But birds far from thy branches built, Glad summer scorned to grace Thee with her flowers, nor shepherds wooed Beside thy dwelling place: The axe has come and hewn thee down, Nor left one shoot to tell Where all thy stately glory grew: Adieu, adieu, Dalzell ! An ancient man stands by thy gate, Five brave and stately sons were his ; Two daughters, sweet and rare; An old dame, dearer than them all, And lands both broad and fair : T Two broke their hearts when two were slain, And three in battle fell An old man's curse shall cling to thee: And yet I sigh to think of thee, A warrior tried and true As ever spurr'd a steed, when thick I saw thee in thy stirrups stand, And hew thy foes down fast, When Grierson fled, and Maxwell fail'd, And Gordon stood aghast, And Graeme, saved by thy sword, raged fierce As one redeem'd from hell. I came to curse thee-and I weep: in peace, Dalzell. So go THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL. THOMAS PRINGLE, ESQ. Our native land, our native vale, Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale, And Cheviot mountains blue! Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds, Farewell, the blithesome broomy knowes, The mossy cave and mouldering tower The martyr's grave, and lover's bower, We bid a sad farewell! Home of our love! our father's home! The sail is flapping on the foam We seek a wild and distant shore, Our native land, our native vale, And Scotland's mountains blue! LAST NIGHT A PROUD PAGE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Last night a proud page came to me: The stars stream'd out, the new-woke moon The stars beam'd lovelier from the sky, Let seas between us swell and sound, Still at her name my heart shall bound; THE MARINER. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. It's sweet to go with hound and hawk, But its sweeter to bound o'er the deep green sea, For the seaboy has then the prayer of good men, And the sighing of lovesome woman. The wind is up, and the sail is spread, But when we come back, there is shout and clap, |