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ODE TO THE CUCKOO.

Hall, beauteous stranger of the grove !

Thou messenger of Spring!
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,

And woods thy welcome sing.
What time the daisy decks the green,

Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,

Or mark the rolling year ?
Delightful visitant! with thee

I hail the time of flowers,
And hear the sound of music sweet

From birds among the bowers.
The school-boy, wandering through the wood

To pull the primrose gay,
Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay.
What time the pea puts on the bloom

Thou fliest thy vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,

Another Spring to hail.
Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,

No winter in thy year!
O could I fly, I'd fly with thee!

We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,

Companions of the Spring.

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LADY ANNE LINDSAY, the eldest daughter of James Earl of Balcarras, was born on the 8th of December, 1750. In 1793 she married Sir Andrew Barnard, librarian to George the Third, and the person to whom Dr. Johnson addressed his celebrated Letter on the formation of a Library. Sir Andrew died 27th of October, 1807, and his Lady, on the 8th of May, 1825, without leaving any issue.

Her celebrated song, “ Auld Robin Gray," was written about the year 1772. Its origin is simply this:-Lady Anne Lindsay was, to use her own expression, "passionately fond" of an ancient Scottish melody, called “ The bridegroom grat when the sun gaed down." This air was sung to her by an aged person at Balcarras, with the old and rather free-spoken words. Her sister Margaret had just married, and left Balcarras with her husband for London; she was melancholy on this occasion, and endeavoured to amuse herself by attempting a few poetical trifles. “I longed to sing old Sophy's air,” Lady Barnard writes to Sir W. Scott, July 1823, “to different words, and give its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might suit it.” To do this, Lady Anne imagined a heroine, oppressed her with many misfortunes, sent her Jamie to sea, broke her father's arm, made her mother fall sick, and gave her “ Auld Robin Gray" (the name of a herd at Balcarras) for a lover. She wished then to load her (poor thing) with a fifth sorrow; and while attempting to effect this in her closet, she called on her little sister, afterwards Lady Hardwicke, who was the only person near her, to help her to another misfortune. “Steal the cow, sister Anne,” said the little girl; and Lady Anne immediately listed the cow, and completed her song. "Auld Robin Gray” became immediately popular, At the fireside of Balcarras, and amongst the neighbouring peasantry, the song was always called for. “I was pleased in secret," says Lady Barnard, “with the approbation it met with; but such was my dread of being suspected of writing any thing, perceiving the shyness it created in those who could write nothing, that I carefully kept my own secret.” The song now wanted the name of an author; the words wore an air of antiquity. Robin Gray was soon, therefore, attributed to David Rizzio, the unfortunate minstrel of Mary Queen of Scots, and as such was considered as a great curiosity. Soon, however, this notion was thrown aside; and some inquisitive person boldly offered in the public newspapers a reward of twenty guineas to any person who would ascertain the authorship past a doubt. “I was persecuted," writes Lady Barnard, “to avow whether I had written it or not, or say where I had got it." In the mean time, an ambassador from the Antiquarian Society of Edinburgh, in the person of Mr. Jerningham, their Secretary, paid her a visit, and endeavoured to entrap the truth from her in a way she “took amiss." Nothing was gained from this visit;“had he asked the question obligingly.” Lady Barnard writes, “ I should have told him the fact distinctly and confidentially.” In July 1823, however, Lady Barnard acknowledged the authorship in a letter to Sir Walter Scott, and sent him two continuations of the song, which she had written long after the song itself. In these, Auld Robin Gray falls sick, confessing that he stole the cow in order to force Jenny to marry him, and dying, leaves what he has to the young couple, who are, of course, immediately united. One of these " Continuations" we have given.

The ballad, with the continuations, and the letter acknowledging the authorship, were privately printed by Sir Walter Scott, as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club.

Sir Walter added to the ballad the following verse; in which it will be perceived he has borrowed an idea from the Continuation:

“Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent,

Despair it was come, and she thonght it content ;
She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale,

And she droop'd like a lily broke down by the hail." Such is the interesting history of one of the most pathetic and affecting compositions that has ever been penned. It is a most perfect picture; the characters of the sad drama-for such it is-seem actually before us as we read; it would be difficult to peruse it without the interruptions of sobs and tears; and perhaps it may be taken as

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

When the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame,
When a' the weary warld to quiet rest are gane;
The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
Unken’d by my gudeman, who soundly sleeps by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride
But saving ae crown piece, he'd naething else beside.
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea ;
And the crown and the pound, Õ they were baith for me!

Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day,
My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away;
My mother she fell sick—my Jamie was at sea-

num the fact distinctly and confidentially." In July 1823, however, Lady Barnard acknowledged the authorship in a letter to Sir Walter Scott, and sent him two continuations of the song, which she had written long after the song itself. In these, Auld Robin Gray falls sick, confessing that he stole the cow in order to force Jenny to marry him, and dying, leaves what he has to the young couple, who are, of course, immediately united. One of these “ Continuations" we have given.

The ballad, with the continuations, and the letter acknowledging the authorship, were privately printed by Sir Walter Scott, as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club.

Sir Walter added to the ballad the following verse; in which it will be perceived he has borrowed an idea from the Continuation:

“Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent,

Despair it was come, and she thonght it content ;
She thought it content, but her cheek grew pale,

And she droop'd like a lily broke down by the hail." Such is the interesting history of one of the most pathetic and affecting compositions that has ever been penned. It is a most perfect picture ; the characters of the sad drama-for such it is-seem actually before us as we read; it would be difficult to peruse it without the interruptions of sobs and tears ; and perhaps it may be taken as

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When the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame,
When a' the weary warld to quiet rest are gane;
The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
Unken'd by my gudeman, who soundly sleeps by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride
But saving ae crown piece, he'd naething else beside.
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea;
And the crown and the pound, O they were baith for me!
Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day,
My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away;
My mother she fell sick—my Jamie was at sea-

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