LV.

A COGIE O' ALE AND A PICKLE AIT MEAL,

▲ cogie o' ale and a pickle ait meal,

And a dainty wee drappy o' whisky,

Was our forefathers' dose to sweel down their brose,
And mak' them blythe, cheery, and frisky.

Then hey for the cogie, and hey for the ale,
And hey for the whisky, and hey for the meal;
When mix'd a' thegither they do unco weel
To mak' a chiel cheery and brisk aye.

As I view our Scots lads, in their kilts and cockades,
A' blooming and fresh as a rose, man;

I think, wi' mysel', o' the meal and the ale,

And the fruits of our Scottish kail brose, man.

Then hey for the cogie, &c.

When our brave Highland blades, wi' their claymores and plaids,

In the field drive, like sheep, a' our foes, man;

Their courage and power spring frae this, to be sure,
They're the noble effects of the brose, man.

Then hey for the cogie, &c.

But your spindle-shank'd sparks, wha but ill set their sarks,
And your pale visag'd milk-sops, and beaux, man,

I think, when I see them, 'twere kindness to gi’e them
A cogie of ale and of brose, man.
Then hey for the cogie, &c.

LVI.

VALE OF THE CROSS,

Vale of the Cross, the shepherds tell,
'Tis sweet within thy woods to dwell;
For there are sainted shadows seen,
That frequent haunt thy dewy green :
In wandering winds the dirge is sung,
The convent bell by spirits rung,
And matin hymns and vesper prayer,
Break softly on the tranquil air.

Vale of the Cross, the shepherds tell,
'Tis sweet within thy woods to dwell;
For peace hath there her spotless throne,

And pleasures to the world unknown;

* The beautiful little vale which is here referred to, is situated near th town of Llangollen ;-the ruins of a church that was built in the form a cross, and the remains of an abbey, shaded by hanging woods, coll tribute greatly to its romantic appearance.

The murmur of the distant rills,
The Sabbath silence of the hills,
And all the quiet God hath given,
Without the golden gates of heaven.

LVII.

MAID OF ALDERNEY.

O stop na', bonny bird, that strain,
Frae hopeless love itself it flows;
Sweet bird, O warble it again,

Thou'st touch'd the string o' a' my woes;

O! lull me with it to repose,

I'll dream of her who's far away,

And fancy, as my eyelids close,

Will meet the maid of Alderney.

Couldst thou but learn frae me my grief,

Sweet bird, thou'dst leave thy native grove,

And fly, to bring my soul relief,

To where my warmest wishes rove;

Soft as the cooings of the dove,

Thou❜lt sing thy sweetest, saddest lay,

And melt to pity and to love,

The bonny maid of Alderney.

Well may I sigh and sairly weep;

Thy song

sad recollections bring;
O! fly across the roaring deep,
And to my maiden sweetly sing;
'Twill to her faithless bosom fling
Remembrance of a sacred day;

But feeble is thy wee bit wing,
And far's the isle of Alderney.

Then, bonny bird, wi' mony a tear,
I'll mourn beneath this hoary thorn,
And thou wilt find me sitting here,

Ere thou canst hail the dawn o' morn. Then, high on airy pinions borne,

Thou'lt chaunt a sang o' love and wae, And soothe me weeping at the scorn O' the sweet maid of Alderney.

And when around my wearied head,
Soft pillow'd where my fathers lie,
Death shall eternal poppies spread,

And close for aye my tearfu' eye, Perch'd on some bonny branch on high, Thou'lt sing thy sweetest roundelay,

And soothe my spirit passing by,

To meet the maid of Alderney.

LVIII.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST,

NEW SET.

AIR-The flowers of the forest

On the dark forest side an old minstrel sat playing,
White wav'd his thin locks and sad was his lay;
He sang the bright laurels of Scotia decaying,
And flowers of the forest all weded away.

I weep for the wrongs on my country inflicted,
I weep for your fate who lie cold in the clay
Your struggle, though hapeless, true valour depicted,
Your mem❜ry, brave heroes, lives ne'er to decay.

For thee, my lov'd chieftain, in honour grown hoary,
Thy evening was bright as unclouded thy day;
For ever thou❜lt shine in the annals of glory,
Thy laurels unsullied shall ne'er fade away.

I've seen on the green, blooming maidens unfeigning,
With love their eye smiling most cheerful and gay,
The lone mountain echoes now return their complaining,
Fond hope's brightest prospects are all wed away.

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