A' gaudily shawin' their beauteous dyes,
And breathin' in calm the air's fragrant balm,
Like angels asleep on the plains o' the skies;
Yet the garden, and palace, and day's rosy dawning,
Though in bless'd morning dreams they should aft come again,
Can ne'er be sae sweet as the bonnie young lassie,
That bloom'd by the Endrick, the pride of the glen.

The exile, in sleep, haunts the land o' his fathers,
The captive's ae dream is his hour to be free;
The weary heart langs for the morning rays comin',
The oppress'd, for his sabbath o' sweet liberty.
But my life's only hope, my heart's only prayer,
Is the day that I 'll ca' the young lassie my ain;
Though a' should forsake me, wi' her I 'll be happy,
On the banks o' the Endrick, the pride o' the glen.

MARY.

The winter's cauld and cheerless blast
May rob the feckless tree, Mary,
And lay the young flowers in the dust,
Whar' ance they bloom'd in glee, Mary.
It canna chill my bosom's hopes--
It canna alter thee, Mary;
The summer o' thy winsome face
Is aye the same to me, Mary.

The gloom o' life, its cruel strife,
May wear me fast awa', Mary;
An' lea'e me like a cauld, cauld corpse,
Amang the drifting snaw, Mary.
Yet 'mid the drift, wert thou but nigh,
I 'd fauld my weary e'e, Mary;
And deem the wild and raging storm,
A laverock's sang o' glee, Mary.

My heart can lie in ruin's dust,
And fortune's winter dree, Mary;
While o'er it shines the diamond ray,
That glances frae thine e'e, Mary.
The rending pangs and waes o' life,
The dreary din o' care, Mary,
I 'll welcome, gin they lea'e but thee,
My lanely lot to share, Mary.

As o'er yon hill the evening star
Is wilin' day awa', Mary;
Sae sweet and fair art thou to me,
At life's sad gloamin' fa', Mary.
It gars me greet wi' vera joy,
Whene'er I think on thee, Mary,
That sic a heart sae true as thine,
Should e'er ha'e cared for me, Mary.

JAMES BALLANTINE.

James Ballantine, one of the most successful of living Scottish song
writers, was born in 1808 at the West Port of Edinburgh. Of this
locality, now considerably changed in its character, but still endeared
to him by the associations of his boyhood, he has given a graphic
description in a poem, in which he records