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A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell ; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! Did ye not hear it ?—No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feetBut, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar! Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell : He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated : who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet, such awful morn could rise ? And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;

And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; .
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star :
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering, with white lips—“The foe! They

come! They come!”.
And wild and high the “Camerons' gathering” rose ! -
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes :-
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill ! but, with the breath which fills .
Their mountain-pipe, so fills the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years :
And Evan's, Donald's fame, rings in each clansman's


And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,—alas !
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and

low. .
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife;
The morn, the marshalling in arms; the day,
Battle's magnificently stern array !
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, .
Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent! .
MORNING SONG.Cunningham.
OH, come! for the lily

Is white on the lea;
Oh, come! for the wood-doves

Are paired on the tree :
The lark sings with dew

On her wings and her feet; The thrush pours his ditty,

Loud, varied, and sweet : So come where the twin-hares

'Mid fragrance have been, And with flowers I will weave thee

A crown like a queen.

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There's joy in the heaven

And gladness on earth-
So, come to the sunshine,

And mix in the mirth.


The quality of mercy is not strained ; . It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of Kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the heart of Kings; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.



The wind blew hollow frae the hills,

By fits the sun's departing beam Looked on the fading yellow woods

That waved o’er Lugar's winding stream:

Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard

Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewailed his lord,

Whom death had all untimely ta’en.

He leaned him to an ancient aik,

Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; His locks were bleached white wi' time!

His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears !
And as he touched his trembling harp,

And as he tuned his doleful sang,
The winds, lamenting through their caves,

To echo bore the notes alang.

“ Ye scattered birds that faintly sing,

The reliques of the vernal choir !
Ye woods that shed on a' the winds

The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and glad and gay,

Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
But nocht in all revolving time

Can gladness bring again to me.

“I am a bending aged tree,

That long has stood the wind and rain : But now has come a cruel blast,

And my last hald of earth is gane : Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,

Nae summer sun exalt my bloom; But I maun lie before the storm,

And ithers plant them in my room.

“I've seen sae mony changefu' years,

On earth I am a stranger grown; I wander in the ways of men,

Alike unknowing and unknown :

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