The great now are gane, a' wha ventured to

save,

The new grass is springing on the tap o' their

grave;

But the sun through the mirk blinks blythe

in my e'e,

"I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree."

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Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I beO hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! 20 Allan Cunningham.

1810.

"DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENDER AND TRUE"

COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,

I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do;-
Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

O to call back the days that are not!

My eyes were blinded, your words were few: Do you know the truth now up in heaven, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

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12

I never was worthy of you, Douglas;

Not half worthy the like of you::

Now all men beside seem to me like shadowsI love you, Douglas, tender and true.

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Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;
As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

1859.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.

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THE LAND O' THE LEAL

I'm wearin' awa', John,

Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,

I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal!

There's nae sorrow there, John,

There's neither cauld nor care, John,
The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal!

Our bonnie bairn 's there, John,

She was baith gude and fair, John;
And, oh! we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal.

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,

And joy 's a-coming fast, John,

The joy that 's aye to last

In the land o' the leal!

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16

1798?

Sae dear 's the joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought

To the land o' the leal!

Oh! dry your glistening e'e, John!
My saul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

Oh! haud ye leal and true, John!
Your day it's wearin' through, John,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.

Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,

This warld's cares are vain, John,

We'll meet, and we 'll be fain,

In the land o' the leal.

Carolina, Lady Nairne.

A DOUBTING HEART

WHERE are the swallows fled?

Frozen and dead,

Perchance upon some bleak and stormy

shore.

O doubting heart!

Far over purple seas,

They wait, in sunny ease,

The balmy southern breeze,

To bring them to their northern homes

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once more.

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Why must the flowers die?

Prison'd they lie

In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

O doubting heart!

They only sleep below

The soft white ermine snow,

While winter winds shall blow,

To breathe and smile upon you soon

again.

The sun has hid its rays

These many days;

Will dreary hours never leave the earth?

O doubting heart!

The stormy clouds on high

Veil the same sunny sky,

That soon (for spring is nigh)

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Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. 24

Fair hope is dead, and light

Is quench'd in night.

What sound can break the silence of despair?

O doubting heart!

Thy sky is overcast,

Yet stars shall rise at last,

Brighter for the darkness past,

And angels' silver voices stir the air.

1858.

Adelaide Anne Proctor.

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THE PILGRIMAGE

GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,

My bottle of salvation,

My gown of glory, hope's true gauge;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body's balmer;
No other balm will there be given;
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;
Over the silver mountains,

Where spring the nectar fountains:

There will I kiss

The bowl of bliss;

And drink mine everlasting fill

Upon every milken hill.

My soul will be a-dry before;

But after, it will thirst no more.

Then by that happy blissful day.
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me.
I'll take them first
To quench their thirst

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