Volume Iv Part 33 (1/2)

MARY STEEL.

I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, When the lark begins to sing, And a thousan', thousan' joyfu' hearts Are welcoming the spring: When the merle and the blackbird build their nest In the bushy forest tree, And a' things under the sky seem blest, My thoughts shall be o' thee.

I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, When the simmer spreads her flowers, And the lily blooms and the ivy twines In beauty round the bowers; When the cushat coos in the leafy wood, And the lambs sport o'er the lea, And every heart 's in its happiest mood, My thoughts shall be o' thee.

I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, When har'st blithe days begin, And shearers ply, in the yellow ripe field, The foremost rig to win; When the shepherd brings his ewes to the fauld, Where light-hair'd la.s.ses be, And mony a tale o' love is tauld, My thoughts shall be o' thee.

I 'll think o' thee, my Mary Steel, When the winter winds rave high, And the tempest wild is pourin' doun Frae the dark and troubled sky: When a hopeless wail is heard on land, And shrieks frae the roaring sea, And the wreck o' nature seems at hand, My thoughts shall be o' thee!

OH, HAST THOU FORGOTTEN?

Oh, hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade, And this warm, true heart o' mine, Mary?

Oh, hast thou forgotten the promise thou made, When so fondly 't was pressed to thine, Mary?

Oh, hast thou forgotten, what I ne'er can forget, The hours we have spent together?

Those hours which, like stars in my memory, yet s.h.i.+ne on as brightly as ever!

Oh, hast thou forgotten that moment of bliss, So fraught with the heart's full feeling?

As we clung to each other in the last embrace, The soul of love revealing!

Oh, hast thou forgotten that sacred spot, Where the farewell word was spoken?

Is the sigh, and the tear, and all forgot, The vow and the promise broken?

Then for ever farewell, thou false fair one; Though other arms caress thee, Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain, And a smoother tongue should bless thee:--

Yet never again on thy warm young cheek Will breathe a soul more warm than mine, And never again will a lover speak Of love more pure to thine.

THE MAID OF MY HEART.

AIR--_”The Last Rose of Summer.”_

When the maid of my heart, with the dark rolling eye, The only beloved of my bosom is nigh, I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.

When around and above us there 's nought to be seen, But the moon on the sky and the flower on the green, And all is at rest in the glen and the hill, Save the soul-stirring song of the breeze and the rill.

Then the maid of my heart to my bosom is press'd, Then all I hold dear in this world is possess'd; Then I ask not of Heaven one bliss to impart, Save that which I feel with the maid of my heart.

SONG OF THE EMIGRANT.