Come, open the west port, and let me gang free,
And it's room for the bonnets of bonny Dundee !"
Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street,
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat,
But the provost, douce man, said, "Just e'en let him
be;

The gude town is weel quit of that deil of Dundee !"
As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her pow;
But the young plants of grace they looked couthie
[dee!"
Thinking "Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonny Dun-
With sour-featured Whigs the Grass-market was
crammed,

and slee,

As if half the West had set tryst to be hanged; There was spite in each look, there was fear in each ee,

As they watched for the bonnets of bonny Dundee. These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears,

And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers ;

But they shrunk to close heads, and the causeway was free

At the toss of the bonnet of bonny Dundee.

He spurred to the foot of the proud castle rock, And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke :"Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or three,

For the love of the bonnet of bonny Dundee."

The Gordon demands of him which way he goes; "Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose ! Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me, Or that low lies the bonnet of bonny Dundee.

"There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth;

If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the north:

[three There are wild Dunniewassals three thousand times Will cry 'hoigh' for the bonnets of bonny Dundee ! "There's brass on the target of barkened bull-hide; There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside: The brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash At a toss of the bonnet of bonny Dundee ! [free, Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks, Ere I own a usurper I'll couch with the fox: And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee: You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me.” He waved his proud hand, and the trumpets were blown,

The kettle-drums clashed, and the horsemen rode on, Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Clermiston's lee Died away the wild war-notes of bonny Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup; come, fill up my can; Come, saddle the horses; and call up the men; Come, open your gates, and let me go free, For it's up with the bonnet of bonny Dundee !"

THE ISLES OF GREECE-(Byron).
The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho lov'd and sung,-
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,-
But all, except their sun, is set.
The Scian and the Teian muse,

The hero's harp, the lover's lute,

Have found the fame your shores refuse:
Their place of birth, alone, is mute
To sounds that echo further west
Than your sires' "Islands of the blest."
The mountains look on Marathon,
And Marathon looks on the sea:
And musing there an hour alone,

I dreamed that Greece might still be free:
For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

A king sate on the rocky brow

Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis
And ships by thousands lay below,
And men in nations;-all were his !
He counted them at break of day,
And when the sun set where were they?

And where are they? and where art thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now—

The heroic bosom beats no more!
And must thy lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?

'Tis something in the dearth of fame,
Though link'd among a fetter'd race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face,
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush-for Greece a tear.

Must we but weep o'er days more bless'd?
Must we but blush? Our fathers bled.
Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!

Of the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Thermopyla!

What! silent still? and silent all?

Ah! no ;-the voices of the dead
Sound like a distant torrent's fall,

And answer, "Let one living head,
But one arise,—we come, we come;"
'Tis but the living who are dumb.
In vain-in vain strike other chords;
Fill high the cup of Samian wine!
Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,

And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
Hark! rising to the ignoble call—
How answers each bold bacchanal !
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet—
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget

The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gaveThink ye he meant them for a slave? Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! We will not think of themes like these!

It made Anacreon's song divine:

He served but served Polycrates

A tyrant; but our masters then
Were still, at least, our countrymen.

The tyrant of the Chersonese

Was freedom's best and bravest friend : That tyrant was Miltiades!

Oh! that the present hour would lend

Another despot of the kind!

Such chains as his were sure to bind.
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
On Suli's rock and Parga's shore

Exists the remnant of a line

Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And there, perhaps, some seed is sown
The Heracleidan blood might own.
Trust not for freedom to the Franks:
They have a king who buys and sells ;
In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells:
But Turkish force and Latin fraud,
Would break your shield, however broad.
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
Our virgins dance beneath the shade,
I see their glorious black eyes shine:
But gazing on each glowing maid,
Mine own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,

Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep:
There, swan-like, let me sing and die;
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine.

0

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

(Shakespeare.)

ACT I. SCENE II.-Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and Starveling.

Quince. Is all our company here?

Bottom. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.

Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his wedding-day at night.

C