The mellow notes that cheer the grove,

And glad the flow'ry lea,

But echo saft her thrilling strains

Beneath the Elm Tree.

The fragrant bloom shall sooner fade,
Forgotten by the bee,

Than I forget the hallowed shade

Beneath the Elm Tree.

Nay, when this heart hath' ceased to beat,
And bounds my spirit free,

How fondly shall it seek retreat
Beneath the Elm Tree!

THOU ART FAITHFU' EVER, WILLIE.

Tune-"Fee him, Faither."

HOU art faithfu' ever, Willie,

Thou art faithfu' ever;

Thou art faithfu' ever, Willie,

Thou art faithfu' ever:

Come, gie's your hand, and vow again
You'll forsake me never;

Lang hae we lo'ed ilk ither now;

Sae ne'er let us sever, Willie,
Never let us sever.

But thou art false as fair, Jessie,
But thou art false as fair;
But thou art false as fair, Jessie,
But thou art false as fair:

I passed the bower unseen yestreen,
And wha was wi' you there?

Aft hae we roamed Tweed's bonny banks,

But never will we mair, Jessie,

O never will we mair.

O for ance forgi'e me, Willie,
O for ance forgï'e me;
O for ance forgi'e me, Willie,

O for ance forgi'e me:

My heart is breaking-O relent!
You'll rue it gin you leave me;
The best ava, and wi' that coof
Again ye'll never see me, Willie,

Ne'er again ye'll see me.

Thou hast me subdued, Jessie,

Thou hast me subdued;
Thou hast me subdued, Jessie,

Thou hast me subdued:

Come to my arms, my dearest dear,
But mind you what you've vowed;
Let a' that's past for ever gang-
Our love is a' renewed, Jessie,

Our love is a' renewed.

Then thou art still my ain Willie ?
O yes, for aye your ain?
And thou art still my ain Jessie ?

For ever mair your ain:

Then there's my hand, ye hae my heartThis e'en we're nae mair twain;

We'll buckled be at Caldstream Brigg,

Whare mony ane has gane, Jessie,

Mony ane has gane.

FLORA.

Air-" I remember, I remember.”

EAR, lovely Flora, charming Flora,
Nature's Flora, be it mine

To heartfelt homage, and to pour a
Tribute to that worth of thine.

But vain thy worth with words I venture,
Flora, ever to unfold;

Of virtue's self thou art the centre-
Of every grace the living mould.

Artless, modest, ever smiling,

Sweet the social hearth to cheer, Every sorrow there beguiling

With a sympathy sincere.

Thy presence, Flora, joy and gladness
Magic'ly inspires in me;

Adieu my every care and sadness,
Angel Flora, when with thee.

Can I forget thee, Flora? never:
Can the sun forget to glow?

Can the flowers of Summer ever
Gem the wintry wastes of snow?

As on the tree the names we cherish
Stand, though changing seasons roll;
So thus enduring thine shall flourish
On the tablet of my soul.

And, since we part, may peace and pleasure, Flora, here for ever dwell—

Every boon and every treasure

Heaven bestows; now fare thee well.