Volume Iv Part 24 (2/2)

But lo! in the offing, To punish their scoffing, Brave Napier appears, and their triumph is done; No danger can stay him, No foeman dismay him, He conquers or dies by his colours and gun.

Now low in the dust is the Crescent flag humbled, Its warriors are vanquish'd, their freedom is gone; The strong walls have tumbled, the proud towers are crumbled, And England's flag waves over ruin'd St John.

But Napier now tenders To Acre's defenders The aid of a friend when the combat is won; For mercy's sweet blossom Blooms fresh in his bosom, Who conquers or dies by his colours and gun.

”All hail to the hero!” his country is calling, And ”hail to his comrades!” the faithful and brave, They fear'd not for falling, they knew no appalling, But fought like their fathers, the lords of the wave.

And long may the ocean, In calm and commotion, Rejoicing convey them where fame may be won, And when foes would wound us May Napier be round us, To conquer or die by their colours and gun!

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Admiral Sir Charles Napier.

OH! BONNIE ARE THE HOWES.

Oh! bonnie are the howes And sunny are the knowes That feed the kye and yowes Where my life's morn dawn'd; And brightly glance the rills That spring amang the hills And ca' the merry mills In my ain dear land.

But now I canna see The lammies on the lea, Nor hear the heather bee On this far, far strand.

I see nae father's ha', Nae burnie's waterfa', But wander far awa'

Frae my ain dear land.

My heart was free and light, My ingle burning bright, When ruin cam' by night Through a foe's fell hand.

I left my native air, I gaed to come nae mair; And now I sorrow sair For my ain dear land.

But blithely will I bide Whate'er may yet betide When ane is by my side On this far, far strand.

My Jean will soon be here This waefu' heart to cheer, And dry the fa'ing tear For my ain dear land.

OH! SAY NA YOU MAUN GANG AWA'.

Oh! say na you maun gang awa', Oh! say na you maun leave me; The dreaded hour that parts us twa Of peace and hope will reave me.

When you to distant sh.o.r.es are gane How could I bear to tarry, Where ilka tree and ilka stane Would mind me o' my Mary?

I couldna wander near yon woods That saw us oft caressing, And on our heads let fa' their buds In earnest o' their blessing.

Ilk stane wad mind me how we press'd Its half-o'erspreading heather, And how we lo'ed the least the best That made us creep thegither.

I couldna bide, when you are gane, My ain, my winsome dearie, I couldna stay to pine my lane-- I live but when I 'm near ye.

Then say na you maun gang awa', Oh! say na you maun leave me; For ah! the hour that parts us twa Of life itself will reave me.

JOHN BETHUNE.

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