I dream’d I lay where flowers wer… Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singin… By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and da…

BLEST be M’Murdo to his latest… No envious cloud o’ercast his even… No wrinkle, furrow’d by the hand o… Nor ever sorrow add one silver hai… O may no son the father’s honour s…

A Guide New-year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…

I’m now arrived– thanks to the god… Thro’ pathways rough and muddy, A certain sign that makin roads Is no this people’s study: Altho’ I’m not wi’ Scripture cram…

AS cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in’t but few: As cauld a minister’s e’er spak; Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.

There’s nane that’s blest of human… But the cheerful and the gay, man, Fal, la, la, &c. Here’s a bottle and an honest frie… What wad ye wish for mair, man?

WHEN chill November’s surly blas… Made fields and forests bare, One ev’ning, as I wander’d forth Along the banks of Ayr, I spied a man, whose aged step

Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy looks wave in the breeze… All freshly steep’d in morning dew… And maun I still on Menie doat,

As I was a—wand’ring ae morning i… I heard a young ploughman sae swee… And as he was singin’, thir words… There’s nae life like the ploughma… The lav’rock in the morning she’ll…

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flower and spreading tre… There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver. Oh I had wooers aught or nine,

WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo, weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey l… On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus

AULD chuckie Reekie’s 1 sair dis… Down droops her ance weel burnish’… Nae joy her bonie buskit nest Can yield ava, Her darling bird that she lo’es be…

It was a’ for our rightful king That we left fair Scotland’s stra… It was a’ for our rightful king We e’er saw Irish land, My dear,

O aye my wife she dang me, An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, If ye gie a woman a’ her will, Gude faith she’ll soon o’ergang ye… On peace and rest my mind was bent…

Thou lingering star, with less’nin… That lov’st to greet the early mor… Again thou usherast in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary, dear departed shade