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JAMES BALLANTINE.

ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW.

CONFIDE ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,

And bear ye a' life's changes, wi' a calm and tranquil mind,

Though pressed and hemmed on every side, ha'e faith and ye'll win through For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o’dew.

Gin reft frae friends or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye've been,
Grief lies deep hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae your een,
Believe it for the best, and trow there's good in store for you,
For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

In lang, lang days o' simmer, when the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to nature parched and dry,

The genial night, wi' balmy breath, gars verdure spring anew,
And ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

Sae, lest 'mid fortune's sunshine we should feel owre proud and hie,
And in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's e'e,
Some wee dark clouds o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or hoo,
But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.

LIFE.

LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me's a secret yet.

Life! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;

'Tis hard to part when friends are dear

Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;

- Then steal away, give little warning,

Choose thine own time;
Say not Good Night,
brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning.

THE DEATH OF THE VIRTUOUS.

SWEET is the scene when virtue dies!
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes.
How gently heaves th' expiring
breast.

So fades a summer cloud away

So sinks the gale when storms are
o'er,

So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies a wave along the shore.

Triumphant smiles the victor brow, Fanned by some angel's purple wing;

-but in some Where is, O Grave! thy victory now! And where, insidious Death, thy sting!

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TELL the fainting soul in the weary Is the outer garb, which the hand of

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Protected industry beneath thy reign To public plenty, private case di Leads all the virtues in her filial

train;

Courageous Probity, with browserene;
And Temperance calm presents her
placid mien;

Contentment, Moderation, Labor,
Art,

Mould the new man and humanize
his heart;

lates,

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LADY ANNE BARNARD.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame,
When a' the weary warld to quiet rest are gane;

The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
Unkenned by my gudeman who soundly sleeps by me.

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride,
But, saving ae crown piece, he'd naething else beside.
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea;
And the crown and the pound, O they were baith for me!

Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day,
My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away;
My mother she fell sick- my Jamie was at sea-
And Auld Robin Gray, O! he came a-courting me.

My father cou'dna work - my mother cou'dna spin;
I toiled day and night, but their bread I cou'dna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee,
Said, "Jenny, O! for their sakes, will you marry me!”

My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back;
But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack;
His ship it was a wrack! Why didna Jamie dee ?
Or, wherefore am I spared to cry out, Wae is me!

My father argued sair my mother didna speak,
But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break;
They gied him my hand, but my heart was in the sea;
And so Auld Robin Gray, he was gudeman to me.

I hadna been his wife, a week but only four,
When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door,
I saw my Jamie's ghaist I cou'dna think it he,

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Till he said, "I'm come hame, my love, to marry thee!"

O sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a';
Ae kiss we took, na mair- I bade him gang awa.
I wish that I were dead, but I'm nae like to dee;
For O, I am but young to cry out, Wae is me!

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,
I darena think of Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I will do my best a gude wife aye to be,
For Auld Robin Gray, Ō! he is sae kind to me.

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SLOWLY I circle the dim, dizzy stair, Wrapt in my cloak's gray fold, Holding my heart lest it throb to theair Its radiant secret, for though I be old,

Though I totter and rock like a ship in the wind,

And the sunbeams come unto me broken and blind,

But their ears only hear mighty melodies ringing,

And their souls never know 'tis my angel there singing,

That the grand organ-angel awakes in his cell

Under my spell.

There in the midst of the wandering pipes,

Far from the gleaming keys,

Yet my spirit drinks youth from And the organ-front with its gilded

the treasure we hold,

Richer than gold.

stripes,

My glorious angel lies sleeping at

ease.

Princes below me, lips wet from the And the hand of a stranger may beat

wine,

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at his gate,

And the ear of a stranger may listen

and wait,

But he only cries in his pain for these,

Witless to please.

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