THE SOLDIER'S DREAM,

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array

Far, far I had roam’d on a desolate track: 'Twas Autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore

From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o’er,

And my wife sobb’d aloud in her fulness of heart.

“Stay, stay with us,-rest! thou art weary and worn!"--

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return’d with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming car melted away.

As I came in by Inverness,

The simmer sun was sinking down. () there I saw the weel-faur'd lass,

And she was greeting through the town. The grey-hair'd men were a' i' the streets,

And auld dames crying (sad to see!) “ The flower o' the lads of Inverness

Lie dead upon ('ulloden-lee!"

THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS.

“ He trysted me o' love yestreen,

Of love-tokens he gave me three; * But he's faulded i' the arms o'weir,

O ne'er again to think o' me! The forest flowers shall be my bed,

My food shall be the wild berrie; The fa' o' the leaf shall co'er me cauld,

And wauken'd again I winna be !"

O weep, 0 weep, ye Scottish dames,

Weep till ye blin' ae mither’s ee;
Nae reeking ha' in fifty miles,

But naked corses sad to see!
O spring is blythesome to the year,

Trees sprout, flowers spring, and birds sing hie; But O! what spring can raise them up,

That lie on dread Culloden-lee?

The hand o' God hung heavy here,

And lightly touch'd foul tyrannie; It struck the righteous to the ground,

And lifted the destroyer hie. “ But there's a day," quo' my God in prayer,

“When righteousness shall bear the gree; I'll rake the wicked low i' the dust,

And wauken in bliss the gude man's ee!”