Volume Vi Part 11 (2/2)
ALEXANDER M'LACHLAN.
Alexander M'Lachlan, author of the following song was born at Pinshall, in the parish of St Ninians, Stirlings.h.i.+re. He has resided, since 1825, at Muirside in the vicinity of his native place.
THE LANG WINTER E'EN.
Sweet summer 's awa, wi' her verdure sae fair; The ance bonny woodlands are leafless an' bare; To the cot wee robin returns for a screen Frae the cauld stormy blast o' the lang winter e'en.
But charms there are still, though nature has nane, When the hard rackin' toils o' the day by are gane, Then round the fireside social hearts do convene, And pleasantly pa.s.s the lang winter e'en.
O' warldly wealth I hae got little share, Yet riches and wealth breed but sorrow and care; Just gi'e me an hour wi' some auld honest frien', To crack o'er youth's joys in the lang winter e'en.
The thochts o' our youth are lichtsome and dear, Like the strains o' the lute they fa' saft on the ear, But chiefly the bliss I ha'e shared wi' my Jean In some love-screenin' shade on a lang winter e'en.
THOMAS YOUNG.
The author of ”The Four Pilgrims, or, Life's Mission; and other Poems,”
a volume of respectable poetry, published at Dundee in 1849, Thomas Young, was born at Tulliebeltane, in the parish of Auchtergaven, Perths.h.i.+re, in 1815. Receiving an ordinary school education, he accepted, in his twentieth year, a situation in the office of the _Dundee Advertiser_, where he continued till 1851, when a change occurred in the proprietors.h.i.+p. He now proceeded to New York, where he remained about eighteen months. Disappointed in obtaining a suitable appointment, he sailed for Australia; but the vessel being unable to proceed further than Rio de Janeiro, he there procured a situation, with an annual salary of 300. The climate of Rio proving unfavourable, he afterwards sailed to Australia, where he readily found occupation at Mount Alexander. He has been successful at the gold diggings.
ANTOINETTE; OR, THE FALLS.
By Niagara's flood Antoinette stood, And watch'd the wild waves rush on, As they leapt below Into vapoury snow, Or fell into flakes of foam.
The sun's last beams Fell in golden gleams On water and wave-girt isle, And in tinge all fair Dipp'd the girl's bright hair And heighten'd her happy smile.
Away--away!
In wild ecstasy She threads the abyss's brink, Where waters--black-- Of the cataract Into drifted snow-waves sink.
A father's eye Looketh anxiously On the freaks of his favour'd child, Till her spirit appals His soul, and he calls ”Antoinette” in accents wild.
A bolder heart Loves the girl's free sport, And he grasps her by the gown, Then tosseth her high In the twilight sky-- But, heavens! she falleth down!
She sinks in the wave; He swimmeth to save!
Oh, never was mortal arm More manfully braced, As it grasps her slim waist, And struggles in frantic alarm!
In vain does he strike-- The fresh waves break, And the doom'd ones are downward borne!
Yet the swimmer's eye Seemeth still to defy The might of the merciless storm.
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