THE

ROYAL MINSTREL.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

God save our gracious Queen,
Victoria, our noble Queen,
God save the Queen.

Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,

God save the Queen.

O Lord, our God, arise,
Scatter her enemies,

And make them fall:

Confound their politics,

Frustrate their knavish tricks!

On Victoria our hopes we fix,
God save the Queen.

The choicest gifts in store,

On Victoria be pleased to pour,
Long may she reign;

May she defend our laws,

And ever give us cause,

To sing with heart and voice,

God save the Queen,

QUEEN OF MY SOUL.

RIZZIO'S LAST SONG.

Queen of my soul, whose star like eyes
Are all the light I feel;
Whose voice in sweetest melodies,
Can love or pardon speak.

I bow me to my love's control,
Queen of my soul!

Mary, Mary, queen of my soul!

The mountains of my native shore
Are cold, and dim and gray!

Ah, linger midst their clouds no more,
My home is far away,

Where Italy's blue waters roll,

Queen of my soul!

Mary, Mary, queen of my soul !

The perfum'd rose, for thee is twin'd,
The lute awakes its strain;
Then shall the withering northward wind,
Steal all thy sweets in vain ;

No, fly beyond thy fate's controul,

Queen of my soul !

Mary, Mary, queen of my soul!

I LOVE HER, HOW I LOVE HER.

I Love her, how I love her,

Though mine, alas! she ne'er can be:
The sun that shines above her,
Is far less bright to me.

The time by tears I measure,

I prize my fatal treasure, And feel a fatal pleasure,

In suffering, dear love, for thee.

Deep in my bosom concealing the fierce flame That consumes me, ne'er to thee shall my lips reveal,

All the woes I feel;

The voice of honour I obey-it speaks in friendship's sacred name.

THE BRAVE OLD OAK.

A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who hath rul'd in the green wood long,
Here's health and renown to his broad green crown
And his fifty arms so strong.

There's fear in his frown, when the sun goes down,
And the fire in the west fades out;

And he showeth his might on a wild midnight,
When the storm through his branches shout.
Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who stands in his pride alone,

And still flourish he a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are flown.

In the days of old, when the spring with gold,
Had brightened his branches grey,

Through the grass at his feet crept maidens sweet
To gather the dew of May.

And on that day, at thé rebeck gay,

They frolic'd with lovesome swains

They are dead-they are gone-in the church

yard laid,

But the tree it still remains.

Then here's, &c.

Then was the rare times, when the Christmas chimes

Was a merry sound to hear

When the squire's wide hall, and the cottage small
Was fill'd with good English cheer.
Now gold hath the sway. we all obey,

And a ruthless king is he

But he never shall send our ancient friend,
To be toss'd on the stormy sea.

Then here's, &c.

COME, DWELL WITH ME.

Come, dwell with me, come, dwell with me,
And our home shall be, and our home shall be,
A pleasant cot in a tranquil spot,

With a distant view of each changing scene.
My cottage is a magic scene,

The sheltering boughs are ever green,

The streamlet, as it flows along,

Seems murmuring forth a fairy song.

Come, dwell with me, &c.

The tendrils of the purple vine,
Around the rustic porch shall twine,
The woodbine and the myrtle flower,
Shall make each casement seem a bower,
I will not make thee once regret,
The gay saloons where once we met,

"Twill be my pride to hear thee say, Love makes this valley far more gay,

Come, dwell with me, &c.

GLORIOUS APOLLO.

Glorious Apollo from on high beheld us,
Wand'ring to find a temple for his praise,
Sent Polpbymnia hither to shield us,

While we ourselves such a structure might raise. Thus then combining,

Hands and hearts joining

Sing we in harmony Apollo's praise.

Here every gen'rous sentiment awaking,
Muse inspiring harmony and joy,

Each social pleasure giving and partaking,
Glee and good humour our hours employ.
Thus then combining,

Hands and heart joining,
Long may continue our unity and joy.

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO,

John Anderson, my jo, John, when nature first began,

To try her canny hand, John, her m ater-word

was man;

And you amang them a', John, sae trig frae top to toe,

She prov'd to be nae journey work, John Anderson, my jo.