In vain thou call'st for a mirthful smile, Isabelle! Isabelle! hark to my soft lute, W. Reader,. 327 409 I saw from the beach when the morning was shining, It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound note Fanny de Beauharnois, 361 note Keen and cold is the blast loudly whistling around, Know'st thou the land where stately laurels bloom, note Loud roar'd the tempest, the night was descending, Mary, why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow, Tannahill, 411 My father and mother now lie with the dead, My dying sire, in battle slain, Nac mair we'll meet again, my love, by yon burn side, O beauty, peerless is thy glow, O cease, ye howling winds, to blow, O check, my love, the falling tear, O cherub, Content, at thy moss-covered shrine, O for my awin Roy, quod gude Wallas, Oft in the stilly night, O Harp! that cheered my trembling limbs, Oh! bright rose the sun on the beautiful ocean, 181 O heard you the Mermaid of the sea, R. Allon, 310 O! heard you yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, Oh! I hae lost my silken snood, 7 Oh, once there were minutes when light my heart beat, note Once more, enchanting girl, adieu, On the dark forest side an old minstrel sat playing, O poortith cauld, and restless love, O sleep not, Mosca, but wait for thy love, O slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight, Terry, 2 O white foaming Rhaider, by thy roaring fall, Mrs. Grant, 213 O! who rides by night through the woodlands so wild, O Willie, weel I mind, I lent you my hand, 146 She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, Spirits of love, who wander on, Star of the brave !-whose beam hath shed, Steer, hither steer, your winged pines, Subdued by misfortunes, and bowed down with pain, Summer comes, and in her train, Sweet lady, look not thus again, Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June, Sweet was yon note to fancy's ear, The boatswain's shrill whistle pip'd all hands ahoy, R. Allan, 38 334 155 The gloamin' frae the welkin high, The health I once so much enjoyed, The kiss, dear maid, thy lip has left, They lighted a taper at the dead hour of night, The smoke from yon cottage no longer is rising, The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, The sun was wearing down the lift, The wandering exile, doom'd to roam, The warrior came down from his tent on the hill, They made her a grave too cold and damp, This bottle's the sun of our table, This life is all chequered with pleasures and woes, Thou dark winding Carron, once pleasing to see, "Tis sweet, when in the glowing west, note yon fause stream, that near the sea, 'Twas a keen frosty morn, and the snow heavy falling, "Twas in a lonely cottage dwelling, "Twas in the evening of a wintry day, . Vale of the cross, the shepherds tell, note Roscoe, 82 Weep no more by shading tree, Weep not for the fallen brave, We'll meet beside the dusky glen, by yon burn side, Well! thou art happy, and I feel, What though 'tis true I've talk'd of love, |