HOHENLINDEN. To the foregoing Tune. ON Linden, when the sun was low, quite accablé. I attempted to reason with him. Mercy on us, how he did fume and rage! Nothing could reinstate him in temper. I tried various expedients, and at last hit on one that succeeded. I showed him the house of ****, across the bay of Wigton. Against ****, with whom he was offended, he expectorated his spleen, and regained a most agreeable temper. He was in a most epigrammatic humour indeed! He afterwards fell on humbler game. There is one ****** whom he does not love. He had a passing blow at him. When -, deceased, to the Devil went down, "Well I am to bring you to Kircudbright along with our poet, without boots. I carried the torn ruins across my saddle in spite of his fulminations, and in contempt of appearances; and what is more, Lord SELKIRK carried them in his coach to Dumfries. He insisted they were worth mending. "We enjoyed a most happy evening at Lord SELKIRK's. We had, in every sense of the word, a feast, in which our minds and our senses were equally gratified. The poet was delighted with his company, and acquitted himself to admiration. The lion that had raged so violently in the morning, was now as mild and gentle as a lamb. Next day we returned to Dumfries, and so ends our peregrination. I told you, that in the midst of the storm, on the wilds of Kenmore, BURNS was rapt in meditation. What do you think he was about? He was charging the English army, along with BRUCE, at Bannockburn. He was engaged in the same manner on our ride home from St. Mary's Isle, and I did not disturb him. Next day he produced me the Address of BRUCE to his troops, and gave me a copy for DALZELL." But Linden show'd another sight, By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Then shook the hills, by thunder riven- But redder yet these fires shall glow The battle thickens!-On ye brave! Shout 'mid their sulph'rous canopy. Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. * *This piece, by the Author of the "Pleasures of Hope," is perhaps the only one of the kind, in any language, that can be brought forward as a parallel to that of BURNS; but excellent as it is in respect to composition, Bruce's Address will always obtain a decided preference with those who are susceptible to the genuine glow of patriotic sentiment, and who are capable of sympathizing with "the desperate relics of a gallant nation, devoting themselves to rescue their bleeding country, or perish with her!" THE THISTLE. TUNE-" Sprig of Shillelah." LET them boast of the country gave Patrick his fame, Of the land of the ocean, and Anglian name, With their red blushing roses, and shamrock sae green; Far dearer to me are the hills of the North, The land of blue mountains, the birth place of worth, Though rich be the soil, where blossoms the rose; Far fam'd are our sires in the battles of yore, Oh! dear to our souls are the blessings of Heav'n, LIZY LIBERTY. TUNE-" Tibby Fowler in the glen." THERE lives a lassie on the brae, And monie ane's wooing at her. There's o'er monie wooing at her. Her mither wears a plettit mutch; A pleasant lass she's kent to be, Wi' fouth o' sense an' smeddam in her; But tries wi' a' his might to win her. But sweet and pleasant as she is, Like highland couts amang the heather. It's seven years, and somewhat mair, Sin' Matthew Dutch made courtship till her; A merchant bluff, ayont the burn, Wi' heaps o' breeks an' bags o' siller. Wooing at her, &c. The next to him was Baltic John, Now Lawrie French has ta'en the whim, They've casten out wi' a their kin, But Donald Scot's the happy lad, As aften as he likes to see her. Wooing at her, &c. But Donald, tak' a friend's advice, E'en just be doing as you are, And haud wi' what ye're getting frae her. Wooing at her, &c. Ye're well, and wats nae, as we say, |