ting with love enchanting,
For mine was granting its fond desires.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover,
My fair, my rare one, come back to me--
All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying,
I would be dying, my love, for thee.

Thy brow had brightness and lily-whiteness,
Thy cheeks were clear as yon crimson sea;
Like broom-buds gleaming, thy locks were streaming,
As I lay dreaming, my love, of thee.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover,
My fair, my rare one, come back to me--
All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying,
I would be dying, my love, for thee.

Thy lips that often with love would soften,
They beamed like blooms for the honey-bee;
Thy voice came ringing like some bird singing
When thou wert bringing thy gifts to me.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover,
My fair, my rare one, come back to me--
All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying,
I would be dying, my love, for thee.

O thou'rt forgetting the hours we met in
The Vale of Tears at the even-tide,
Or thou'd come near me to love and cheer me,
And whisper clearly, "O be my bride!"

My fairy lover, my fairy lover,
My fair, my rare one, come back to me--
All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying,
I would be dying, my love, for thee.

What spell can bind thee? I search to find thee
Around the knoll that thy home would be--
Where thou did'st hover, my fairy lover,
The clods will cover and comfort me.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover,
My fair, my rare one, come back to me--
All night I'm sighing, on thee I'm crying,
I would be dying, my love, for thee.

THE FIANS OF KNOCKFARREL.

(A Ross-shire Legend.)

I.

On steep Knockfarrel had the Fians made,
For safe retreat, a high and strong stockade
Around their dwellings. And when winter fell
And o'er Strathpeffer laid its barren spell--
When days were bleak with storm, and nights were drear
And dark and lonesome, well they loved to hear
The songs of Ossian, peerless and sublime--
Their blind, grey bard, grown old before his time,
Lamenting for his son--the young, the brave
Oscar, who fell beside the western wave
In Gavra's bloody and unequal fight.

Round Ossian would they gather in the night,
Beseeching him for song ... And when he took
His clarsach, from the magic strings he shook
A maze of trembling music, falling sweet
As mossy waters in the summer heat;
And soft as fainting