OLD HANNAH.

1. 'Tis Sabbath morn, and a holy balm Drops down on the heart like dew, And the sunbeams gleam

Like a blessed dream

Afar on the mountains blue.
Old Hannah's by her cottage door,
In her faded widow's cap;
She is sitting alone

On the old gray stone,
With the Bible in her lap.

2. An oak is hanging o'er her head,
And the burn is wimpling by;
The primroses peep

From their sylvan keep,

And the lark is in the sky.

Beneath that shade her children played,

But they're all away with Death,

And she sits alone

On the old gray stone

To hear what the Spirit saith.

3. Her years are o'er threescore and ten, And her eyes are waxing dim,

But the page is bright

With a living light,

And her heart leaps up to Him
Who pours the mystic harmony
Which the soul can only hear!
She is not alone

On the old gray stone,

Tho' no earthly friend is near.

4. There's no one left to love her now; But the Eye that never sleeps

Looks on her in love

From the heavens above,

And with quiet joy she weeps:
She feels the balm of bliss is pour'd
In her lone heart's deepest rut;
And the widow lone

On the old gray stone,

Has a peace the world knows not.

Alexander M'Lachlan.

THROUGH THE WOOD.

1. Through the wood, through the wood,
Warbles the merle !

Through the wood, through the wood,
Gallops the earl!

Yet he heeds not its song

As it sinks on his ear,

For he lists to a voice

Than its music more dear.

2. Through the wood, through the wood,

Once and away,

The castle is gain'd,

And the lady is gay :

When her smile becomes sad,

And her eyes become dim;

Her bosom is glad,

When she gazes on him!

3. Through the wood, through the wood,

Over the wold,

Rides onward a band

Of true warriors bold;

They stop not for forest,

They halt not for water;

Their chieftain in sorrow

Is seeking his daughter.

4. Through the wood, through the wood, Warbles the merle;

Through the wood, through the wood,
Prances the earl;

And on a gray palfrey

Comes pacing his bride;

While an old man sits smiling,
In joy, by her side.

William Anderson.

EPIC POETRY. — THE BALLAD.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

1. When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's1 come hame, And a' the weary warld to rest are gane,

The waes o' my heart fa'2 in showers frae my ee,3
Unkent by my guidman,5 wha sleeps sound by me.

2. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride,
But saving ae crown-piece he had naething beside;
To make the crown a pound my Jamie gaed to sea,
And the crown and the pound-they were baith for me.

3. He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day,

When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown' away;
My mither she fell sick-my Jamie was at sea,
And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me.

4. My father couldna work-my mother couldna spin-
I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee,
Said, "Jeanie, O for their sakes, will ye no marry me?"
5. My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back,
But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack,

1 cows.

2 fall. 3 eye. 4 unknown. 5 husband.

6 one.

7 stolen.

His ship was a wrack-why didna Jamie dee,
Or why am I spared to cry wae is me?

6. My father urged me sair1-my mither didna speak,
But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break;
They gied him my hand-my heart was in the sea-
And so Robin Gray he was guidman to me.

7. I hadna been his wife a week but only four,

When, mournfu' 2 as I sat on the stane at my door,
I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he,
Till he said: “I'm come hame, love, to marry thee!"
8. Oh, sair sair did we greet,3 and mickle1 say of a',5
I gied him ae kiss, and bade him gang awa'6

I wish that I were dead, but I'm na like to die,

For, though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me!

9. I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,

I daurna think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin,

But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,

For, oh! Robin Gray, he is kind to me.

Lady Anne Barnard (1750-1825).

THE DIVER.

(From the German.)

1. "Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold As to dive to the howling Charybdis below?

I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,

And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
Whoever to me may the goblet bring,

Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."

2. He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep, That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge

1

2 mournful. 3 weep. 4 much.

5 all.

away.

much. very 7 A whirlpool between Italy and Sicily, said, in ancient times, to have been very dangerous; hence, generally, any whirlpool.

Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,

Swirled into the maëlstrom that maddened the surge. "And where is the diver so stout to go

I ask ye again—to the deep below?"

3. And the knights and the squires that gathered around,
Stood silent-and fixed on the ocean their eyes;
They looked on the dismal and savage Profound,
And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize.
And thrice spoke the monarch-"The cup to win,
Is there never a wight who will venture in?"

4. And all, as before, heard in silence the king,

Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
'Mid the tremulous squires-stepped out from the ring,
Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.

5. As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,
Lo! the wave that for ever devours the wave,

Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again;
And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.

6. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
As when fire is with water commixed and contending,
And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,

And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;
And it never will rest, nor from travail be free,
Like a sea that is labouring the birth of a sea.

7. Yet, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commotion,

And dark through the whiteness, and still through the swell, The whirlpool cleaves downward and downward in ocean,

A yawning abyss, like the pathway to hell;
The stiller and darker the farther it goes,
Sucked into that smoothness the breakers repose.

8. The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before
That path through the riven abyss closed again,
Hark! a shriek from the gazers that circle the shore,-
And, behold! he is whirled in the grasp of the main!