Let me, thy suppliant, take my part Oft let me leave the busy scene, And in thy grotto's hallow'd shade Smile at the Great, for what they choose View the mild glory round the Throne, To cheer me in the vale of years Still, pensive Nymph! thy grace impart, For with those social feelings flow The warmth of friendship, and the glow THE FLOWER o' ANNAN *. A BALLAD. BY HECTOR MACNEILL, ESQ. "THE flower it blaws!-it fades!—it fa's! Nae tolling bell sounds its death knell! "Nae flower that blaws in shelter'd shaws, E'er match'd that face, where manly grace, "Nae flower sae rare, sae sweet, sae fair, "He came we met; unwarn'd by fate, Alas the while! Luve lent the smile "The morn that's fair, grieves aye the mair, (The witless mind believing) Whan mid-day pours its storms and showers * Annandale in the shire of Dumfries. "War's trumpet blew! my hero flew ! Wi' parting aith, swóre endless faith "A rival came, (accurs'd the name!) "Where Kirtle's braes wi' flow'ring slaes, "Kirkonnel's vale soon heard the tale, "Wha strack the knell when beauty fell! "By Kirtle's flood he drapt in blood! "The flower it blaws!-it fades !-it fa's! And lies unmarkt by ony! Nae tolling bell sounds its death knell! And sae lies my luv'd Johnnie! One of the tributary streams of the river Annan. "Kirkonnel's vale! record the tale, To Chloe's sweet accents, Attention sat mute; From my Chloe remov'd when I bid it complain, I will play then no more; for 'tis her voice alone, * See Gent. Mag. Vol. LIX, p. 672, 761. סינ A LADY ON HER BIRTH DAY. BY THE REV. W. BELOE. YOUTH gives the hope of many a lovely spring, Of cheerful suns, of skies without a cloud : What to the ills of life can solace bring O'er the torn heart when cares unnumber'd croud? Elate with joy and smiles we glide along O'er many a fragrant, many a flowery plain; But when the summer of our years is gone, And in NOVEMBER-look in vain for MAY. |