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An' hope o' better days remains,
An' hauds the heart aboon."

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.

THE dawning was mild, and the hamlet was wild, For it stood by an untrodded shore of the main, When Duncan was rais'd from his slumber, amaz'd,

By a voice at his door, that did shortly complain

"Rise, Duncan, I perish!" his bosom was fir'd

With feelings no language or pen can convey: 'Twas a voice he had heard, and with rapture admir'd,

Ere fatal Culloden had forc'd him away.

He flew to the rock that o'ershadow'd his cot, And wistfully look'd where his vision could reach;

He shouted-but only the echoes about

Him answer'd, and billows that rush'd on the

beach.

For the winds were at rest, but the ocean, opprest, Still heav'd like an earthquake, and broke on

the shore;

The mist settled high on the mountains of Skye, And the wild howling storm ruffled nature no

more.

He search'd every glen, every creek, every isle, Although every sense was with reason at strife; When the sun blinked red o'er the hills of Argyll, He found his Matilda, his lady, his wife! Resign'd to her fate, on a little green plat,

Where a cliff intercepted the wanderer's way, On her bosom so fair, and her fine yellow hair, The frost of the morning lay crisped and gray.

He wept like a child, while beside her he kneel'd, And cried, "O, kind Father, look down on my woe!

O, spare my sweet wife, and the whole of my life, My heart, for the gift, shall with gratitude glow!"

By care and attention she slowly recovers,

And found herself lock'd in her husband's em

brace.

But, reader, if ever thou hast been a lover,
Thy heart will outgo me, and furnish this space.

She said she had heard of his quiet retreat, And had come from the vale ere the tempest had low'r'd;

That the snow and the sleet had benumb'd her

weak feet,

And with hunger and cold she was quite over

power'd.

For her way she had lost, and the torrents she cross'd

Had often nigh borne her away to the main ; But the night coming on, she had laid herself

down,

And prayed to her Maker, nor prayed she in vain.

"But did not you call at my cottage so early, When morning's gray streamers scarce crested the fell?

A voice then did name me, and waken'd me fairly, And bade me arise, and the voice I knew well.' "Than where I was found, I was never more nigh

thee:

I sunk, overcome by toil, famine, and grief; Some pitying angel, then hovering by me, Has taken my voice to afford me relief."

Then down they both bow'd, and most solemnly vow'd

To their great Benefactor his goodness to mind, Both evening and morning unto them returning; And well they perform'd the engagement we find

They both now are cold; but the tale they have told,

To many, while gratitude's tears fell in store; And whenever I pass by the bonny Glenasby, I mind the adventure on Morven's lone shore.

CAULD IS THE BLAST.

TUNE-Lord Elcho's Delight.

CAULD is the blast on the braes of Strahonan,
The top of Ben-Wevis is driftin' wi' snaw!
The child i' my bosom is shiverin' an' moanin';
Oh! pity a wretch that has naething ava.
My feet they are bare, and my cleathin is duddy,
Yes, look gentle traveller; ance I was gay;
I hae twa little babies, baith healthy and ruddy
But want will waste them and their mother
away.

We late were as blythe as the bird on the Beauly, When the woodland is green, an' the flower on

the lee :

But now he's ta'en frae us for ay, wha was truly
A father to them, and a husband to me.
My Duncan supplied me, though far away lyin'
Wi' heroes, the glory and pride of our isle ;

But orders obeyin', and dangers defyin',

He fell wi' Macleod on the banks of the Nile.

Pale, pale grew the traveller's visage so manly, An' down his grave cheek the big rollin' tear

ran;

I am not alone in the loss has befa'n me! *

O wae to ambition the misery of man!
But go to my hall: to the poor an' the needy
My table is furnish'd, an' open my door;

An' there I will cherish, an' there I will feed thee,
And often together our loss we'll deplore."

THE SKYLARK.

BIRD of the wilderness,

Blythesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place

O to abide in the desart with thee;

Wild is thy lay and loud,

Far in the downy cloud,

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth,

Where on thy dewy wing

The traveller was Macleod of Geanies, father to the late brave Captain Macleod, who fell amongst his countrymen in Egypt.

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