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LOVE.

I told her how he pined: and, ah!
The low, the deep, the pleading tone,
With which I sang another's love,

Interpreted my own.

She listen’d with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace ;
And she forgave me that I gazed

Too fondly on her face!

But when I told the cruel scorn
Which crazed this bold and lovely Knight,
And that he cross'd the mountain-woods,

Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once

In green and sunny glade, ---

There came, and look'd him in the face',
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,

This miserable Knight!

And that, unknowing what he did.
He leap'd amid a muderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death

The Lady of the Land ;

And how she wept and clasp'd his knees,
And how she tended him in vain-
And ever strove to expiate

The scorn that crazed his brain :

And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away
When on the yellow forest-leaves

A dying man he lay ;

His dying words--but when I reach'd
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp

Disturb'd her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrillid my guileless Genevieve,
The music and the doleful tale,

The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng;
And gentle wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherish'd long!

She wept with pity and delight,
She blush'd with love and virgin shame ;
And, like the murmur of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved-she stept aside ;
As conscious of my look, she stept --
Then suddenly, with timorous eye

She fled to me, and wept.

She half inclosed me with her arms, She press'd me with a meek embrace ; And, bending back her head, look'd up

And gazed upon my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art That I might rather feel, than see,

The swelling of her heart.

I calm’d her fears; and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,

My bright and beauteous Bride!

THE

FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

I've seen the smiling

Of Fortune beguiling :
I've felt all its favours, and found its decay :

Sweet was its blessing,

Kind its caressing;
But now it is fled—it is fled far away.

I've seen the forest

Adorned the foremost With flowers of the fairest most pleasant and gay ;

Sae bonnie was their blooming !

Their scent the air perfuming!
But now they are wither'd and weded away.

I've seen the morning

With gold the hills adorning,
And loud tempest storming before the mid-day.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

I've seen Tweed's silver streams

Shining in the sunny beams, Grow drumly and dark as he row'd on his way.

[graphic]

Oh, fickle Fortune,

Why this cruel sporting? Oh, why still perplex us, poor sons of a day :

Nae mair your smiles can cheer me,

Nae mair your frowns can fear me; For the Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. YARROW UNVISITED.

From Stirling Castle we had seen

The mazy Forth unravell’d;
Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,

And with the Tweed had travellid;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said

my

“ Winsome marrow," “Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,

And see the Braes of Yarrow."

66

Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk Town,

Who have been buying, selling,
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own ;

Each maiden to her dwelling!
On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,

Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
But we will downwards with the Tweed,

Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

“ There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,

Both lying right before us; And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed

The lintwhites sing in chorus; There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land

Made blythe with plough and harrow : Why throw away a needful day

To go in search of Yarrow ?

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