Take, Fortune, whatever you choose; James Russell Lowell. THE MERRY LARK THE merry, merry lark was up and singing, Now the hare is snared and dead beside the snow yard, And the lark beside the dreary winter sea, And my baby in his cradle in the churchyard Waiteth there until the bells bring me. Charles Kingsley. A SPRING LILT THROUGH the silver mist Of the blossom-spray Trill the orioles: list To their joyous lay! "What in all the world, in all the world," they say, "Is half so sweet, so sweet, is half so sweet as May?" "June! June! June!" Low croon JOCK OF HAZELDEAN The brown bees in the clover. "Sweet! sweet! sweet!" Repeat The robins, nested over. JOCK OF HAZELDEAN I "WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie? And ye sall be his bride, ladie, But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. II "Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; Young Frank is chief of Errington, And lord of Langley-dale; His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. III "A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair; 105 Unknown. Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair; And you, the foremost o' them a', Shall ride our forest queen But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. IV The kirk was decked at morning-tide, The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, She's o'er the border, and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean. Sir Walter Scott. CANADIAN BOAT-SONG FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time. Why should we yet our sails unfurl? — ROSE AYLMER-ROSABELLE Utawa's tide! this trembling moon 107 Thomas Moore. ROSE AYLMER AH! what avails the sceptred race, Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful A night of memories and sighs I consecrate to thee. eyes Walter Savage Landor. ROSABELLE Он, listen, listen, ladies gay! 66 Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew, "The blackening wave is edged with white; "Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round lady gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?" ""Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir ""Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, O'er Roslin all that weary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; "T was broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moonbeam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen : "T was seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from caverned Hawthornden. Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie, |