Light the lamp of love, —
Light it with a fire
Falling from above,
Sparkling with desire.
When the flame is bright,
Place it in the bower
Where true hearts delight
To pass the evening hour:
It will softly shine
Through the mantling leaves,
Which the Graces twine,
And affection weaves, —
Weaves into a chain,
With the smile of bliss,
Melting looks that banish pain,
And pure enjoyment's honeyed kiss.

See! how bright it gleams,
Like the evening star, —
How its mellow beams
Scatter wide and far,

Farewell, glens and flowing rivers,
Dark brown moors and mountains blue,
Heath-clad cots and broomy valleys,
Scenes of youth and love, adieu!
Doomed to wander, doomed to sorrow,
All I love I leave with you.

O'er the grave that wraps my father
Oft I've shed the silent tear,
But the parting wi' my mother,
My lorn heart can never bear.
Oh! our home was pure and holy,
Oh! our love was all sincere.

Gazing on the humble shieling,
List'ning to the gurgling rill,
Watching every cloudy shadow

" Oh! whaur gat ye that pearly brow,
An' whaur gat ye that rosy mou',
An' whaur gat ye thae een sae blue,
That play sic pranks wi' mine, jo? "
" The ne'er a pearl there's on my brow,
The ne'er a rose blaws on my mou',
My een ye canna ken their hue,
They ne'er were raised to thine, jo. "

" Ae glance, ae sparkling glance was mine,
An' Hope has dwalt wi' me sinsyne;
Then let these stars in mercy shine
On him wha worships thee, jo. "
" Seek stars in heaven, for there they shine,
Gae worship at some haly shrine,

I know as well as you she is not fair,
Nor hath she sparkling eyes, or curled hair;
Nor can she brag of virtue or of truth,
Or anything about her, save her youth.
She is woman too, and to no end
I know, I verses write and letters send;
And nought I do can to compassion move her;
All this I know, yet cannot choose but love her.
Yet am not blind, as you and others be,
Who think and swear they little Cupid see
Play in their mistress' eyes, and that there dwell
Roses on cheeks, and that her breasts excel

Alane I wander, alane I pine,
Whaur nane can hear, an' whaur nane can see,
To sigh ower the days o' auld lang syne,
Wi' brimfou' bosom an' tearfu' ee.
There's nane to feel or to care for me,
There's nane to ken the wanderer noo,
Wha roamed these mountains in youthfu' glee,
But climbs them noo wi' a careworn broo.

For hopeless love did I leave my hame,
For hopeless love did I lang to dee;
My love, my langin' are still the same,
But my dear Mary, — O whaur is she!
And what are thae changeless hills to me,

Three weeks since there was no such rose in being;
Now may eyes made dim with deep delight
See how fair it is, laugh with love, and seeing
Praise the chance that bids us bless the sight

Three weeks old, and a very rose of roses,
Bright and sweet as love is sweet and bright.
Heaven and earth, till a man's life wanes and closes,
Show not life or love a lovelier sight.

Three weeks past have renewed the rosebright creature
Day by day with life, and night by night.
Love, though fain of its every faultless feature,

Voltaire, our England's lover, man divine
Beyond all Gods that ever fear adored
By right and might, by sceptre and by sword,
By godlike love of sunlike truth, made thine
Through godlike hate of falsehood's marshlight shine
And all the fume of creeds and deeds abhorred
Whose light was darkness, till the dawn-star soared,
Truth, reason, mercy, justice, keep thy shrine
Sacred in memory's temple, seeing that none
Of all souls born to strive before the sun
Loved ever good or hated evil more.
The snake that felt thy heel upon her head,

A Lion to a Woodcutter:
" Your daughter, may I marry her? "
The father, loath and yet suspecting
He'd suffer violence by rejecting,
Agreed by contract with the clause
To draw his teeth and cut his claws —
To which the Lion gave assent
(Love blinding him to the intent).
When next the Beast a-wooing came,
As harmless as a cat and tame,
The Woodcutter he seized an axe
And gave him sundry sudden whacks.

MORAL

A lover, who to win a wife
Surrenders all he's got in life,

The night is dark; the hollow wind
Is breathing faint and low:
Though loth to leave my love behind,
Perforce away I go.

Away o'er mountain and o'er moor, —
My guide, no friendly star;
No window-light, to lead me o'er
The heath, that spreads afar.

Though dark the night, a darker shade
Hangs heavy round my heart.
How deep it sank, as cold she said
Those bitter words: " We part! "

" We part, and, ay, for ever too:
My love for thee has gone. "
I turned, and bade no last adieu
But wildly hurried on.

I.

May has come: — the woods are ringing;
Clearer sounds the hunter's horn;
Birds in every brake are singing;
Yellow-green the springing corn.

May has come: — in field and meadow
Starry bloom the virgin flowers;
Broad the maple flings its shadow;
Snowy white the elder bowers.

Green the slope of yonder mountain,
Mellowed to a golden glow;