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IF E'ER I AM THINE

Was written to an Irish air, called “ The Winding Sheet,” and harmonized by Smith; but was, I believe, one of the suppressed ones.

IF e'er I am thine, the birds of the air,

The beasts of the field, and fish of the sea, Shall in our love and happiness share,

Within their elements fair and free, And rejoice because I am thine, love.

We'll have no flowers, nor words of love,

Nor dreams of bliss that never can be;

Our trust shall be in Heaven above,

Our hope in a far futurity
Must arise, when I am made thine, love.

And this shall raise our thoughts more high

Than visions of vanity here below; For chequer'd through life our path must lie,–

Mid gleams of joy and shades of woe We must journey, when I am thine, love.

MEG O' MARLEY.

NORTH.

You were once so good as to flatter me, by saying that I ought to go into Parliament. Now, James, if you wish it, I'll bring you in.

SHEPHERD.

I haena the least ambition. Sae far frae envying the glory o' the orators i' that house, I wadna swap ane o' my ain wee bits o’ sangs wi' the langest-windit speech that has been “ Hear ! hear'd !” this session.

TICKLER.

James, let us have Meg o' Marley.

SHEPHERD (sings.)
O KEN ye Meg o' Marley glen,

The bonny blue-eed dearie?

the men,

She's play'd the deil amang

An' a' the land's grown eery She's stown the “ Bangor” frae the clerk,

An' snool'd him wi’ the shame o't; The minister's fa’n through the text,

An' Meg gets a' the blame o’t.

The ploughman ploughs without the sock;

The gadman whistles sparely;
The shepherd pines amang his flock,

An' turns his een to Marley;
The tailor lad's fa'n ower the bed ;

The cobler ca’s a parley ;
The weaver's neb's out through the web,

An' a' for Meg o' Marley.

What's to be done, for our gudeman

Is flyting late an' early ?
He rises but to curse an' ban,

An' sits down but to ferly.
But ne'er had love a brighter lowe

Than light his torches sparely

At the bright een an' blithesome brow

O'bonny Meg o' Marley.

NORTH.

A simple matter, but well worth Joseph Hume's four hours' speech, and forty-seven resolutions.Noctes AMBROSIANÆ, No. XXV.

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