If souls could always dwell above,
Thou ne'er hadst left thy sphere;
Or, could we keep the souls we love,

We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary!
Tho' many a gifted mind we meet,
Tho' fairest forms we see,

To live with them is far less sweet
Than to remember thee, Mary!

XXXV.

PROVE FALSE TO THEE.

AIR." I saw thy form."

Prove false to thee, my love !—ah! no,

It never shall be said

A heart so spotless, pure as thine,

Was e'er by me betray'd, Mary.

One richer choose than thee, dear maid !—— No, ne'er at splendour's shrine,

For wealth of world's would I forego

The right to call thee mine, Mary.

Nor e'er shall beauty, save thine own,
A moment o'er me sway,

For thou, with every earthly charm,
Hast those will ne'er decay, Mary.
Then from thy breast chase every fear,
For thou art all to me;

And nought, and less than nought, this world
Would seem, if wanting thee, Mary.

XXXVI.

THE SUMMER GLOAMIN.*

AIR." Alexander Donn's Strathspey."

The midges dance aboon the burn,
The dew begins to fa’,

The pairtricks, down the rushy howm,

Set up their e'ening ca';

Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang

Rings through the briery shaw,

While, fleeting gay, the swallows play

Around the castle wa'.

* This song, though not generally known, our readers will be gratified to learn, is the production of the late R. Tannahill.

Beneath the gowden gloaming sky
The mavis mends his lay,

The redbreast pours its sweetest strains,
To charm the lingering day;
While weary yeldrins seem to wail
Their little nestlings torn,
The merry wren, frae den to den,
Gaes jinking through the thorn.

The roses fauld their silken leaves,
The foxglove shuts its bell,
The honey-suckle and the birk,
Spread fragrance through the dell.
Let others crowd the giddy court
Of mirth and revelry,

The simple joys that nature yields
Are dearer far to me.

XXXVII.

O SLEEP NOT, MOSCA.

A Lapland Song.

O sleep not, Mosca, but wait for thy love,
Tho' the night be cold and drear,
I fear not the blast, or the mountain steep,
But speed with my swift Reindeer.

While cheer'd, my love, by those bright eyes of thine,
And warm'd with thy bosom's glow,

I heed not tho' far and dreary the way,
But swift with my Reindeer go.

O hide not, pale moon, thy beams of the night,

O hide not thy light from me ;

My love she has sigh'd, and look'd for thy smile,

And will bless the night and thee.

My Mosca I see on yon hill of snow,
O speed, O speed, my Reindeer ;

How canst thou linger, and not speed thy flight,
When my Mosca's voice I hear.

XXXVIII.

FAIR DREAM OF MY SLUMBER.

Fair dream of my slumber, sad thoughts of my waking, Sweet-why should the world e'er dissever us more? No home can I find but with her I'm forsaking,

Even life wants the charm that endear'd it before.

Thy image all ties, all affections expelling,

Here lures me to fix my immutable dome,

Thy bosom's the spot where my soul would be dwelling, And exile-dark exile, awaits me at home.

Oh! when but of friendship the welfare is spoken,
And press'd is the hand which we cannot retain,
We seem as the threads of existence were broken,
And happiness fled ne'er to spin them again.
Then think to how piercing a grief we are fated,
When the being we love, is the friend we adore,
When the void in our hearts must be ever unsated,
When the web we have burst can be woven no more!

XXXIX.

HOW ARDENTLY MY BOSOM GLOWS.

AIR. "My Nannie, O."

How ardently my bosom glows
Wi' love to thee, my dearie, 0,
My panting heart its passion shows,
Whenever thou art near me, O.