And see the matin lark mistakes,

He quits the tufted green;

Fond bird! 'tis not the morning breaks-
'Tis Kate of Aberdeen.

Now lightsome o'er the level mead,
Where midnight fairies rove,
Like them the jocund dance we'll lead,
Or tune the reed to love;

For see the rosy May draws nigh,
She claims a virgin queen ;
And hark, the happy shepherd's cry,
'Tis Kate of Aberdeen.

Anne Hunter.*

Born 1742. Died 1821.

INDIAN DEATH SONG.

THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when their lights fade away.
Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain,
For the son of Alknomook will never complain.

* Mrs. Hunter was the wife of John Hunter, the celebrated anatomist; her maiden name was Home.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;

Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low.

Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain?

No! the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:
Now the flame rises fast; ye exult in my pain;

But the son of Alknomook can never complain.

I

go

to the land where my father is gone ;

His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son.

Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain;

And thy son, O Alknomook, has scorned to complain!

Edwin Waugh.

Born 1819.

COME WHOAM TO THY CHILDER
AN' ME.

Aw've just mended th' fire wi' a cob;

Owd Swaddle has brought thi new shoon ;

There's some nice bacon-collops o'th hob,
An' a quart o' ale-posset i'th oon;

Aw've brought thi top-cwot, does ta know,

For th' rain's comin' deawn very dree; An' th' har'stone's as white as new snow; Come whoam to thi childer an' me.

When aw put little Sally to bed,

Hoo cried, 'cose her feyther weren't theer, So, aw kissed th' little thing, an' aw said

Tha'ed bring her a ribbon fro th' fair;
An' aw gav her her doll, an' some rags,
An' a nice little white cotton bo';
An' aw kissed her again; but hoo said
At hoo wanted to kiss thee an' o'.

An' Dick, too, aw'd sich wark wi’him,
Afore aw could get him up stairs;
Thae towd him thae'd bring him a drum,

He said, when he're sayin' his prayers:
Then he looked i' my faze, an' he said,

"Has th' boggarts taen houd o' my dad?" An' he cried whol his e'en were quite red ;He likes thee some weel, does yon lad!

;

At th' lung-length, aw geet 'em laid still An' aw hearken't folk's feet at went by; So aw iron't o' my clooas reet weel,

An' aw hanged 'em o'th maiden to dry; When aw'd mended thi stockin's an' shirts, Aw sit deawn to knit i' my cheer,

An' aw rayley did feel rayther hurt,—
Mon, aw'm one-ly when theaw artn't theer.

“Aw've a drum an' a trumpet for Dick;

Aw’ve a yard o' blue ribbin for Sal;
Aw've a book full o' babs; an' a stick

An' some 'bacco an' pipes for mysel;
Aw've brought thee some coffee an' tay;
Iv thae'll feel i' my pocket, thae'll see ;
An' aw've bought tho a new cap to-day,—
But, aw olez bring summat for thee!

"God bless tho, mo lass; aw'll go whoam, An' aw'll kiss thee an' th' childer o' reawnd; Thae knows, at wheerever aw roam,

Aw'm fain to get back to th' owd greawnd;

Aw can do wi' a crack o'er a glass;

Aw can do wi' a bit ov a spree;

But aw've no gradely comfort, mo lass,

Except wi'

Alexander Smith.

Born 1830.

LADY BARBARA.

EARL GAWAIN Wooed the Lady Barbara,-
High-thoughted Barbara, so white and cold!
'Mong broad-branched beeches in the summer shaw,
In soft green light his passion he has told.
When rain-beat winds did shriek across the wold,
The Earl to take her fair reluctant ear
Framed passion-trembled ditties manifold;
Silent she sat his am'rous breath to hear,

With calm and steady eyes, her heart was otherwhere.

;

He sighed for her through all the summer weeks
Sitting beneath a tree whose fruitful boughs
Bore glorious apples with smooth-shining cheeks,
Earl Gawain came and whispered, "Lady, rouse!
Thou art no vestal held in holy vows;

Out with our falcons to the pleasant heath."
Her father's blood leapt up unto her brows-
He who, exulting on the trumpet's breath,
Came charging like a star across the lists of death,

Trembled, and passed before her high rebuke:
And then she sat, her hands clasped round her knee

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