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EAR as thou wert, and justly dear,
One thought shall check the starting tear,
It is that thou art free.
And thus shall Faith's consoling power
The tears of love restrain;
Oh! who that saw thy parting hour,
Triumphant in thy closing eye
Sustained by grace divine:
Oh! may such grace on me be shed,
And make my end like thine!
REV. T. DALE. [From "The Widow of Nain."]
The Winter Walk at Noon.
HE night was winter in his roughest mood,
And where the woods fence off the northern blast,
And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue
And through the trees I view the embattled tower
The redbreast warbles still, but is content
With slender notes, and more than half suppressed.
UT are ye sure the news is true?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye jauds, fling bye your wheel.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's nae luck about the house,
When our gudeman's awa.
Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue;
His breath 's like caller air;
His very fit has music in't,
As he comes up
[WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE is chiefly known by his elegant and scholarly translation of the "Lusiade" of Camoens. He also wrote several ballads of more than average merit. The foregoing may be taken as a favourable specimen.]