Volume Vi Part 25 (1/2)

We were baith neebor bairns, thegither we play'd, We loved our first love, an' our hearts never stray'd; When I got my young la.s.sie her first vow to gie, We promised to wait for each ither a wee.

My mother was widow'd when we should hae wed, An' the nicht when we stood roun' my father's death-bed, He charged me a husband and father to be, While my young orphan sisters clung weepin' to me.

I kent nae, my Mary, what high heart was thine, Nor how brightly thy love in a dark hour wad s.h.i.+ne, Till in doubt and in sorrow, ye whisper'd to me, ”Win the blessing o' Heaven for thy Mary and thee.”

An' years hae flown by deeply laden wi' care, But Mary has help'd me their burden to bear, She gave me my s.h.i.+eld in misfortune and wrong, 'Twas she that aye bade me be steadfast and strong.

Her meek an' quiet spirit is aye smooth as now, Her saft s.h.i.+nin' hair meekly shades her white brow, A few silver threads 'mang its dark faulds I see, They tell me how lang she has waited on me.

Her cheek has grown paler, for she too maun toil, Her sma' hands are thinner, less mirthfu' her smile; She aft speaks o' heaven, and if she should dee, She tells me that there she 'll be waitin' on me.

A SONG OF SUMMER.

I will sing a song of summer, Of bright summer as it dwells, Amid leaves and flowers and suns.h.i.+ne, In lone haunts and gra.s.sy dells.

Lo! the hill encircled valley Is like an emerald cup, To its inmost depths all glowing, With sunlight br.i.m.m.i.n.g up.

Here I 'd dream away the day time, And let happy thoughts have birth, And forget there 's aught but glory, Aught but beauty on the earth.

Not a speck of cloud is floating In the deep blue overhead, 'Neath the trees the daisied verdure Like a broider'd couch is spread.

The rustling leaves are dancing With the light wind's music stirr'd, And in gushes through the stillness Comes the song of woodland bird.

Here I 'd dream away the day-time, And let gentlest thoughts have birth, And forget there 's aught but gladness, Aught but peace upon the earth.

ROBERT DUTHIE.

The writer of some spirited lyrics, Robert Duthie was born in Stonehaven on the 2d of February 1826. Having obtained an ordinary elementary education, he was apprenticed, in his fourteenth year, to his father, who followed the baking business. He afterwards taught a private school in his native town; but, on the death of his father, in 1848, he resumed his original profession, with the view of supporting his mother and the younger members of the family. Devoting his leisure hours to literature and poetry, he is a frequent contributor to the provincial journals; and some of his lyrical productions promise to secure him a more extended reputation.

SONG OF THE OLD ROVER.

I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the wild sea waves, And the tempest around me is swelling; The winds have come forth from their ice-ribb'd caves, And the waves from their rocky dwelling; But my trim-built bark O'er the waters dark Bounds lightly along, And the mermaid lists to my echoing song.

Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to lave In the briny spray of the wild sea wave!

I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat on the foaming deep, And the storm-bird above me is screaming; While forth from the cloud where the thunders sleep The lightning is fearfully gleaming; But onward I dash, For the fitful flash Illumes me along, And the thunders chorus my echoing song.

Hurrah! hurrah! how I love to brave The dangers that frown on the wild sea wave!

I 'm afloat, I 'm afloat where my well-served shot Lays the war-dogs bleeding around me; But ne'er do I yield on the tentless field Till the wreath of the victor hath crown'd me; Then I, a true child Of the ocean wild, With a tuneful tongue Bear away with my prize and my conquering song.

Hurrah! hurrah! shot and storm, let them rave-- I 'm at home, das.h.i.+ng on through the wild sea wave!