He died-Upon the desert gale Whose is the hand that now shall rear, L. PARTING TOKENS. This pledge of affection, dear Ellen, receive, And when on the relic you look, love, believe, whole train joined at intervals, sounded most sweet. Their voices were deep and regular; and as the long procession moved slowly away into the desert with their diminishing forms and fading chorus, they gave us the idea of a train solemnly passing into the shades of eternity. The present translation of their song or hymn was collected from one of our boatmen, who had paid particular attention to it." The gift thou hast woven, I'll wear near my heart, A charm, to dispel every gloom, and impart A joyful remembrance of love. Nay, weep not, sweet maid, though thy sailor, awhile, Fond hope kindly whispers that fortune will smile, One embrace ere we part-see, the vessel's unmoor'd, The last boat yet lingers to waft me on board, LI. I SAW THEE WEEP. I saw thee weep-the big bright tear I saw the smile-the sapphire's blaze I could not watch the living rays As clouds from yonder sun receive Which scarce the shade of coming eve Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their sunshine leaves a glow behind LII. NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE IN GREEN. AIR." The hopeless lover." Now Spring has clad the grove in green, The furrowed, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers; While ilka thing in nature join, O why thus, all alone, are mine The trout within yon wimpling burn, And safe beneath the shady thorn My life was ance that careless stream, But love, wi' unrelenting beam, Has scorched my fountains dry. The little floweret's peaceful lot, Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot, Nae ruder visit knows, Was mine, till love has o'er me passed, And blighted a' my bloom; And now, beneath the withering blast, My youth and joy consume. The wakened laverock warbling springs, In morning's rosy eye; As little recked I sorrow's power, Until the flowery snare O' witching love, in luckless hour, O, had my fate been Greenland snows, Wi' man and nature leagued my foes, So Peggy ne'er I'd known! The wretch whase doom is, "Hope nae mair !” LIII. NAE MAIR WE'LL MEET, &c. AIR. "We'll meet beside the dusky glen." Nae mair we'll meet again, my love, by yon burn side, Will we hail at close o' day, For we ne'er again will stray, down by yon burn side. Yet mem'ry oft will fondly brood, on yon burn side, Though thy foot can never mair Bend to earth the gowan fair, down by yon burn side. |