WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. LAST VERSES. [Given to a Friend a day or two before the Writer's Death.] Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling, Thou gentle heart; WHEN I beneath the cold red earth And though thy bosom should with am sleeping, Life's fever o'er. grief be swelling, Let no tear start: Will there for me be any bright eye It were in vain, - for Time hath long weeping That I'm no more? Will there be any heart still memory been knelling, "Sad one, depart!" MY HEID IS LIKE TO rend, MY heid is like to rend, Willie. It's vain to comfort me, Willie, Sair grief maun ha'e its will; But let me rest upon your briest To sab and greet my fill, Let me sit on your knee, Willie, Let me shed by your hair, And look into the face, Wiilie, I never sall see mair! I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie, Ay, press your hand upon my heart O, wae's me for the hour, Willie, When we thegither met, A weakness and a wickedness to O, wae's me for the time, Willie, borrow, From hearts that bleed, The wailings of to-day for what to morrow Shall never need. That our first tryst was set! O wae's me for the loanin' green Where we were wont to gae, And wae's me for the destinie That gart me luve thee sae! THE CAVALIER'S SONG. A STEED, -a steed of matchless speed! All else to noble hearts is dross, All else on earth is mean. The clangor of the trumpet loud, Be sounds from heaven that come; And oh! the thundering press of knights, Whenas their war-cries swell, May tole from heaven an angel bright, And rouse a fiend from hell. Then mount! then mount! brave gallants all, And don your helms amain: Death's couriers, fame and honor, call Us to the field again. No shrewish tear shall fill our eye When the sword-hilt's in our hand: Heart-whole, we'll part, and no whit sigh For the fairest of the land; Our business is like men to fight; JEANIE MORRISON. I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way; But never, never can forget The luve o' life's young day! O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison. Still fling their shadows ower my path, And blind my een with tears: That kiss the cheek, and kiss the They blind my een wi' saut, saut chin Ye never shall kiss mair! tears, And sair and sick I pine, The simmer leaves hung o'er our heads, The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin' o' the wood The throssil whusslit sweet; The throssil whusslit in the wood, And on the knowe abune the burn Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelin's forth, Unsyllabled, unsung! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Thine ear as it does mine! I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've borne a weary lot; The fount that first burst frae this heart Still travels on its way; O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o' your tongue; But I could hug all wretchedness, And happy could I dee, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed O' bygane days and me! THEY COME! THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS. THEY Come! the merry summer months of beauty, song, and flowers; The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to the hand; It stirs their blood with kindest love, to bless and welcome thee: There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of yon sky, But hath its own winged mariners to give it melody: Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all gleaming like red gold; But soft! mine ear upcaught a sound,- from yonder wood it came! LADY CAROLINE NAIRN. I'm wearin' awa', Jean, THE LAND O' THE LEAL. Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, Jean; To the Land o' the Leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean; I' the Land o' the Leal. "SERVE God and be cheerful." The motto "Serve God and be cheerful." The darkness Only masks the surprises of dawn; Shall be mine, as the bishop's of And the deeper and grimmer the old; On my soul's coat-of-arms, I will write it In letters of azure and gold. midnight, The brighter and sweeter the morn. "Serve God and be cheerful." The winter Rolls round to the beautiful spring, "Serve God and be cheerful," self- And in the green grave of the snow |