Then he, whose absence we deplore,1

Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore,
The longer miss'd, bewail'd the more;
And thou, and I, and dear-loved R—,2
And one whose name I may not say,— 3
For not Mimosa's tender tree

Shrinks sooner from the touch than he,-
In merry chorus well combined,
With laughter drown'd the whistling wind.
Mirth was within; and care without
Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout.
Not but amid the buxom scene
Some grave discourse might intervene-
Of the good horse that bore him best,
His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest:
For, like mad Tom's, our chiefest care,

Was horse to ride, and weapon wear.

Such nights we've had; and, though the game

Of manhood be more sober tame,

And though the field-day, or the drill,

Seem less important now-yet still

1 Colin Mackenzie, Esq. of Portmore.

* Sir William Rae of St. Catherine's, Bart., subsequently Lord Advocate of Scotland, was a distinguished member of the volunteer corps to which Sir Walter Scott belonged; and he, the Poet, Mr. Skene, Mr. Mackenzie, and a few other friends, had formed themselves into a little semi-military club, the meetings of which were held at their family supper-tables in rotation.

3 John Hay Forbes, Esq., Advocate, a judge of the Court of Session, by title of Lord Medwyn, was another member of this volunteer corps and club. * See King Lear.

Such may we hope to share again.

The sprightly thought inspires my strain! And mark, how, like a horseman true, Lord Marmion's march I thus renew.

USTACE, I said, did blithely mark
The first notes of the merry lark.
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew,
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew,
And with their light and lively call,
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall.
Whistling they came, and free of heart,

But soon their mood was changed;
Complaint was heard on every part,
Of something disarranged.