LVIII.

MY HEART'S MY AIN.

'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 tho' I say't mysel,

That should nae say't, 'tis true,

The lad that gets me for a wife

I

He'll ne'er ha'e occasion to rue.

gang aye fu' clean and fu' tosh,

As a' the neighbours can tell,

Tho' 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 buckl'd thegither,
And may they live happy for life;
Tho' 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 siller,
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 mak me his partner for life,
If the chiel has the sense to be happy,
He'll fa' on his feet for a wife.

XLIX.

DIRGE OF ISHMAEL,

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 wind 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 savage. ness 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 gold embroidered flag 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 shade of deepening purple. The air was remarkably still, and their song, in which the

G

He died!-Upon the desart gale
Shoot up his eagle shafts to sail ;
He died!-Upon the desart plain
Fling loose his camel's golden rein;
He died!-No other voice shall guide
O'er stream or sand its step of pride.

Whose is the hand that now shall rear,
Terror of man, the Sheik's red spear?
Lives there the warrior on whose brow
His turban's vulture plumes shall glow?
He's gone, and with our father fell
The sun of glory—Ishmael!

L.

PARTING TOKENS.

This pledge of affection, dear Ellen, receive,
From a youth who's devoted to thee;
And when on the relic you look, love, believe,

Thy Edward still constant will be;

whole train joined at intervals, sounded most sweet. Their voices were deep and regular; and as the long procession' moved slowly away into the desart 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,
And oft the dear token will prove

A charm, to dispel every gloom, and impart
A joyful remembrance of love.

Nay, weep not, sweet maid, though thy sailor, awhile,
Must roam o'er the boisterous main,

Fond hope kindly whispers that fortune will smile,
And we shall meet happy again :

One embrace ere we part-see, the vessel's unmoor'd,
The signal floats high in our view;

The last boat yet lingers to waft me on board,
Adieu, dearest Ellen, adieu.

LI.

I SAW THEE WEEP.

I saw thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;

And then methought it did appear,
A violet dropping dew.