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THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

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UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud

had lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground over

power'd, The

weary to sleep and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the

slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array

Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas Autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me

back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was

young ; I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers

sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From

my home and my weeping friends never

to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of

heart.

Stay, stay with us,-rest; thou art weary and worn!

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

CAMPBELL.

A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE.1

[OLD.)

THI

WHIS ae nighte, this ae nighte,

Everie nighte and alle,
Fire, and selte, and candle-lighte,

And Christe receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past,

Everie nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou comest at last,

And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,

Everie nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on,

And Christe receive thy saule.
If hosen and shoon thou gavest nane,

Everie nighte and alle,
The whinnes shall pricke thee to the bare bane,

And Christe receive thy saule.
From Whinny-muir when thou mayst passe,

Everie nighte and alle,
To Brigg o' Dread thou comest at last,

And Christe receive thy saule.

See Note.

*

From Brigg o' Dread when thou mayst passe,

Everie nighte and alle,
To Purgatory Fire thou comest at last,

And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest meate or drinke,

Everie nighte and alle,
The fire shall never make thee shrinke,

And Christe receive thy saule.
If meate or drinke thou gavest nane,

Everie nighte and alle,
The fire will burne thee to the bare bane,

And Christe receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,

Everie nighte and alle,
Fire, and selte, and candle-lighte,

And Christe receive thy saule.

WHERE HE WOULD HAVE HIS

VERSES READ.

IT

N sober mornings, do not thou rehearse

The holy incantation of a verse ;But when that men have both well drunk and fed Let my

enchantments then be sung or read. When laurel spirts i' the fire, and when the hearth Smiles to itself and gilds the roof with mirth; When

up the Thyrse is raised, and when the sound Of sacred orgies flies around around; When the rose reigns, and locks with ointment

shine, Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine.

HERRICK.

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YOUNG LOCHINVAR.

(FROM " MARMION.”]

YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west!

the best; And save his good broadsword he weapon had none; He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar!

He stay'd not for brake and he stopt not for stone; He swam the Eske river where ford there was

none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late ; For a laggard in love and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So bravely he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and

all ;

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his

sword, For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, “ O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”

“I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ;Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Loch

invar!"

The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine and he threw down the

сир; ; She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to

sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,“Now tread we ameasure!” said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and

plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, “ 'Twere better

by far

To have match'd our fair cousin with young Loch

invar !”

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door; and the charger

stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! “ She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush and

scaur! They'll have fleet steeds that follow!” quoth young

Lochinvar.

There was mounting'mong Græmes of the Netherby

clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and

they ran;

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