THE LAND O' THE LEAL.

I'm wearing awa', Jean,

Like snaw when it is thaw, Jean;

I'm wearing awa', Jean,

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,

The day is aye fair, Jean,

In the land o' the leal.

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
Your task's ended now, Jean,

And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith gude and fair, Jean,

And we grudged her right sair

To the land o' the leal.

ANON.

Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me

To the land o' the leal.

Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
This warld's care is vain, Jean,
We'll meet and aye be fain

In the land o' the leal.

THE PEACE EU' HAME.

ANON.

OUR cosie hame, our peacefu' hame,
Is a' the warld to me, Annie;
There love keeps lit its glowin' flame-
A flame that ne'er can dee, Annie,

And there through a' the live lang day Like lammies on yon sunny brae,

Our bonnie bairnies skip and play—

Their hearts rin owre wi' glee, Annic.

Near them wha can e'er grow auld?

Near them hearts can ne'er

grow cauld;

A glint o' heaven their smiles unfauld, To lift our thochts on hie, Annie.

What though jostlin' on life's road Baith greed and pride we see, Annie, Let's aye be thankfu' its sae broadThere's room for thee and me, Annie!

Let big Ambition strut and strive,
Alang his weary hirelings drive;
We hae contentment, and can thrive,
Though laigh our lot may be, Annie.

Nane can blight earth's bonnie flowers,
Veil the sun, or stay the showers;
The birds are free within their bowers
To sing to thee an' me, Annie.

We winna grudge the great their braws,
Nor a' the gear they hae, Annie;
Aft Fashion as a canker gnaws

Kind Nature's heart away, Annie.

Nae wicked wassails shall us pain,
Or taint life's healthy, floodin' vein;
Whae'er the deadly bowl may drain,

"Twill ne'er be thee or me, Annie.

Side by side as trees we'll grow,
Smooth, as burnies, on we'll row;
Our lives be ae lang lover's vow,
Until the day we dee, Annie!

WOMAY.

From a Poem entitled "Silent Love."

JAMES WILSON.

O woman! woman! ever true and kind, Thou sweet perfection of the gentle mind! Blest to refine thy lord-like brother-man, The last, but noblest of the Almighty's plan! How calm, how tender, and how full of love, An earthly angel sent him from above;— A being in whose soft expressive eyes We read the light, the language of the skies!