ome happier swain;
Farewell! for I never may see you again.

I 've roam'd you, unknown to care's life-sapping sigh,
When prospects seem'd fair and my young hopes were high;
These prospects were false, and those hopes have proved vain;
Farewell! for I never may see you again.

Soon distance shall bid my reft heart undergo
Those pangs that alone the poor exile can know--
Away! like a craven why should I complain?
Farewell! for I never may see you again.

JAMES PARKER.

James Parker, author of a duodecimo volume of poetry, entitled "Poems of
Past Years," was born in Glasgow, and originally followed the trade of a
master baker. He now holds a respectable appointment in the navy. He has
contributed verses to the periodicals.

THE MARINER'S SONG.

Oh merrily and gallantly
We sweep across the seas,
Like the wild ocean birds which ply
Their pinions on the breeze;
We quail not at the tempest's voice
When the billow dashes o'er us,
Firm as a rock, we bear the shock,
And join its dreadful chorus.

Across the foaming surge we glide
With bosoms true and brave,
It is our home--our throne of pride--
It soon may be our grave;
Yet fearlessly we rush to meet
The foe that comes before us;
The fight begun, we man the gun,
And join its thundering chorus.

Our lives may be as fierce and free
As the waves o'er which we roam,
But let not landsmen think that we
Forget our native home;
And when the winds shall waft us back
To the shores from which they bore us,
Amid the throng of mirth and song,
We'll join the jovial chorus.

HER LIP IS O' THE ROSE'S HUE.

Her lip is o' the rose's hue,
Like links o' goud her hair,
Her e'e is o' the azure blue,
An' love beams ever there;
Her step is like the mountain goat's
That climbs the stately Ben,
Her voice sweet as the mavis' notes
That haunt her native glen.

There is a sweet wee hazel bower
Where woodbine blossoms twine,
There Jeanie, ae auspicious hour,
Consented to be mine;
An' there we meet whene'er we hae
An idle hour to spen',
An' Jeanie ne'er has rued the day
She met me in the glen.

Oh bricht, bricht are the evenin' beams,
An' sweet the pearly dew,
An' lovely is the star that gleams
In glo