YARROW VISITED.

Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,
For sportive youth to stray in;
For manhood to enjoy his strength;

And age to wear away in!

Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,

A covert for protection

Of tender thoughts that nestle there,
The brood of chaste affection.

How sweet, on this autumnal day,
The wild-wood fruits to gather,
And on my true-love's forehead plant
A crest of blooming heather!

YARROW VISITED.

And what if I enwreath'd my own!
"Twere no offence to reason;
The sober hills thus deck their brows
To meet the wintry season.

I see-but not by sight alone,
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee!

A ray of fancy still survives-
Her sunshine plays upon thee!
Thy ever youthful waters keep
A course of lively pleasure;
And gladsome notes my lips can breathe,
Accordant to the measure.

The vapours linger round the heights,
They melt-and soon must vanish;
One hour is theirs, nor more is mine--
Sad thought, which I would banish,
But that I know, where'er I go,
Thy genuine image, Yarrow!

Will dwell with me--to heighten joy,

And cheer my mind in sorrow.

JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

"WHY weep ye by the tide, ladye?
Why weep ye by the tide ?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye shall be his bride;
And ye shall be his bride, ladye,

Sae comely to be seen:"

But

aye she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;

His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen: "

"A chain of gold ye sall not lack,

Nor braid to bind your hair,

Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair;

JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair;

The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight are there :

They sought her baith by bower and ha';

The ladye was not seen!

She's o'er the Border, and awa'

Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean.

A THOUSAND miles from land are we,
Tossing about on the roaring sea;
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast:
The sails are scatter'd abroad, like weeds,
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds,