lls thee divine--
Hail, hail to thee!

Thy white proclaims thee unstain'd,
Thy crimson thy love unfeign'd
To man, by despots enchain'd--
Hail, hail to thee!

Under thy God-given light
Our fathers went forth to fight
'Gainst sceptred wrong for the right--
Hail, hail to thee!

The Lion of England no more
'Gainst thy proud Eagle shall roar:
Peace strideth from shore to shore--
Hail, hail to thee!

Float forth, thou flag of the free--
Flash far over land and sea,
Till the world shout, Liberty--
Hail, hail to thee!

EVAN M'COLL.

A writer both of English and Gaelic songs, Evan M'Coll was born in 1808,
at Kenmore, Lochfineside, Argyllshire. His father, Dugald M'Coll,
followed an industrial occupation, but contrived to afford his son a
somewhat liberal education. The leisure hours of the youthful poet were
ardently devoted to literary culture. In 1837, he became a contributor
of Gaelic poetry to a Glasgow periodical, and his compositions began to
excite an interest in the Highlands. Two influential Highland gentlemen
secured him an appointment in the Customs at Liverpool. He subsequently
emigrated to America, and is now resident at Kingston.

Besides many fugitive pieces, Mr M'Coll has published a volume of
lyrics, entitled "The Mountain Minstrel," and a volume of Gaelic poetry.
A specimen of his Gaelic minstrelsy will be found among the translations
at the end of the present volume.

THE HILLS OF THE HEATHER.

Give the swains of Italia
'Mong myrtles to rove,
Give the proud, sullen Spaniard
His bright orange grove;
Give gold-sanded streams
To the sons of Chili,
But, oh! give the hills
Of the heather to me.

The hills where the hunter
Oft soundeth his horn,
Where sweetest the skylark
Awakens the morn;
The gray cliff, the blue lake,
The stream's dashing glee,
Endear the red hills
Of the heather to me.

There Health, rosy virgin,
For ever doth dwell;
There Love fondly whispers
To Beauty his tale;
There Freedom's own darling!
The Gael, lives free,
Then, oh! give the hills
Of the heather to me.

JAMES D. BURNS.

One of the most interesting sacred poets of the present age, James D.
Burns, was born at Edinburgh on the 18th February 1823. A pupil o