2.

I have strain'd the spider's thread
'Gainst the promise of a maid;
I have weigh'd a grain of sand
'Gainst her plight of heart and hand;
I told my true love of the token,
How her faith proved light, and her
word was broken:

Again her word and truth she plight,
And I believed them again ere night.

From Woodstock. [1826.]

AN HOUR WITH THEE. AN hour with thee!-When earliest day Dapples with gold the eastern grey, Oh, what can frame my mind to bear The toil and turmoil, cark and care, New griefs, which coming hours unfold, And sad remembrance of the old ?— One hour with thee.

One hour with thee!-When burning
June

Waves his red flag at pitch of noon;
What shall repay the faithful swain,
His labour on the sultry plain;

And more than cave or sheltering bough, Cool feverish blood, and throbbing brow?

One hour with thee.

One hour with thee!-When sun is set,
O, what can teach me to forget
The thankless labours of the day;
The hopes, the wishes, flung away;
The increasing wants, and lessening gains,
The master's pride, who scorns my
pains?-

One hour with thee.

From the Fair Maid of Perth.
[1828.]

THE LAY OF POOR LOUISE.
AH, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
Think on Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,
It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye,

The woodland walk was cool and nigh, Where birds with chiming streamlets vie To cheer Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair; The wolves molest not paths so fairBut better far had such been there

For poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold
She met a huntsman fair and bold;
His baldric was of silk and gold,
And many a witching tale he told
To poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;
For peace of mind, that gift divine,
And spotless innocence, were thine,
Ah, poor Louise!

Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft!
I know not if by force or theft,
Or part by violence, part by gift;
But misery is all that's left

Louise.

From the Doom of Devorgoil. THE SUN UPON THE LAKE. THE sun upon the lake is low,

The wild birds hush their song,

The hills have evening's deepest glow,
Yet Leonard tarries long.

Now all whom varied toil and care
From home and love divide,
In the calm sunset may repair
Each to the loved one's side.

The noble dame, on turret high,

Who waits her gallant knight, Looks to the western beam to spy The flash of armour bright. The village maid, with hand on brow, The level ray to shade, Upon the footpath watches now

For Colin's darkening plaid.

Now to their mates the wild swans row,
By day they swam apart,
And to the thicket wanders slow

The hind beside the hart.
The woodlark at his partner's side,
Twitters his closing song-
All meet whom day and care divide,
But Leonard tarries long.
ADMIRE NOT THAT I GAIN'D.
ADMIRE not that I gain'd the prize
From all the village crew;
How could I fail with hand or eyes,
When heart and faith were true?

BONNY

And when in floods of rosy wine
My comrades drown'd their cares,
I thought but that thy heart was mine,
My own leapt light as theirs.

My brief delay then do not blame,
Nor deem your swain untrue;
My form but linger'd at the game,
My soul was still with you.

WHEN THE TEMPEST.

WHEN the tempest's at the loudest,
On its gale the eagle rides;
When the ocean rolls the proudest,
Through the foam the sea-bird glides-
All the rage of wind and sea
Is subdued by constancy.

Gnawing want and sickness pining,
All the ills that men endure;
Each their various pangs combining,
Constancy can find a cure-
Pain, and Fear, and Poverty,
Are subdued by constancy.

Bar me from each wonted pleasure,
Make me abject, mean, and poor;
Heap on insults without measure,
Chain me to a dungeon floor-
I'll be happy, rich, and free,
If endow'd with constancy.

DUNDEE.