Her lover's wreck'd bark 'neath the deep is abiding,

And, shroudless, his form on the waters doth lie!

Long nights did she mourn to the loudraving billow,

And watch the pale light from her lamp faintly burn;

And now, in despair, oft doth start from her pillow,

And murmur," Dear Dermot, return soon to me,

The heart of thy Norah is breaking for thee!"

BE DAYS OF DRINKING WINE FORGOT
TUNE.-Auld Lang Syne.

BE days of drinking wine forget,
Let water goblets shine;
And from your memory ever blot
The days of drinking wine.
Those days of drinking wine, my friend,
Those days of drinking wine--
A temperance hour is worth a power
Of days of drinking wine.

We all have quaff'd to days long past
Bright juices of the wine;

But let us from our memories cast Those customs of " lang syne." Bad customs of lang syne, my friend, Bad customs of lang syne,

Our temperance age must blot the

page,

Of customs of lang syne

We all can meet as friends should meet, We all together dine,

Our bev'rage quaff from fountains sweet, And ne'er regret the wine.

A temperance shrine, my friend, my friend,

We're pledged at her fair shrine ; And hold her cause above all laws, Or customs of lang syne.

HURRAH FOR THE BONNETS OF
BLUE.

HERE'S a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa,
And wha winna wish guid luck to our

cause,

May never guid luck be their fa',
Its guid to be merry and wise,
Its guid to be honest and true,

Its guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the bonnets of blue.
Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,
Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,
Its guid to support Caledonia's cause
And bide by the bonnets of blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to Charlie, the chief of
the clan,

Although that his band be sma'.

Here's freedom to him that would read, Here's freedom to him that would

write,

There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard,

But they whom the truth would indite. Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,

Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,

Its guid to be wise, to be honest and

true,

And bide by the bonnets of blue.

MAID OF LLANWELLYN.

I'VE no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake,

Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake:

Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on the

tree,

Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,

Threadbare is my coat, and my hosen

are torn:

Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee

While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

The farmer rides proudly to market and fair,

And the clerk at the tavern still claims the great chair;

But of all our proud fellows the proudest I'll be,

While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

WHEN WAKES THE SUN AT EARLI DAWN.

WHEN wakes the sun at early dawn,
Then, from his distant cottage home,
I list to hear my lover's horn,
Which seems to say I come!
And as, from Alp to Alp, the sound,
By echo wafted, steals to cheer;
Nearer and nearer each rebound,
I bless and joy to hear.

When wakes the sun, &c.
Iyo! Iyo!

When sunset tints our glaciers bright
With rosy hues, then forth I rove,
And whisper, in the waning light,
The name of names I love.
And still, as to the vales around,
Farther and farther, less and less,
Echo to echo, wafts the sound,
Then echo's aid I bless.

When wakes the sun, &e
Iyo! Iyo!