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But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierced with many a wound;
Those bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales,
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past unhappy loves!
Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those!
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!*

BURNS.

To fair FIDELE's grassy tomb

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.

This pathetic piece, the genuine expression of the writer's own feelings, was written when he had taken a resolution to quit his native country for the West Indies, in consequence of the difficulties in which he was involved.

No

No wailing ghost shall dare appear

To vex with shrieks this quiet grove, 'T
But shepherd lads assemble here,

T

And melting virgins own their love.

No wither'd witch shall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew;
But female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

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The redbreast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss and gather'd flowers
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling winds and beating rain
In tempests shake the sylvan cell,
Or 'midst the chase upon the plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.

Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Beloved, till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd, till pity's self be dead. *

COLLINS.

* Written as a Dirge on the supposed death of Imogen, in Shakespear's" Cymbeline."

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MORNING AND EVENING.

SAY, Sweet carol! who are they
Who cheerly greet the rising day?
Little birds in leafy bower;
Swallows twitt'ring on the tower;
Larks upon the light air borne ;
Hunters roused with shrilly horn;
The woodman whistling on his way;
The new-waked child at early play,
Who barefoot prints the dewy green,
Winking to the sunny sheen ;

And the meek maid who binds her yellow hair,
And blithely doth her daily task prepare.

Say, sweet carol! who are they
Who welcome in the evening gray?
The housewife trim, and merry lout,
Who sit the blazing fire about;
The sage a-conning o'er his book;
The tired wight in rushy nook,
Who, half asleep, but faintly hears
The gossip's tale hum in his ears;

The

The loosen'd steed in grassy stall;

The Thanies feasting in the hall;
But most of all the maid of cheerful soul,
Who fills her peaceful warrior's flowing bowl.*
JOANNA BAILLIE.

TO MAY.

BORN in yon blaze of orient sky,

Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold;
Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,

And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

For Thee the fragrant zephyrs blow,

For Thee descends the sunny shower,
The rills in softer murmurs flow,

And brighter blossoms gem the bower.

Light Graces, drest in flowery wreaths,

And tiptoe Joys their hands combine;
And Love his sweet contagion breathes,
And, laughing, dances round thy shrine.

* Introduced in the tragedy of " Ethwald," act ii. The beautiful imagery in this song is accommodated to the time of the Saxon Heptarchy.

Warm

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Warm with new life the glittering throngs,
On quivering fin and rustling wing,
Delighted join their votive songs,
And hail thee, Goddess of the Spring. *

THE SOLDIER.

WHAT dreaming drone was ever blest
By thinking of the morrow?

To day be mine-I leave the rest
To all the fools of sorrow:

Give me the mind that mocks at care,
The heart, its own defender;
The spirits that are light as air,
And never beat surrender.

On comes the foe-to arms-to arms-
We meet 'tis death or glory:

'Tis victory in all her charms,

Or fame in Britain's story :

DARWIN.

* This piece, which possesses all the brilliancy and high finish characteristic of the author's poetry, is inserted in "The Botanic Garden," part ii.

Dear

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