The Isle of May. LONELY is the Isle of May, 'Mid the wild winds' changeful sighing, 'Mid the rippling waters' play, 'Mid the seamaw's eerie crying Stands the lonely Isle of May. Holy is the Isle of May, For upon its turf of green, Sprinkled by the salt waves' spray, Blest St Adrian's grave is seen. There his holy life he led, Whom the Danes for Christ did slay, There in martyrdom he bled On the hallowed Isle of May. There he fasted, there he toiled, There for Scotland did he pray,-Gaining blessings, like a sea-cloud From the distant Isle of May. Even yet, the seaman gliding In his bark past yonder bay, Sees a light from heaven shining O'er the grave wherein he lay.* Shining o'er the restless ocean, And the fisher turns rejoicing * It is the belief of the fishermen of the Firth of Forth, and was so long before the lighthouse was built, that a miraculous light is still seen shining above the spot where St Adrian was buried. The Oid Stone of Scone, WHEN Jacob left his father's home, A wanderer and by stealth, Through friendless stranger lands to roam, His staff his only wealth, He sat him by the wayside drear, And laid, as heavy sleep drew near, Then to the slumbering man was given Of angel bands, 'tween earth and heaven, And there appeared an arch of light, As pathway for those seraphs bright, And at the top, 'twas his to see Who said, "Behold I give to thee "And where thou liest, there shall be Then Jacob rose from sleep, and thought, "How awful is this spot, I to God's presence have been brought, And yet I knew it not." And oil upon the Stone he poured, Thus consecrated to the Lord, Strange changes came as Time rolled on, And to the distant north Men bore the patriarch's pillow-stone, It rested first on Erin's Isle, Next blest Dunstaffnage gray. The kings of Scotland there were crowned, For prophecy was plain : That, "wheresoe'er that Stone were found, The Scottish race should reign." And when our ancient kings removed So when to Westminster it came, And by that blood our monarchs reign, |