 102
J. Goldie 199

292
Burns

267
Camoers 174
Anderson 201

129
165

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Beyond Busaco's mountains dun

note
Blow on, ye wild winds, o'er his hallowed
grave

note
Blythely I hae screwed my pipes
By the side of a mountain, o'ershadowed with trees

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W. M Laren
Hogg

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332
135
300

218

313

Can a crown give content

note
Claudine liv'd contented and peace was her lot
Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise

T. Dibdin
Dr. Dwight
C. Marlowe
Moore

note
Come live with me, and be my love
Come o'er the sea
Coup sent a challenge frae Dunbar

note

113
414
103
275

Dear is my little native vale
Deep in love, yes 'tis love !
Dried be that tear, my gentlest love!

Rogers

16 Lady Morgan $ Sheridan

note

Emblem of England's ancient faith,

note From "Waverley" 599

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,

note Moore Fair dream of my slumber, sad thoughts of my waking W. Reader 55 Far lone amang the highland hills,

Tannahill 499 Farewell! if ever fondestį prayer

Byron

142 Farewell, oh sweet hope! I have wept thee in sadness M. A. R. 999 For many a ristful hour to pity dear note From his booth on the hill, the sad' shepherd retires Robt. Glassford 175 From my slumber I woke at the dead hour of night

note

J. Findlay

• 998

Gie me a lass wi' a lump o' land
Gloomy winter's now awa'
Glowing with love, on fire for fame
Go, lovely rose!
Go round, my wheel, go round,

Ramsay
Tannahin

SS3
From Paul's Letters" 431
note E. Waller
note Gott. Aug. Burder 440

Happy the world in that blest age
Have you not seen the timid tear
Have you sailed on the breast of the deep
Here beneath this willow sleepeth
Her hair was like the Cromla mist
Her kiss was soft and sweet
Here's to them that's awa

note
Here's to thy health, my bonny lass
How ardently my bosom glows
How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine
How green the fields, the flowers how fair note
How still is the night, and how deathlike the gloom

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1 come in the morn, I come in the hour note
I found the warrior on the plain
If that the world and love were young note
I have known what it was to be happy and gay
In Buttermere's woods and wilds among note
In summer when nature her mantle displays
In summer when the hay was mawn

V.

59

097 Sir W. Raleigh 415 James Yool 100 R. Allan

99 John Sim

8 Burns

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In vain thou call'st for a mirthful smile

W. Reader 327 Isabelle! Isabelle! hark to my soft lute

409 I saw from the beach when the morning was shining, Moore

65 I saw thee weep-the big bright tear

Byron

75 I saw thy form in youthful prime

Moore

51 Is there a man whose breast ne'er glow'd

171 Its filmy wing, of azure hue

359 It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound for Palestine

note Fanny De Beauharnois 36L l've no sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake Joanna Baillie 69 I whispered her my last adieu

note Camoens 371

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Mrs. Opie
Tannahill

Keen and cold is the blast loudly whistling around
Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer
Kenmure's on an' awa, Willie

note Know'st thou the land where stately laurels bloom

278 398 194 401

W.S.S.

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Let every valiant son of Gaul

note Marquis de Paulmy 248 Let high Benledi rear its tap Let us go, lassie, go

Tannahill 391 Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, 0,

John Sinn 14 Light springs the pang, light passes by

Pulci

245 Loud roar'd the tempest, the night was descending J. B.

25 Love under Friendship's vesture white

Rogers

15 Love will not bloom where envy breathes

294

H. K. White
Mrs. Opie
Sheridan
Tunnaniu

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Maiden, wrap thy mantle round thee
Maid of the cold suspicious heart
Mark'd you her eye of heavenly blue
Mary, why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow
May heaven holpe the Mayde
Merrily every boson boundeth

note
Mine be a cot beside the hill
Money inaks us bonny
My bonny black meer's dead
My cruel love to danger go
My father and mother now lie with the dead
My friend is the man I would copy thro' life
My dying Sire, in battle slain
My Harry was a gallant gay

note My heart is sair, I darena tell

Twte
My love can boast a sweeter flower
My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string

Moore
Rogers
Anderson
Anderson

.

417

48 256 411 320 119

15 223

88 249 141 211 176 112 357 206 95

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