HEALTH to the Maxwell’s vetera… Health, aye unsour’d by care or gr… Inspir’d, I turn’d Fate’s sibyl l… This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o’ prief,

LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s… His chicken heart so tender; But build a castle on his head, His scull will prop it under.

A Tale “Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full… Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neibors neibors meet;

WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond… An’ bar the doors wi’ driving snaw… An’ hing us owre the ingle, I set me down to pass the time, An’ spin a verse or twa o’ rhyme,

FLOW gently, sweet Afton! amang… Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a son… My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring… Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb… Thou stockdove whose echo resounds…

Musing on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying heav’n in warm devotion, For his weal where’er he be. Hope and Fear’s alternate billow

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie’s b… O Death, it’s my opinion, Thou ne’er took such a bleth’rin b… Into thy dark dominion!

O SAW ye bonnie Lesley As she gaed o’er the Border? She 's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her,

When by a generous Public’s kind… That dearest meed is granted—hones… When here your favour is the actor… Nor even the man in private life f… What breast so dead to heav’nly V…

FRAE the friends and land I love… Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite; Frae my best belov’d I rove, Never mair to taste delight: Never mair maun hope to find

O I’ve walked o’er yon countries… Among Airlin’s braw lasses I’ve h… Comin’ hame in the mornins, fin I… Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin’s f… O the first thing I did, fin I ga…

Chorus—Long, long the night, Heavy comes the morrow While my soul’s delight Is on her bed of sorrow. CAN I cease to care?

Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dea… Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dea… Thou art sweet as the smile when f… And soft as their parting tear– J… Although thou maun never be mine,

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous bea… O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase th…

Here Holy Willie’s sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta’en some other way, I fear, the left—hand road. Stop! there he is, as sur’s a gun,