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I'll count my health my greatest wealth,

Sae lang as I'll enjoy it;
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,

As lang’s I get employment.

But far aff fowls hae feathers fair,

And aye until ye try them ;
Though they seem fair still have a care,

They may prove poor as I am.
Yet still, this night, by clear moonlight,

My dear, I'll come and see thee,
For the lad that lo'es his lassie weel

Nae travel makes him weary.



I've no sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake,
Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake ;
Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree,
Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Softly tapping, at eve, to her window I

And loud bay'd the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame,
For shame, silly Light-foot, what is it to thee,
Though the maid of Lla ellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,
Threadbare is my coat and my hosen are torn;
Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee,
When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

The farmer rides proudly to market and fair,
And the clerk, at the ale-house, still claims the great chair,
But of all our proud fellows the proudest I'll be,
While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

For blythe as the urchin at holiday play,
And meek as a matron in mantle of gray,
And trim as the lady of noblest degree,
Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me.



'Tis no very lang sinsyne,

That I had a lad o' my ain;
But now he's awa' to anither,

And left me a' my lane.
The lass he is courting has siller,

And I hae nane at a',
And 'tis nought but the love o' the tocher

That's tane my lad awa'.

But I'm blythe that my heart's my ain,

And I'll keep it a' my life, Until that I meet wi' a lad

Wha has sense to wale a good wife. For though I say't mysel,

That should nae say't, 'tis true, The lad that gets me for a wife

He'll ne'er hae occasion to rue.

I gang aye fu' clean and fu’ tosh,

As a' the neighbours can tell, Though I've seldom a gown on my back,

But sic as I spin mysel’;

And when I'm clad in my curtsey,

I think mysel' as braw
As Susie, wi' a' her pearling,

That's tane my lad awa'.

But I wish they were buckled thegither,

And may they live happy for life ; Though Willie now slights me, and's left me,

The chiel he deserves a gude wife.
But, O! I am blythe that I miss'd him,

As blythe as I weel can be ;
For ane that's sae keen o' the ler,

Would never agree wi' me.

But the truth is, I am aye hearty,

I hate to be scrimpit or scant;
The wee thing I hae I'll mak use o't,

And there's nane about me shall want :
For I'm a gude guide o' the warld,

I ken when to haud and to gi'e ; But whinging and cringing for siller

Would never agree wi' me.

Contentment is better than riches,

And he wha has that, has enough; The master is seldom sae happy

As Robin that drives the plough.
But if a young lad wad cast up,

To make me his partner for life,
If the chiel has the sense to be happy,

He'll fa' on his feet for a wife.



A Bedouin Chief.*

Our father's brow was cold, his eye

Gaz'd on his warriors heavily ;
Pangs thick and deep his bosom wrung,

Silence was on the noble tongue ;
Then writh'd the lip the final throe
That free'd the struggling soul below.

* The manuscript journal of a late traveller in Egypt furnished this short but expressive dirge, accompanied with the following very interesting remarks.

The current was against us; and, as we approached the city Cairo, the win was lulled almost into a complete calm. Whilst we were busy at the oar, we were suddenly surprized with the noise of some unusual sounds from the river's side, on hearing of which our watermen immediately threw themselves on their faces and began a prayer. A few moments after, a procession was discovered advancing from a grove of date trees, which grew only at a short distance from the bank. It was a band of Bedouins, who, in one of their few adventures into the half civilized world of Lower Egypt, for the purpose of trade, had lost their chief by sickness. The whole of the train were mounted, and the body was borne along, in the middle of the foremost troop, in a kind of palanquin, rude, but ornamented with that strange mixture of savageness and magnificence which we find not unfrequent among the nobler barbarians of the east and south. The body was covered with a lion's skin, a green and golden embroidered Aag waved over it, and some remarkably rich ostrich feathers on the lances formed the capitals and pillars of this Arab hearse.

“Though the procession moved close to the shore, none of the tribe appeared to observe our boat, their faces being stedfastly directed to the setting sun, which was then touching the horizon, in full grandeur, with an immense canopy of gorgeous clouds closing around him in a beautiful state of deepening purple. Tho air was remarkably still, and their song, in which the


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