Her harp hung beside her, and, shading her brow, Dark ringlets in clusters all carelessly lay;

And she smil'd as the wind swept her bosom of snow,

For here she felt happy, and cheerful, and gay. And she gaz'd on the stars, and her heart it beat high,

As she pour'd out her soul in a fond holy lay; And she pray'd for a world that had made her to sigh,

For she knew that in it she could never be gay. But yet she once lov'd it, and once, too, admir'd, Could join in its pleasures in splendid array; In the song or the dance she was last to be tir'd, For she deem'd that in these she could always be gay.

But her heart's tender hopes were too early bereft Of all they once clung to in life's sunny day;

m

And the gay friends she cherish'd had all of them left,

O! say, could she then in the world appear gay? And she lov'd-but the youth who had lov'd her deceiv'd, [betray;

And the bright smiles he gave her beam'd but to For he left her unpitied-alone-and aggriev'd,O! she felt after this she could never be gay. Then she turn'd to her harp, and, beside the lone sea, Where her false-hearted lover had sail'd far away, She pour'd in the twilight love's sad minstrelsy, And she felt, as she play'd, her heart warm and be gay.

And thus 'tis in solitude most of us find,

When fond hopes are blighted, and friendships decay,

That relief which in crowds ever flies from the mind, Which makes us feel happy, and cheerful, and gay.

Allegro.

O dear,

O dear! I'm a

O dear, O dear! I fear I shall never get wed,
For indeed, you must know, wherever I go,

They laugh at my carrotty head.
T'other day I went up to town wi' young squire,-
They said that my head would set Lunnun a-fire:
I seed pretty women, wi' cheeks like a rose;
I gave one a buss, but she painted my nose ;-
O dear, O dear! I couldn't, I'm sure, for my soul,
Like the touch of her cheek, if I rubb'd for a week,
Get the red from my carrotty poll.

O dear, O dear! a quack in our village one day, He said that he could, and I said that he should,

Come and take all my carrots away; So he rubb'd and he scrubb'd, till my face went awry, Wi' some stuff that he called his 'New Patent Dye:'

My hair he turn'd black, and my pockets he drain'd,
And I look'd like the devil first day that it rain'd.
O dear, O dear! I were such a transmogrified soul,
For my head were as bald as a pig that is scald,
And I long'd for my carrotty poll.

Odear, O dear! the joy of my heart, you'must know,
Was to see the first sprout of hair shooting out,
And my happiness now is arriv'd at the top,
When the carrots began to grow;
Because I have got such a glorious crop;
And the lesson I've learn'd is never to fret,
But be always content with whatever I get.
O dear, O dear! the queer little comical soul
Ever will laud the hands that applaud
The lad with the carrotty poll.

cres.

Come,

is balm,

The moon- lit

Energetico.

Sum-mon clan Con-uil: Come a-way, come

a-way, Hark to the sum-mons;

Come in your war ar-ray, Gen-tles and

com-mons.

Come a-way, come a-way;

Hark to the sum-mons; Come in your war

Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come, every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one;
Come, every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd,

The flock without shelter;
Leave the corps uninterr'd,
The bride at the altar.
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges ;
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.

com-mons.

a-ray, Gen - tles and Come, as the winds come, when Forests are rended;

Come, as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded.

Faster come, faster come,

Faster, and faster;

Chief, vassal, page, and groom,

Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come,
See how they gather:

Wide waves the eagle plume,

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set;

Pibroch of Donuil Dhuibh,
Now for the onset !

with energy.

pression is past, And Clan Gregor Again shall we start the tall stag frora the lair, And strike the coy ptarmigan down from the Again shall we mingle at revel and fair, [height;

As our fathers were wont in the ay of their might;

And again shall the blue eyes of beauty confess, That the dark sons of Gregor their fondness can bless. And what though no longer the clans, as of yore, Find a home in the dells, by their chief's frowning towers,