Preserve our shaved heads from cold and from heat, gentle

daughter of Jodehim; (Joseph)

Preserve us in the land of heat, softest branch of Mary."

BISHOP EWING'S TRANSLATION.

MARIE LAGHAC.

(FROM THE GAELIC).

OUNG was I and Mary

YOUN

In the windings of Glensmeoil,
When came that imp of Venus,

And caught us with his wile,
And pierced us with his arrows

That we thrilled in every pore,
And loved as mortals never loved
On this green earth before.

CHORUS:

O! my bonnie Mary,

My dainty love, and queen,

The fairest, rarest, Mary

On earth was ever seen.

O! my queenly Mary

That made a king of men,
To call thee my own, Mary,

Born in the bonnie glen.

Oftimes myself and Mary
Strayed up the bonnie glen;
Our hearts as pure and innocent
As little children then.

Boy Cupid finely taught us,

To dally and to toy,

When the shade fell from the green tree, And the sun was in the sky.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

If all the wealth of Albyn

Were mine, and treasures rare,
What boots all gold and silver
If the sweet love be not there?
More dear to me than rubies

In deepest veins that shine,
Is one kiss from the lips

That rightly I call mine.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

Thy bosom's heaving whiteness

With beauty overbrims, Like swan upon the waters

When gentliest it swims; Like cotton on the moorland, Thy skin is soft and fine, Thy neck is like the sea gull,

When dipping in the brine.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

The locks about thy dainty ear,
Do richly curl and twine;
Dame Nature rarely grew a wealth
Of ringlets, like to thine.
There needs no hand of hireling,
To twist and plait thy hair,
But where it grew, it winds and falls,
In wavey beauty there.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

Like snow upon the mountains,

Thy teeth are pure and white; Thy breath is like the cinnamon Thy mouth buds with delight; Thy cheeks are like the cherries, Thine eyelids soft and fair,

And smooth thy brow, untaught to frown, Beneath thy golden hair.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

The pomp of mighty Kaisers
Our state doth not surpass,
When 'neath the lofty coppice
We lie upon the grass;
The purple flowers around us
Outspread their rich array,
Where the lusty mountain streamlet,
Is leaping from the brae.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

Nor harp, nor pipe, nor organ,

From touch of cunning men
Made music half so eloquent

As our hearts thrilled with then;
When the blithe lark, lightly soaring,
And the mavis on the spray,
And the cuckoo in the greenwood,
Sang hymns to greet the May.

CHORUS.-O! my bonnie Mary, &c.

PROF. JOHN STUART BLACKIE.

THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL TO HIS

MARY.

'M sitting on the stile, Mary,

I'M

Where we sat side by side,

On a bright May morning long ago,
When first you were my bride.

The corn was springing fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary,
The day's as bright as then;
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again.

But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your warm breath on my cheek,
And I still keep listening for the words.
You never more may speak.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
The village church stands there,
The church where we were wed, Mary,
I see the spire from here.

But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest,
Where I've laid you darling, down to sleep
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But O, they love them better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all my pride, Mary,
My blessing and my pride;
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary kind and true;
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.

They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there,

But I'll not forget my darling,

Were she fifty times less fair.

LADY DUFFERIN.