XXV.

MONIMIA.

The bell had toll'd the midnight hour,Monimia sought the shade,

The cheerless yew tree marked the spot Where Leontine was laid.

With soft and trembling steps, the maid
Approach'd the drear abode,

A tear-drop glisten'd on her cheek,
And dew'd her lover's sod.

Cold blew the blast, the yew tree shook,
And sigh'd with hollow moan;

The wand'ring moon had sunk to rest,
And faint the twilight shone.

Monimia's cheek grew deadly pale, Dew'd with the tear of sorrow, While oft she press'd her lover's grave, Nor wak'd with dawn of morrow.

XXVI.

AND MAUN I STILL ON MENIE DOAT.

AIR. "Jockey's gray breeks."

Again rejoicing nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
And maun I still on Menie doat,

And bear the scorn that's in her e'e!
For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
An' it winna let a body be!

In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi’lets spring;

In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

And maun I still, &c.

The merry plowboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;
But life to me's a weary dream,
A dream of ane that never wauks.

And maun I still, &c.

The wanton coot the water skims,
Among the reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And ev'ry thing is blest but I.

And maun I still, &c.

The shepherd steeks his faulding slap, And owre the moorlands whistles shrill, Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,

I meet him on the dewy hill.

And maun I still, &c.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, And mounts and sings on flittering wings, A wae-worn ghaist I hameward glide.

And maun I still, &c.

Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature is all sad like me.

And maun I still, &c.

XXVII.

THE MINSTREL.

A Fragment.

Silent and sad the minstrel sat,

And thought on the days of yore; He was old, yet he lov'd his native land, Tho' his harp could charm no more.

The winds of heaven died away,

And the moon in the valley slept, The minstrel lean'd on his olden harp, And o'er its strains he wept.

In youth he had stood by the Wallace side,
And sung in King Robert's hall,
When Edward vow'd with his English host
Scotland to hold in thrall.

But the Wallace wight was dead and gone,
And Robert was on his death-bed,

And dark was the hall where the minstrel sung
Of chiefs that for Scotia bled.

P

But oft, as twilight stole o'er the steep,

And the woods of his native vale, Would the minstrel wake his harp to weep, And sigh to the mountain gale.

XXVIII.

ΑΝΝΑ.

AIR.-"Ye banks and braes," &c.

O fare thee weel, fair Cartha's side,
For ever, ever fare thee weel !
Upon thy banks I've oft enjoy'd
What virtuous love alone can feel.
With Anna as I fondly stray'd,

And mark'd the gowan's hamely mien,
The vi'let blue, the primrose gay,
Enrich'd the joyful fairy scene.

The sun had set, the western clouds
Began to lose their radiance bright,
The mavis' tuneful note was hush'd,
And all proclaim'd approaching night;