Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be ;
For mony a heart thou hast made sair
That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.

A RED, RED ROSE.

Tune-"Graham's Strathspey."

THIS beautiful song was an improvement of a street ballad.

Oн, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
Oh, my luve's like the melodie

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I ;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun :
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve !
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

A VISION.

THE following was written amid the ruins of Lincluden Abbey.

As I stood by yon roofless tower,

Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care;

The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they shot along the sky;

The fox was howling on the hill,

And the distant-echoing glens reply.

The stream, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whose distant roaring swells and fa's.

The cauld blue North was streaming forth
Her lights, wi' hissin', eerie din :
Athort the lift they start and shift,

Like Fortune's favours, tint1 as win.

By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes,
And, by the moonbeam, shook to see
A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,
Attired as minstrels wont to be.

Had I a statue been o' stane,

His daring look had daunted me; And on his bonnet graved was plain The sacred posy-"Liberty!"

And frae his harp sic strains did flow,

Might roused the slumbering dead to hear;

But, oh! it was a tale of woe,

As ever met a Briton's ear!

He sang wi' joy the former day,

He, weeping, wail'd his latter times;

But what he said it was nae play,

I winna venture't in my rhymes.

OUT OVER THE FORTH.

Tune-" Charlie Gordon's Welcome Hame."

OUT over the Forth I look to the north,

But what is the north and its Highlands to me? The south nor the east gie ease to my breast, The far foreign land, or the wild-rolling sea.

But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,

That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be ;

For far in the west lives he I lo'e best,

The lad that is dear to my baby and me.

1 Lost.

Wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul,
That's the love I bear thee!
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie.

Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie.

Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
Or, if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me :
If it winna, canna be,

Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'est me.
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me.

LOVELY POLLY STEWART.

Tune-"Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart."

THE heroine of this song was the daughter of a Mr. William Stewart, a neighbour of the poet's at Ellisland. She married a wealthy gentleman, but through some indiscretion, she descended in the social scale, and according to Mr. Chambers, supported herself by her labours as a laundress in her latter days. O LOVELY Polly Stewart !

O charming Polly Stewart !

There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May

That's half so fair as thou art.

The flower it blaws, it fades and fa's,

And art can ne'er renew it;

But worth and truth eternal youth

Will gie to Polly Stewart.

May he whose arms shall fauld thy charms

Possess a leal and true heart;

To him be given to ken the heaven

He grasps in Polly Stewart !

O lovely Polly Stewart !

O charming Polly Stewart !

There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May

That's half so sweet as thou art.

TO MARY.

Tune--"At Setting Day."

COULD aught of song declare my pains,
Could artful numbers move thee,

The Muse should tell, in labour'd strains,
O Mary, how I love thee!

They who but feign a wounded heart
May teach the lyre to languish ;
But what avails the pride of art,

When wastes the soul with anguish ?

Then let the sudden bursting sigh
The heart-felt pang discover;
And in the keen, yet tender, eye,
Oh, read the imploring lover.
For well I know thy gentle mind
Disdains art's gay disguising;
Beyond what fancy e'er refined,
The voice of nature prizing.

WAE IS MY HEART.

Tune-"Wae is my heart."

WAE is my heart, and the tear's in my ee;
Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice of pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved ;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest.

Oh, if I were where happy I hae been,
Down by yon stream and yon bonny castle-green;
For there he is wandering, and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's ee.

HERE'S TO THY HEALTH, MY BONNY LASS.

Tune-"Laggan Burn."

HERE'S to thy health, my bonny lass,
Guid night and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.