The Nymph's Description of Her Fawn.

ITH sweetest milk and sugar, first
I it at mine own fingers nursed;
And, as it grew, so every day

It wax'd more white and sweet than

they,

It had so sweet a breath! and oft

I blush'd to see its foot more soft,

And white, shall I say? than my hand

Than any lady's of the land.

It was a wondrous thing how fleet
'Twas on those little silver feet;
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race;
And when 't had left me far away,
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay.
For it was nimbler much than hinds,
And trod as if on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own,

But so with roses overgrown,
And lilies, that you would it guess

To be a little wilderness;

And all the spring-time of the year
It loved only to be there.

Among the beds of lilies I

Have sought it oft, where it should lie;
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it although before mine eyes;

Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn.

HE wind blew hollow frae the hills,
By fits the sun's departing beam
Looked on the fading yellow woods,

That waved o'er Lugar's winding stream;
Beneath a craigy steep, a bard,

Laden with years and meikle pain,

In loud lament bewailed his lord,

Whom death had all untimely ta'en.

He leaned him to an ancient aik,

Whose trunk was mouldering down with years;

His locks were bleachéd white wi' time,

His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears!
And as he touched his trembling harp,
And as he tuned his doleful sang,
The winds lamenting through their caves,
To echo bore their notes alang.

"Ye scattered birds, that faintly sing,
The relics of the vernal quire!
Ye woods, that shed on a' the winds
The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and, glad and gay,
Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
But nocht, in all revolving time,

Can gladness bring again to me.