A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, Ye could not Hester.

My sprightly neighbor, gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore,

Some summer morning,

When from thy cheerful eyes a ray Hath struck a bliss upon the day, A bliss that would not go away,

A sweet forewarning?

JAMES HOGG.

[1772-1835.]

WHEN MAGGY GANGS AWAY.

O, WHAT will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There's no a heart in a' the glen
That disna dread the day;·
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

Young Jock has ta'en the hill for 't,
A waefu' wight is he;

Poor Harry's ta'en the bed for 't,
An' laid him down to dee;
And Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
And learnin fast to pray;
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

The young laird o' the Lang Shaw
Has drunk her health in wine;
The priest has said-in confidence-
The lassie was divine;

And that is mair in maiden's praise
Than ony priest should say ;-
But O, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

The wailing in our green glen

That day will quaver high,

THE RAPTURE OF KILMENY.

121

BONNY Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
And pu' the cress-flower round the spring;
The scarlet hip and the hindberrye,
And the nut that hangs frae the hazel-
tree;

For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
And lang may she seek i' the green-wood
shaw;

Lang the laird of Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet, or Kilmeny come hame!

When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,

When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead-bell rung,

Late, late in a gloamin' when all was still,

When the fringe was red on the westlin' hill,

The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;

When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny came hame!

"Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?

Lang hae we sought baith holt and den,
By linn, by ford, by greenwood tree,
Yet you are halesome and fair to see.
Where gat you that joup o' the lily sheen?
That bonny snood o' the birk sae green?
And these roses, the fairest that ever were
seen?

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?"

Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face;

And the sig, that heaves a bosom she far:
And dear to Heaven the words of truth,
And the praise of virtue frae beauty's
mouth!

And dear to the viewless forms of air,
The minds that kythe as the body fair!
O bonny Kilmeny! free frae stain,
If ever you seek the world again,
That world of sin, of sorrow, and fear,-
O, tell of the joys that are waiting here,
And tell of the signs you shall shortly see;
Of the times that are now, and the times
that shall be."

i were rife,

⚫ mortal life;

r like a dream he

day Kilmeny wa born! land of the spirits, en what a womar may be! shines on the worlds bright, gleid of the fountain of light; on that sleeks the sky sae dun, den bow, or a bea. iess sun, ar away, and be sen nae mair, angels shall miss them travelling

the air.

ng, lang after baith night and day the sun and the world have elyc away;

n the sinner has gane to his waes doom,

meny shall smile in eternal b',

Then Kilmeny begged again to see
The friends she had left in her own coun-

trye,

To tell of the place where she had been, And the glories that lay in the land un

seen;

To warn the living maidens fair,
The loved of Heaven, the spirits' care,
That all whose minds uumeled remain
Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane.

With distant music, soft and deep,
They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep;
And when she awakened, she lay her lane,
All happed with flowers in the green-wood

wene.

When seven long years were come and fled;

When grief was calm, and hope was dead; When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's

name,

Late, late in a gloamin' Kilmeny came hame!

And O, her beauty was fair to see,
But still and steadfast was her e'e!
Such beauty bard may never declare,
For there was no pride nor passion there;
And the soft desire of maiden's een
In that mild face could never be seen.
Her seymar was the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower,
And her voice like the distant melodye,
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she loved to raike the lanely glen,
And keeped afar frae the haunts of

men;

Her holy hymns unheard to sing,

To suck the flowers, and drink the spring.
But wherever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered;
The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly bison lowed and kneeled;
The dun deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand.
And when at even the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,

O, then the glen was all in motion !
The wild beasts of the forest came,
Broke from their bughts and faulds the
tame,

And goved around, charmed and amazed;
Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed,
And murmured, and looked with anxious
pain

For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle-cock;
The corby left her houf in the rock;
The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew ;
The hind came tripping o'er the dew;
The wolf and the kid their raike began,
And the tod, and the lamb, and the
leveret ran;

123

The hawk and the hern attour them hung, And the merl and the mavis forhooyed their young;

And all in a peaceful ring were hurled;It was like an eve in a sinless world!

When a month and a day had come and

gane,

Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene; There laid her down on the leaves sae green,

And Kilmeny on earth was never mair

seen.

But O, the words that fell from her mouth

Were words of wonder, and words of truth!

But all the land were in fear and dread, For they kendna whether she was living or dead.

It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain;

She left this world of sorrow and pain, And returned to the Land of Thought again.

THOMAS MOORE.

[1779-1852.]

FLY TO THE DESERT.

FLY to the desert, fly with me,
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
But, O, the choice what heart can doubt,
Of tents with love, or thrones without?

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
The acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less
For flowering in a wilderness.
Our sands are bare, but down their slope
As gracefully and gayly springs
The silvery-footed antelope
As o'er the marble courts of kings.

Then come, -thy Arab maid will be
The loved and lone acacia-tree,
The antelope, whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loveliness.

O, there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it through life had sought;