brave,
It makes my heart feel glad,
And 'minds me of my boyish days
When dress'd in Tartan Plaid.

"O wad some power" the hint we give
Our Sovereign Lady Queen,
To dress herself and lady maids
In bonnie tartan sheen.
Then treadles, shuttles, warp, and weft--
(For trade would not be bad)--
Would rattle as in days of yore,
When weaving Tartan Plaid.

The Pauper's Box.

Thou odious box, as I look on thee,
I wonder wilt thou be unlocked for me?
No, no! forbear!--yet then, yet then,
'Neath thy grim lid do lie the men--
Men whom fortune's blasted arrows hit,
And send them to the pauper's pit.

O dig a grave somewhere for me,
Deep underneath some wither'd tree;
Or bury me on the wildest heath,
Where Boreas blows his wildest breath,
Or 'mid some wild romantic rocks:
But, oh! forbear the pauper's box.

Throw me into the ocean deep,
Where many poor forgotten sleep;
Or fling my corpse in the battle mound,
With coffinless thousands 'neath the ground;
I envy not the mightiest dome,
But save me from a pauper's tomb.

I care not if t'were the wild wolf's glen,
Or the prison yard, with wicked men:
Or into some filthy dung-hole hurled--
Anywhere, anywhere! out of the world!
In fire or smoke on land or sea,
Than thy grim lid be closed on me.

But let me pause, ere I say more
About thee, unoffending door;
When I bethink me, now I pause,
It is not thee who makes the laws,
But villians who, if all were just,
In thy grim cell would lay their dust.

But yet, t'were grand beneath yond wall,
To lie with friends,--relations all;
If sculptured tombstones were not there,
But simple grass with daisies fair;
And were it not, grim box, for thee
'Twere paradise, O cemetery.

The Vale of Aire.

[It was early in the morning that I took my ramble. I had noticed but
little until I arrived at the foot of the quaint old hamlet of Marley.
My spirits began to be cheered, for lively gratitude glowed in my heart
at the wild romantic scenery before me. Passing the old mansion, I
wended my way towards the huge crag called the "Altar Rock." Wild and
rugged as the scenery was, it furnished an agreeable entertainment to my
mind, and with pleasure I pushed my way to the top of the gigantic rock,
where I viewed the grandeur of the vale below. The blossom on the
branches, the crooked Aire gliding along like sheets of polished crystal,
made me poetic. I thought of Nicholson, the poet of this beautiful va