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Sweet bud of the wilderness ! emblem of all

That remains in this desolate heart! The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall;

But patience shall never depart ! Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright,

In the days of delusion by fancy combined,
With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight
Abandon my soul like a dream of the night,

And leave but a desert behind.
Be hushed, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns

When the faint and the feeble deplore;
Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems

A thousand wild waves on the shore !
Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain,

May thy front be unaltered, thy courage elate ! Yea! even the name I have worshipped in vain Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again;

To bear is to conquer our fate.

PATRIOTIC STANZAS,

Composed and recited at a meeting of North Britons, in

London, on Monday, the Sth of August, 1903.
Our bosoms we'll bare to the glorious strife,

And our oath is recorded on high,
To prevail in the Cause that is dearer than life,

Or, crushed in its ruins to die.
Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right-hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land.

'Tis the home we hold sacred is laid to our trust.

God bless the green Isle of the brave !

Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers' dust, It would raise the old dead from their grave.

Then rise, &c.

In a Briton's sweet home shall a spoiler abide,

Profaning its loves and its charms ? Shall a Frenchman insult a loved fair at our side ? To armş–O my Country, to arms !

Then rise, &c.

Shall tyrants enslave us, my countrymen ?-No

Their heads to the sword shall be given; Let a death-bed repentance await the proud foe And his blood be an offering to Heaven !

Then rise, &c.

CAROLINE.

PART I.

I'll bid my hyacinth to blow,

I'll teach my grotto green to be;
And sing my true love, all below

The holly bower and myrtle tree.

There, all his wild-wood scents to bring,

The sweet South Wind shall wander by ; And with the music of his wing,

Delight my rustling canopy.

Come to my close and clustering bower,

Thou spirit of a milder clime !
Fresh with the dews of fruit and flower,
Of mountain heath and moory thyme.

L

With all thy rural echoes come,

Sweet comrade of the rosy day, Wafting the wild bee's gentle hùm,

Or cuckoo's plaintive roundelay. Where'er thy morning breath has played,

Whatever isles of ocean fanned, Come to my blossom woven shade,

Thou wandering wind of fairy land! For sure from some enchanted isle,

Where Heav'n and love their sabbath hold, Where

pure and happy spirits smile, Of beauty's fairest, brightest mould: From some green Eden of the deep,

Where pleasure's sigh alone is heaved, Where tears of rapture lovers weep,

Endeared, undoubting, undeceived;

From some sweet paradise afar,

Thy music wanders, distant, lost; Where nature lights her leading star,

And love is never, never crossed.

Oh! gentle gale of Eden bowers,

If back thy rosy feet should roam, To revel with the cloudless hours,

In nature's more propitious home

Name to thy loved Elysian groves,

That o'er enchanted spirits twine, A fairer form than cherub loves,

And let the name be Caroline.

CAR O L I N E.

PART II.
Gem of the crimson coloured even,

Companion of retiring day
Why at the closing gates of heaven,

Beloved star, dost thou delay?
So fair thy pensile beauty burns,

When soft the tear of twilight flows, So due thy plighted step returns,

To chambers brighter than the rose; To peace, to pleasure, and to love

So kind a star thou seem'st to be, Sure some enamoured orb above

Descends and burns to meet with thee. Thine is the breathing, blushing hour,

When all unheavenly passions fly; Chased by the soul subduing power

Of love's delicious witchery. Oh! sacred to the fall of day,

Queen of propitious stars, appear! And early rise, and long delay,

When Caroline herself is here. Shine on her chosen green resort,

Where trees the sunward summit crown; And wanton flowers, that well may court

An angel's feet to tread them down. Shine on her sweetly scented road,

Thou star of evening's purple dome! That lead'st the nightingale abroad,

And guid’st the pilgrim to his home.

Shine, where my charmer's sweeter breath

Embalms thy sost exhaling dew; Where dying winds a sigh bequeath

To kiss her cheek of rosy hue. Where, winnowed by the gentle air,

Her silken tresses darkly flow, And fall upon her brows so fair,

Like shadows on the mountain snow. Thus, ever thus, at day's decline

In converse sweet to wander far, Oh! bring with thee my Caroline,

And thou shalt be my ruling star!

O DE

TO THE

MEMORY OF BURNS.

Soul of the Poet! wheresoe'er
Reclaimed from earth thy genius plume

Her wings of immortality;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume

The gladness of our jubilee.
And fly like fiends from secret spell,
Discord and strise, at Burns's name,

Exorcised by his memory;
For he was chief of bards that swell
The heart with songs of social flame,

And high delicious revelry.

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