bling, shall greet thy return.

GEORGE WILSON.

George Wilson was born on the 20th June 1784, in the parish of
Libberton, and county of Lanark. Deprived of both his parents early in
life, he was brought to the house of his paternal uncle, who rented a
sheep-farm in the vicinity of Peebles. At the burgh school of that place
he received an ordinary education, and in his thirteenth year hired
himself as a cow-herd. Passing through the various stages of rural
employment at Tweedside, he resolved to adopt a trade, and in his
eighteenth year became apprenticed to his maternal uncle, a cabinetmaker
in Edinburgh. On fulfilling his indenture, he accepted employment as a
journeyman cabinetmaker; he subsequently conducted business on his own
account. In 1831 he removed from Edinburgh to the village of
Corstorphine, in the vicinity; where he continues to reside. He
published "The Laverock," a volume of poems and songs, in 1829. The
following lyrics from his pen evince no inconsiderable vigour, and seem
worthy of preservation.

MILD AS THE MORNING.

AIR--_'Bonnie Dundee.'_

Mild as the morning, a rose-bud of beauty,
Young Mary, all lovely, had come from afar,
With tear-streaming eyes, and a grief-burden'd bosom,
To view with sad horror the carnage of war.
She sought her brave brother with sighing and sorrow;
Her loud lamentations she pour'd out in vain;
The hero had fallen, with kinsmen surrounded,
And deep he lay buried 'mong heaps of the slain.

"Oh! Donald, my brother, in death art thou sleeping?
Or groan'st thou in chains of some barbarous foe?
Are none of thy kindred in life now remaining,
To tell a sad tale of destruction and woe?"
A hero who struggled in death's cold embraces,
Whose bosom, deep gash'd, was all clotted with gore--
"Alas! Lady Mary, the mighty M'Donald,
Will lead his brave heroes to battle no more."

She turn'd, and she gazed all around, much confounded;
The tidings of sorrow sunk deep in her heart;
She saw her brave kinsman laid low, deadly wounded,
He wanted that succour, she could not impart--
"Oh! Murdoch, my kinsman," with hands raised to heaven,
"Thy strength, bloom, and beauty, alas! all are o'er;
And oh, my brave brother, my brave gallant brother,
Lies sleeping beside thee, to waken no more."

THE BEACONS BLAZED.

AIR--_'Cope sent a letter frae Dun