Thus to use me so severely
Is not kind in thee.
Smile again, &c.
Fare thee well, my bonnie lassie,
Lassie, fare ye well;
Time will show thee, bonny lassie,
More than tongue can tell.
Tho' we're doom'd by fate to sever,
(And 'tis hard to part,)
Still, believe me, thou shalt ever
Own thy faithful heart.
Then, smile again, &c.
WAKE, MAID OF LORN.-By Sir W. Scott.
WAKE, maid of Lorn, the moments fly
Which yet that maiden name allow;
Wake, maiden, wake, the hour is nigh
When love shall claim a plighted vow.
By fear, thy bosom's fluttering guest;
By hope, that soon shall fears remove-
We bid thee break the bonds of rest,
And wake thee at the call of love.
Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay
Lies many a galley gaily mann'd;
We hear the merry pibrochs play,
We see the streamer's silken band.
What chieftain's praise these pibrochs swell,
What crest is on these banners wove,
The harp, the minstrel dare not tell,
The riddle must be read by love.
AH! what is the bosom's commotion,
In a sea of suspense while 'tis tost!
While the heart in our passion's wild ocean,
Feels even hope's anchor is lost.
Morgiana, thou art my dearest,
For thee I have languish'd and griev'd! And when hope to my bosom was nearest, How oft has that hope been deceiv'd. Morgiana, my hope was deceiv'd.
The storm of despair has blown over,
No more by its vapor depress'd;
I laugh at the clouds of a lover,
With the sunshine of joy in my breast.
Love made by a parent my duty,
To the wish of my heart now arriv'd;
I bend to the power of beauty,
And ev'ry fond hope is reviv'd.
Morgiana, my hope is reviv'd.
BLUE BELL OF SCOTLAND.
O WHERE, tell me where is your highland laddie gone? He's gone with streaming banners where noble deeds
And my sad heart will tremble till he comes safely home. O where, tell me where did your highland laddie stay? He dwelt beneath the holly trees, beside the rapid Spey, And many a blessing follow'd him the day he went
But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland's bonny bounds,
His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds,
While wide thro' all our hills and vales, his warlike name resounds.
THE STORM.-By G. A. Stevens.
CEASE, rude Boreas, blustering railer,
List, ye landsmen, all to me;
Messmates, hear a brother sailor
Sing the dangers of the sea:
From bounding billows first in motion,
When the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest-troubled ocean,
Where the seas contend with skies.
Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling-
By topsail sheets and haulyards stand-
Down topgallants quick be hauling-
Down your staysails, hand, boys, hand!
Now it freshens, set the braces-
Now the topsail sheets let go-
Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces,
Up your topsails nimbly clew.
Now all you at home in safety,
Shelter'd from the howling storm,
Tasting joys by Heaven vouchsafed ye,
Of our state vain notions form.
Round us roars the tempest louder,
Think what fear our minds enthrals;
Harder yet, it yet blows harder,—
Now again the boatswain calls!
The topsail-yards point to the wind, boys,
See all clear to reef each course-
Let the foresheet go-don't mind, boys,
Though the weather should be worse.
Fore and aft the spritsail-yard get-
Reef the mizen-see all clear-
Hands up, each preventer-brace set-
Man the foreyard-cheer, lads, cheer.
Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,
Peal on peal contending clash:
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings flash:
One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky:
Different deaths at once surround us-
Hark! what means that dreadful cry?
The foremast's gone! cries every tongue out,
O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck;
A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out-
Call all hands to clear the wreck.
Quick the lanyards cut to pieces-
Come, my hearts, be stout and bold!
Plumb the well-the leak increases-
Four feet water in the hold!
While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,
We for wives or children mourn;
Alas! from hence there's no retreating,
Alas! to them there's no return.
Still the leak is gaining on us,
Both chain-pumps are chok'd below;
Heaven have mercy here upon us!
For only that can save us now.
O'er the lee-beam is the land, boys-
Let the guns o'erboard be thrown-
To the pump come, every hand, boys-
See, our mizenmast is gone.
The leak we've found, it cannot pour fast,
We've lightened her a foot or more;
Up and rig a jury-foremast-
[shore. She rights!-she rights! boys-wear off
Now, once more, peace round us beaming,
Since kind Heaven has sav'd our lives,
From our eyes joy's tears are streaming,
For our children and our wives;
Grateful hearts now beat in wonder
To Him who thus prolongs our days;
Hush'd to rest the mighty thunder—
Every voice bursts forth in praise.
WHY should we at our lots complain,
Or grieve at our distress?
Some think if they could riches gain,
They'd gain true happiness.
Alas! how vain is all their gain !
This life will soon decay;
Then whilst we're here with friends so dear,
Let's drive dull cares away.
The only circumstance in life,
That ever I could find,
To soften care or temper strife,
Was a contented mind;
Having that store, we have much more
Than wealth could e'er convey,
And whilst we're here with friends so dear,
We'll drive dull cares away.
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