, by his ain fireside?
With a bosom-cheering hope, he takes heaven for his prop,
Then calmly down does drop, by his ain fireside.
Oh! may that lot be ours, by our ain fireside;
Then glad will fly the hours, by our ain fireside;
May virtue guard our path, till we draw our latest breath,
Then we 'll smile and welcome death, by our ain fireside.

AH, NO! I CANNOT SAY "FAREWELL."

Ah, no! I cannot say "Farewell,"
'T would pierce my bosom through;
And to this heart 't were death's dread knell,
To hear thee sigh "Adieu."
Though soul and body both must part,
Yet ne'er from thee I 'll sever,
For more to me than soul thou art,
And oh! I 'll quit thee never.

Whate'er through life may be thy fate,
That fate with thee I 'll share,
If prosperous, be moderate;
If adverse, meekly bear;
This bosom shall thy pillow be,
In every change whatever,
And tear for tear I 'll shed with thee,
But oh! forsake thee, never.

One home, one hearth, shall ours be still,
And one our daily fare;
One altar, too, where we may kneel,
And breathe our humble prayer;
And one our praise, that shall ascend,
To one all-bounteous Giver;
And one our will, our aim, our end,
For oh! we 'll sunder never.

And when that solemn hour shall come,
That sees thee breathe thy last,
That hour shall also fix my doom,
And seal my eyelids fast.
One grave shall hold us, side by side,
One shroud our clay shall cover;
And one then may we mount and glide,
Through realms of love, for ever.

JOHN WILSON.

John Wilson, one of the most heart-stirring of Scottish prose writers,
and a narrative and dramatic poet, is also entitled to rank among the
minstrels of his country. The son of a prosperous manufacturer, he was
born in Paisley, on the 18th of May 1785. The house of his birth, an old
building, bore the name of _Prior's Croft_; it was taken down in 1787,
when the family removed to a residence at the Town-head of Paisley,
which, like the former, stood on ground belonging to the poet's father.
His elementary education was conducted at the schools of his native
town, and afterwards at the manse of Mearns, a rural parish in
Renfrewshire, under the superintendence of Dr Maclatchie, the parochial
clergyman. To his juvenile sports and exercises in the moor of Mearns,
and