w as the surf of the sea;
Thy footstep is like to the fairy's in lightness,
Of Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!

Fair muse of the minstrel! beloved of my bosom!
As the song of thy praise and my passion I breathed,
Thy fair fingers oft, with the triad leaf'd blossom,
Sweet Erin's green emblem, my wild harp have wreathed;
While with soft melting murmurs the bright river ran on,
That by thy bower follows the sun to the sea;
And oh! soon dawn the day I review the sweet Shannon
And Kathleen mavourneen, cuishlih ma chree!

HIELAN' HEATHER.

AIR--_"O'er the Muir amang the Heather."_

Hey for the Hielan' heather!
Hey for the Hielan' heather!
Dear to me, an' aye shall be,
The bonnie braes o' Hielan' heather!

The moss-muir black an' mountain blue,
Whare mists at morn an' gloamin' gather;
The craigs an' cairns o' hoary hue,
Whare blooms the bonnie Hielan' heather!
Hey for the Hielan' heather!

Whare monie a wild bird wags its wing,
Baith sweet o' sang an' fair o' feather;
While cavern'd cliffs wi' echo ring,
Amang the hills o' Hielan' heather!
Hey for the Hielan' heather!

Whare, light o' heart an' light o' heel,
Young lads and lasses trip thegither;
The native Norlan rant and reel
Amang the halesome Hielan' heather!
Hey for the Hielan' heather!

The broom an' whin, by loch an' lin,
Are tipp'd wi' gowd in simmer weather;
How sweet an' fair! but meikle mair
The purple bells o' Hielan' heather!
Hey for the Hielan' heather!

Whare'er I rest, whare'er I range,
My fancy fondly travels thither;
Nae countrie charms, nae customs change
My feelings frae the Hielan' heather!
Hey, for the Hielan' heather!

FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND.

AIR--_"Kinloch."_

Loved land of my kindred, farewell--and for ever!
Oh! what can relief to the bosom impart;
When fated with each fond endearment to sever,
And hope its sweet sunshine withholds from the heart!
Farewell, thou fair land! which, till life's pulse shall perish,
Though doom'd to forego, I shall never forget,
Wherever I wander, for thee will I cherish
The dearest regard and the deepest regret.

Farewell, ye great Grampians, cloud-robed and crested!
Like your mists in the sunbeam ye melt in my sig