« PreviousContinue »
THE HEART OF BRUCE IN MELROSE ABBEY.
HEART! that didst press forward still*
May this narrow spot inurn
Silent-save when breeze's moan
No, brave heart! though cold and lone,
* “Now pass thou forward, as thou wert wont, and Douglas will follow thee or die!” With these words Douglas threw from him the heart of Bruco into mid-battle against the Moors of Spain.
Is the noble Douglas nigh,
Dreams—the falling of a leaf
THE SCOTTISH EXILE'S FAREWELL.
OUR native land-our native vale
A long, and last adieu ! Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And.Cheviot's mountains blue !
Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renowned in song ! Farewell, ye blithesome braes and meads,
Our hearts have loved so long !
Farewell, ye broomy elfin knowes
Where thyme and harebells grow! Farewell, ye hoary haunted howes
O’erhung with birk and sloe !
The battle mound-the Border tower,
That Scotia's annals tell--
To each, to all-farewell.
Home of our hearts !-our fathers' home!-
Land of the brave and free!
That bears us far from thee.
We seek a wild and distant shore,
Beyond the Atlantic main ;-
Or view thy cliffs again.
But may dishonour blight our fame,
And quench our household fires,
Green island of our sires !
Our native land-our native vale
A long, and last adieu !
And Scotland's mountains blue!
YONDER is a little drum hanging on the wall;
whose skin A cunning workman wrought, and gave the little drum its
Oh, pleasant are fair Cheviot's hills, with velvet verdure
spread; And pleasant 'tis among its heath to make your summer
bed; And sweet and clear are Cheviot's rills that trickle to its
vales, And balmily its tiny flowers breathe on the passing gales. And thus hath felt the shepherd-boy whilst tending of his
fold; Nor thought there was, in all the world, a spot like
And so it was for many a day ; but change with time will
come, And he--(alas for him the day !) he heard the little drum! “Follow,” said the drummer-boy,“ would you live in story! For he who strikes a foeman down, wins a wreath of glory!" “Rub-a-dub!” and “rub-a-dub!” the drummer beats awayThe shepherd lets his bleating flock o'er Cheviot wildly stray!
On Egypt's arid wastes of sand the shepherd now is lying ; Around him many a parching tongue for “Water !” faintly
crying: Oh, that he were on Cheviot's hills, with velvet verdure
spread, Or lying’mid the blooming heath where oft he made his bed ! Or could he drink of those sweet rills that trickle to its vales, Or breathe once more the balminess of Cheviot's mountain
At length upon his wearied eyes the mists of slumber come, And he is in his home again-till wakened by the drum! “Take arms ! take arms !” his leader cries; “the hated fue
man's nigh!” Guns loudly roar, steel clanks on steel, and thousands fall
to die. The shepherd's blood makes red the sand: “Oh, water !
give me some ! “My voice might reach a friendly ear, but for that little
'Mid moaning men, and dying men, the drummer kept his
way, And many a one, by“ glory” lured, did curse the drum that
day. “Rub-a-dub!” and “rub-a-dub!” the drummer beat aloudThe shepherd died ! and, ere the morn, the hot sand was his
shroud. And this is “glory ?” — Yes ; and still will man the tempter
follow, Nor learn that Glory, like its Drum, is but a sound and hollow !
Douglas JERROLD'S Mayazine.
The bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest; And she that doth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade when all things rest; --In lark and nightingale we see What honour hath humility.
When Mary chose the “better part,"
She meekly sat at Jesus' feet; And Lydia's gently-opened heart
Was made for God's own temple meet; --- Fairest and best adorned is she Whose clothing is humility.
The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown,
In deepest adoration bends;
Then most when most his soul ascends;
WINTER AND SPRING.
“ADIEU ! adieu !” Father Winter said
To the world, when about to quit it; With his old white wig half off his head,
As if never made to fit it.
To leave all here behind me;
So deep that none can find me.”
“Good luck! good luck to your hoary locks!”
Said the gay young Spring, advancing; “ Go take your nap ʼmid the caves and rocks,
While I o'er the earth am dancing.