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And our old Baron rose in might,

Like a lion from his den,
And rode away across the hills
To Charlie and his men,
With the valiant Scottish cavaliers,

All of the olden time!

He was the first that bent the knee

When The STANDARD waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe

On Preston's bloody sod;
And ever, in the van of fight,

The foremost still he trod,
Until on bleak Culloden's heath,
He gave his soul to God,
Like a good old Scottish cavalier,

All of the olden time!

Oh! never shall we know again

A heart so stout and true-
The olden times have passed away,

And weary are the new :
The fair White Rose has faded

From the garden where it grew,
And no fond tears, save those of heaven,
The glorious bed bedew ..
Of the last old Scottish cavalier,

All of the olden time!


BE kind to each other !

The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother

Perchance may be gone !

Then 'midst our dejection

How sweet to have earned
The blest recollection

Of kindness-returned !
When day hath departed,

And memory keeps
Her watch, broken-hearted,

Where all she loved sleeps !
Let falsehood assail not,

Nor envy disprove-
Let trifles prevail not

Against those ye love !
Nor change with to-morrow,

Should fortune take wing;
But the deeper the.sorrow,

The closer still cling !
Oh, be kind to each other !

The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother

Perchance may be gone !


O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ;
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swarn the Esk river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late :
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 'Mong bride'smen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) “O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war ? Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" “ Į long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tideAnd now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup, She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,– “ Now tread we a measure !” said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace,
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and

plume ; And the bride-maidens whispered, “'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young


One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger

stood near, So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! “She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow !" quoth young



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But the grave-yard lies between them, Mary,
And my step might break your rest-
For 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, oh! they love the better still,
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessin' and my pride :
There's nothin' left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arms' young strength was gone;
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow-
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Tho' you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break,
When the hunger pain was gnawin' then,
And you hid it for my sake!
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore
Oh ! I am thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more!

I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary, kind and true !
But I'll not forget you, darlin'!
In the land I'm goin' to ;

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