MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

TUNE-Macgregor's Gathering.

THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae, And the clan has a name that is nameless by dayThen gather, gather, gather, Gregalich!

Our signal for fight, which from monarchs we drew, Must be heard but by night, in our vengeful halloo Then halloo, halloo, halloo, Gregalich!

Glenorchy's proud mountains, Calchuirn and her towers, Glenstrae, and Glenlyon, no longer are ours

We're landless, landless, landless, Gregalich!

But, doomed and devoted by vassal and lord,
Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword-
Then courage, courage, courage, Gregalich!

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roof to the flames, and their flesh to the eagles

Come then, Gregalich, come then!

While there's leaves on the forest, or foam on the river, Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever! Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich!

THE FLOWER O' DUNBLANE.

TANNAHILL.

TUNE-The flower of Dunblane.'

THE sun has gane down on the lofty Ben Lomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lonely I stray, in the calm summer gloamin,
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.
How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft fauldin blossom!
And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o'
green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.

She's modest as onie, and blythe as she's bonnie;
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;

And far be the villain, divested o' feeling,

Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flower o' Dunblane.

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy sang to the e'ening,
Thou'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.

How lost were my days till I met wi'

my Jessie ! The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain; I ne'er saw a nymph I could ca' my dear lassie, Till charmed wi' sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.

Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain,
And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane.

This air, certainly one of the most successful of all modern imitations of the ancient Scottish melody, was the composition of Tannahill's friend, the late Mr R. A. Smith.

BY JOVE!

TUNE-When she cam ben she bobbit.

COME, fill me a bumper, my brave jolly boys;
Let's have no more female impert'nence and noise;
For I've tried the endearments and pleasures of love,
And I find they're but nonsense and whimsies, by Jove!

When, first of all, Betty and I were acquaint,
I whined like a fool, and she sighed like a saint:
But I found her religion, her face, and her love,
Were hypocrisy, paint, and self-interest, by Jove!

Sweet Cecil came next, with her languishing air;
Her outside was orderly, modest, and fair ·
But her soul was sophisticate; so was her love;
For I found she was only a strumpet, by Jove!

Little double-gilt Jenny's gold charmed me at last: You know marriage and money together do best. But the baggage, forgetting her vows and her love, Gave her gold to a sniv'ling dull coxcomb, by Jove!

Come fill me a bumper, then, jolly brave boys;
Here's a farewell to impert'nence and noise:
I know few of the sex that are worthy my love;
And, for strumpets and jilts, I abhor them, by Jove!*

*From the Tea-Table Miscellany, where it is marked by the signature L; the initial, no doubt, of one of the ingenious young gentlemen who favoured Ramsay with new songs to the old Scottish airs. It is very probable that Lauder was the person meant-William Lauder, originally a schoolmaster at Dalkeith, but who afterwards distinguished himself in the literary world, by pretending to have detected Milton in stealing the plot of his Paradise Lost from an old Italian author. See Chalmers's Life of Ruddiman.

THE BONNY SCOT.

RAMSAY.

TUNE-The Boatman.

YE gales, that gently wave the sea,
And please the canny boat-man,
Bear me frae hence, or bring to me
My brave, my bonny Scot-man.
In haly bands we joined our hands,
Yet may not this discover,
While parents rate a large estate
Before a faithfu' lover.

But I loor chuse, in Highland glens
To herd the kid and goat, man,
Ere I could, for sic little ends,
Refuse my bonny Scot-man.
Wae worth the man, wha first began
The base ungenerous fashion,
Frae greedy views love's art to use,
While strangers to its passion!

Frae foreign fields, my lovely youth,
Haste to thy longing lassie,
Who pants to press thy balmy mouth,

And in her bosom hause thee.
Love gies the word; then, haste on board;
Fair winds and tenty boatman,

Waft o'er, waft o'er, frae yonder shore,
My blythe, my bonny Scot-man.*

*There is a tradition, mentioned by the Rev. James Hall, in his Travels through Scotland, [2 vols. 1807,] that the early song upon which Ramsay founded the above, was composed on the preference which Mary of Guise gave to our James V., as a husband, over the English Henry VIII.

SONG.

BURNS.

TUNE-Laddie, lie near me.

'Twas na her bonnie blue ee was my ruin; Fair though she be, that was ne'er my undoin': 'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness.

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But though fell fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.

Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest !
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter;
Sooner the sun in his motion shall falter.

THE ELECTION.*

BURNS.

TUNE-Fy, let us a' to the Bridal.

Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,

For there will be bickering there,

*This poem is here printed for the first time. Its interest must be considerably impaired in the eyes of a general reader, by the local and personal allusions in which it consists; but it is, nevertheless, well worthy of a place, as containing many things in Burns's very best manner.