O what is't that pits my poor heart in a flutter?
And what gars the tear come sae fast to my ee?
If I was nae ettled to be onie better,

Then what gars me wish onie better to be?
I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither;
Nae mither nor frien' the poor lammie can see ;
I fear I hae left my bit heart a' thegither,

Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae

my ee.

Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie ga'e me: Yestreen when he ga’e meʼt, and saw I was sabbin', I'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee.

Tho' now he said naething, but Fare ye weel, Lucy! It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see: He could na say mair, but just Fare ye weel, Lucy! Yet that I will mind to the day that I die.

The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it's droukit ; The hare likes the brake, and the braird on the lee; But Lucy likes Jamie ;-she turn'd and she lookit;

She thought the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah! weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless,

And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! His bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless,

Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return.

DONALD CAIRD.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Donald Caird can lilt and sing,
Blithely dance the Hieland fling;
Drink till the gudeman be blind,
Fleech till the gudewife be kind:
Hoop a leglen, clout a pan,

Or crack a pow wi' ony man:-
Tell the news in burgh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again.

Donald Caird can wire a maukin,
Kens the wiles o' dun-deer staukin;
Leister's kipper makes a shift

To shoot a moor-fowl in the drift:
Water-bailiffs, rangers, keepers,

He can wauk when they are sleepers ;-
Not for bountith or reward,

Donald Caird can drink a gill
Fast as hostler wife can fill;
Ilka ane that sells gude liquor

Kens how Donald bends a bicker:

When he's fou, he's stout and saucy, Keeps the cantle o' the causey; Highland chief and Lowland laird Maun gie room to Donald Caird.

Steek the aumrie, lock the kist,
Else some gear may weel be mist;
Donald Caird finds orra things,
Where Allan Gregor fand the tings :
Dunts of kebbuck, taits of woo,
Whiles a hen, and whiles a sow;
Webs or duds frae hedge or yard—
Ware the wuddie, Donald Caird!

On Donald Caird the doom was stern,
Craig to tether, legs to airn :
But Donald Caird, wi' mickle study,
Caught the gift to cheat the wuddie.
Rings of airn, and bolts of steel,
Fell like ice frae hand and heel!
Watch the sheep in fauld and glen,
Donald Caird's come again.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

Ye mariners of England!

Who guard our native seas;

Whose flag has brav'd, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again,

To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow;

While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

For the deck it was their field of fame,

And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow;
As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow:

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below-
As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn ;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

Then, then,

ye ocean warriors!

Our

song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more,

And the storm has ceas'd to blow.