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GLOOMY WINTER'S NOW AWA'.
The mavis sings fu' cheary O;
My young, my artless dearie 0.
'Midst joys that never weary 0.
Adorn the banks sae briery O;
And ilka thing is cheary 0;.
Unless wi' thee, my dearie, 0.
TOLL NOT THE BELL OF DEATH FOR ME.
When I am dead :
On my cold bed.
Gemming with pearls my bier
When I am dead.
My fate to spread :
When I am dead.
Sighs quickly sped.
When I am dead.
CRAZY JANE.-By M. G. Lewis. Why, fair maid, in every feature,
Are such signs of fear express'd ? Can a wandering, wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast ? Do my frenzied Jooks alarm thee?
Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain; Not for kingdoms would I harm thee;
Shun not then poor crazy Jane. Dost thou weep to see my anguish ?
and avoid my wo; When men flatter, sigh and languish,
Think them false--I found them so. For I lov'd-ain! so sincerely,
None could ever love again;
But the youth I lov'd so dearly,
Stole the wits of crazy Jane. Fondly my young heart receiv'd him,
Which was doom'd to love but one : He sigh’d-he vow'd-and I believ'd him,
He was false, and I undone. From that hour has reason never
Held her empire o'er my brain : Henry fled-with him for ever
Fled the wits of crazy Jane. Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thought beset, On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot were first we inet, Still I sing my lovelorn ditty,
Still 1 slowly pace the plain ; While each passer-by, in pity,
Cries—God help thee, crazy Jane !
THE CARRIER PIGEON.-By Percival. Come hither, thou beautiful rover,
Thou wand'rer of earth and of air; Who hearest the sighs of the lover,
And bringest him news of his fair : Bend hither thy light-waving pinion,
And show me the gloss of thy neck; O! perch on my hand, dearest minion,
And turn up thy bright eye and peck. Here is bread of the whitest and sweetest,
And there is a sip of red wine; Tho'thy wing is the lightest and fleetest,
'Twill be fleeter when nerv'd by the vine ; I have written on rose-scented paper,
With thy wing-quill, a soft billet-doux, I have inelted the wax in love's taper,
"Tis the color of true hearts, sky-blue. I have fasten'd it under thy pinion,
With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck ; So go from me, beautiful minion,
While the pure ether shows not a speck. Like a cloud in the dim distance fleeting,
Like an arrow he hurries away; And farther and farther retreating,
He is lost in the clear blue of day.
THE LAVENDER GIRL.
AIR_ Morgiana in Ireland." As the sun climbs o'er the hills,
When the sky-larks sing so cheerily, I my little basket fill,
And trudge along the village merrily.
I but laugh at Cupid's dart;
By trudging along to sell my lavender. Ladies, try it, come and buy it,
Never saw ye nicer lavender; Ladies, try it, try it, try it,
Come, come, buy my lavender. Ere the gentry quit their beds,
Foes to health, I'm wisely keeping it; Oft I earn my daily bread,
And sit beneath the hedge partaking it..
Ne'er repining, ne'er distress d,
Tell me, then, am not I bless'd ? Tho' not wealthy, I'm young and healthy, And only care to sell my lavender.
Ladies, try it, &c.
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF SIR JOHN
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried,
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
The turf with our bayonets turning,
And our lanterns dimly burning.
And we spoke not a word of sorrow,
And we bitterly thought on the morrow. No useless coffin confined his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
And smooth'd down his loncly pillow,
And we far away on the billow. [his head, Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, But nothing he'll reck if they let him sleep on,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.