At heart:-ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing ;

The sickness-the nausea-
The pitiless pain—

Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain-

With the fever called "Living "
That burned in my brain.

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38

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44

For Annie

And, to sleep, you must slumber

In just such a bed.

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58

66

72

78

1849.

When the light was extinguished

She covered me warm,

And she prayed to the angels

To keep me from harm-
To the queen of the angels

To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)

That you fancy me dead—
And I rest so contentedly,
Now, in my bed,

(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me dead-

That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead:-

But my heart it is brighter

Than all of the many

Stars in the sky,

For it sparkles with Annie

It glows with the light

Of the love of my Annie-
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.

84

Edgar Allan Poe.

94

102

НАМЕ, НАМЕ, НАМЕ

HAME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be-
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree,

The larks shall sing me hame in my ain

countree;

Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be-
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

The green leaf o' loyaltie 's beginning for

to fa',

The bonnie White Rose it is withering an' a'; But I'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping

tyrannie,

An' green it will graw in my ain countree.

O, there's nocht now frae ruin my country

can save,

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6

ΤΟ

But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave; That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie May rise again an' fight for their ain

countree.

14

The great now are gane, a' wha ventured to

save,

The new grass is springing on the tap o' their

grave;

But the sun through the mirk blinks blythe

in my e'e,

"I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.”

Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I beO hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! Allan Cunningham.

1810.

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20

COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,

I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do;-
Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

O to call back the days that are not!

My eyes were blinded, your words were few:

Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

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