THERE was

once a day but old Time then was young

That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line, From some of your northern deities sprung: (Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?)

From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain, To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would: Her heavenly relations there fixèd her reign, And pledged her their godheads to warrant it good.

A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,

The pride of her kindred the heroine grew: Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore, "Whoe'er shall provoke thee, the encounter shall rue!"

With tillage or pasture at times she would sport, To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling

corn;

But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort, Her darling amusement the hounds and the

horn.

Long quiet she reigned, till thitherward steers

A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand, Repeated, successive, for many long years, They darkened the air, and they plundered

the land:

Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry, They'd conquered and ruined a world beside; She took to her hills, and her arrows let flyThe daring invaders they fled or they died.

The fell harpy-raven took wing from the north, The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore;

The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth

To wanton in carnage, and wallow in gore: O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevailed, No arts could appease them, no arms could repel;

But brave Caledonia in vain they assailed,
As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell.

The Cameleon-savage disturbed her repose, With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife:

Provoked beyond bearing, at last she arose, And robbed him at once of his hopes and

his life.

The Anglian lion, the terror of France,

Oft prowling, ensanguined the Tweed's silver flood;

But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance, He learned to fear in his own native wood.

Thus bold, independent, unconquered, and free, Her bright course of glory for ever shall run ; For brave Caledonia immortal must be;

I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun : Rectangle-triangle the figure we'll choose, The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base;

But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse;

Then ergo, she'll match them, and match them always.

And has my heart a-keeping?

O sweet is she that lo'es me,
As dews o' simmer weeping,
In tears the rose-buds steeping!
O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;

O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her!

If thou shalt meet a lassie

In grace and beauty charming, That e'en thy chosen lassie, Erewhile thy breast sae warming, Had ne'er sic powers alarming; O that's the lassie, etc.

If thou hadst heard her talking,
And thy attentions plighted,
That ilka body talking,

But her by thee is slighted,
And thou art all delighted;

O that's the lassie, etc.

If thou hast met this fair one,
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other fair one,

But her, thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted;
O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;

O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her!