Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen; For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud
palace,

What are they? The haunt of the tyrant and slave!

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ;
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean.

LXXXIII.

CALEDONIA.

TUNE-Caledonian Hunt's Delight.

THERE was once a day, but old Time then was young,
That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,
From some of your northern deities sprung:
(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?)
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,

To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would: Her heavenly relations there fixed her reign,

And pledged her their godheads to warrant it good.

A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,

The pride of her kindred the heroine grew; Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore,"Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue!"

With tillage or pasture at times she would sport, To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn; But chiefly the woods were her favourite resort, Her darling amusement the hounds and the horn.

Long quiet she reign'd; till thitherward steers
A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand;
Repeated, successive, for many long years

They darken'd the air, and they plunder'd the

land:

Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry, They'd conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside; She took to her hills, and her arrows let flyThe daring invaders they fled or they died.

The fell harpy-raven took wing from the North, The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore; The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth

To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore: O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd; No arts could appease them, no arms could repel; But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd,

As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell.

The cameleon-savage disturb'd her repose,
With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife;
Provoked beyond bearing, at last she arose,
And robb'd him at once of his hopes and his life;

The Anglian lion, the terror of France,

Oft prowling, ensanguined the Tweed's silver flood;

But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance,
He learned to fear in his own native wood.

Thus bold, independent, unconquer'd, and free,
Her bright course of glory for ever shall run :
For brave Caledonia immortal must be;

I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun :
Rectangle-triangle, the figure we'll choose,

The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base; But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse;

Then ergo, she 'll match them, and match them always.

LXXXIV.

AULD ROB MORRIS.

THERE'S auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men; He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She's sweet as the evening amang the new hay; As blithe and as artless as the lamb on the lea, And dear to my heart as the light to my ee.

But O! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed;
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane:
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

O, had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hoped she wad smiled upon me; O, how past describing had then been my bliss, As now my distraction no words can express!

LXXXV.

JESSIE.

TUNE-Bonnie Dundee.

TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ;
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.

Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;

Enthroned in her een he delivers his law: And still to her charms she alone is a stranger: Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.

LXXXVI.

THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.

"TWAS even the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang;
The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets alang :
In every glen the mavis sang,

All nature listening seem'd the while,
Except where green-wood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.

With careless step I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoiced in nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely glade,.

A maiden fair I chanced to spy:
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like nature's vernal smile;
Perfection whisper'd, passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!

Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in Autumn mild,

When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wandering in a lonely wild :