Volume Iii Part 26 (2/2)

Though distant many miles from thee, My heart still hovers o'er ye, O!

My fancy haunts your mountains steep, Your forests fair, an' valleys deep, Your plains, where rapid rivers sweep To gladden Caledonia.

Still mem'ry turns to where I spent Life's cheerfu' morn sae bonnie, O!

Though by misfortune from it rent, It 's dearer still than ony, O!

In vain I 'm told our vessel hies To fertile fields an' kindly skies; But still they want the charm that ties My heart to Caledonia.

My breast had early learn'd to glow At name of Caledonia; Though torn an' toss'd wi' many a foe, She never bow'd to ony, O!

A land of heroes, famed an' brave-- A land our fathers bled to save, Whom foreign foes could ne'er enslave-- Adieu to Caledonia!

ON VISITING THE SCENES OF EARLY DAYS.

Ye daisied glens and briery braes, Haunts of my happy early days, Where oft I 've pu'd the blossom'd slaes And flow'rets fair, Before my heart was scathed wi' waes Or worldly care.

Now recollection's airy train Shoots through my heart with pleasing pain, And streamlet, mountain, rock, or plain, Like friends appear, That, lang, lang lost, now found again, Are doubly dear.

But many a dauted object 's fled; Low lies my once paternal shed; Rank hemlocks wild, and weeds, o'erspread The ruin'd heap; Unstirr'd by cheerful tongue or tread, The echoes sleep.

Yon bonnie burn, whose limpid streams, When warm'd with summer's glowing beams, Have often laved my tender limbs, When my employ Was chasing childhood's airy whims From joy to joy.

Upon yon green, at gloamin' gray, I 've often join'd in cheerful play, Wi' comrades guileless, blithe, and gay, Whose magic art, Remember'd at this distant day, Still warms the heart.

Ah, cronies dear! for ever lost!

Abroad on life's rough ocean toss'd, By adverse winds and currents cross'd, By watching worn, Some landed on that silent coast, Ne'er to return!

Howe'er the path of life may lie, If poorly low, or proudly high, When scenes of childhood meet our eye, Their charms we own, And yield the tribute of a sigh To days long gone.

TO WANDER LANG IN FOREIGN LANDS.

AIR--_”Auld Langsyne.”_

To wander lang in foreign lands, It was my destinie; I joyful was at my return, My native hills to see.

My step grew light, my heart grew fain, I thought my cares to tine, Until I fand ilk weel-kenn'd spot Sae alter'd sin' langsyne.

I sigh'd to see the flow'ry green Skaith'd by the ruthless pleugh; Likewise the bank aboon the burn, Where broom and hawthorns grew.

A lonely tree, whose aged trunk The ivy did entwine, Still mark'd the spot where youngsters met, In cheerful sports langsyne.

I mixed with the village train, Yet still I seem'd alane; Nae kindly hand did welcome me, For a' my friends were gane.

Those friends who oft in foreign lands Did haunt this heart o' mine, And brought to mind the happy days I spent wi' them langsyne.

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