Yet wheresoe'er my footsteps roam,
Through every changing scene,

Though boundless seas between us foam,
I'll love thee still, my Jean!

Farewell to Scotland's sea-girt shore,
Farewell, my bosom's pride!
How sweet, when every toil is o'er,
To claim thee for my bride.
Again this heart shall throb to thine,
With pulse yet fond and true;
The joys we shared in auld lang syne
Our meeting will renew.

Then breathe a prayer when I'm away,
That through each changeful scene,
Kind Heaven may all my care repay,
And bless me with my Jean!

A. LINLEY.

THE IRISH EMIGRANT.

I'm sitting by the stile, Mary, where we sat side by side, On a bright May morning long ago, when first you were my bride.

The corn was springing fresh and green, and the lark sang loud and high,

And the red was on your lip, Mary, and the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary, the day is bright as

then,

The lark's loud song is in my ear, and the corn is green again;

But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, and the breath warm on your cheek,

And I still keep listening to the words you never more may speak.

I'm very lonely now, Mary, for the poor make no new

friends;

But oh, they love the better still the few our Father sends.

And you were all I had, Mary, my blessing and my pride; There's nothing left to care for now, since my poor Mary died.

I'm bidding you a long farewell, my Mary kind and true; But I'll not forget you, darlin', in the land I'm going to. They say there's bread and work for all, and the sun shines always there;

But I'll ne'er forget old Ireland, were it fifty times as fair. LADY DUFFERIN.

GOOD NEWS FROM HOME.

GOOD news from home, good news for me,
Has come across the deep blue sea,
From friends that I have left in tears,
From friends that I've not seen for years;
And since we parted long ago
My life has been a scene of woe,
But now a joyful hour has come,

For I have heard good news from home.

Good news from home, &c.

No father's near to guide me now,
No mother's tear to soothe my brow,
No sister's voice falls on mine ear,
Nor brother's smile to give me cheer;
But though I wandered far away,
My heart is full of joy to-day,
For friends across the ocean's foam
Have sent to me good news from home.

Good news from home, &c.

When shall I see that cottage door,
Where I've spent years of joy before?
'Twas then I knew no grief or care,
My heart was always happy there.
Though I may never see it more,
Nor stand upon my native shore,
Where'er on earth I'm doomed to roam,
My heart will be with those at home.

Good news from home, &c.

N. S. GILMORE.

Songs of War.

'To arms, to arms, your ensigns straight display,

Now set the battle in array ;—

The oracle for war declares,

Success depends upon our hearts and spears.

Britons, strike home! revenge your country's wrongs;

Fight, and record yourselves in Druids' songs.'

Old Song, 1696.

Go sing it in song, and tell it in story,

He went in his strength and returned in his glory. His foot's in the stirrup, his hand's on the mane, He is up and away !

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

HARK! THE MERRY DRUM.

HARK! the merry drum is sounding,
Loud reveillée to the day;

See the charger proudly bounding,

Eager for the coming fray.
March, march!

Forward march !

March! my comrades, on to glory,
Fearless over sea or land,

Long shall live renown'd in story,
They who die for father-land.

March, march! Forward march!

Fare thee well, my joy and pleasure,
Do not weep, though now we part,
Honour is the dearest treasure,
To a faithful soldier's heart.

Fare thee well! fare thee well!

Welcome then the call of duty,
Welcome din and storm of war,

Cheer'd by thoughts of home and beauty,
Love shall be our guiding star.

Fare thee well! fare thee well!

T. OLIPHANT.

PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU.

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan-Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons !
Come in your war array,

Gentles and commons.