The sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;
The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled
around,

And there was joyance in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the priest of Aberbro-
thok."

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape
float.

Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around;
Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes
to the Rock

Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,
He scoured the seas for many a day;
And now, grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon.'

"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers

roar?

For methinks we should be near the shore; Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell."

They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,

Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock:

Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock!"

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He cursed himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

But even in his dying fear
One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell
The fiends below were ringing his knell.

BROUGH BELLS.

ONE day to Helbeck I had strolled,
Among the Crossfell Hills,
And, resting in the rocky grove,
Sat listening to the rills,

The while to their sweet undersong
The birds sang blithe around,
And the soft west-wind awoke the wood
To an intermitting sound.

Louder or fainter, as it rose

Or died away, was borne

The harmony of merry bells

From Brough, that pleasant morn.

"Why are the merry bells of Brough,
My friend, so few?" said I;
"They disappoint the expectant ear,
Which they should gratify.

"One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four;

'Tis still one, two, three, four: Mellow and silvery are the tones;

But I wish the bells were more!"

A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, Ye could not Hester.

My sprightly neighbor, gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore,

Some summer morning,

When from thy cheerful eyes a ray Hath struck a bliss upon the day, A bliss that would not go away,

A sweet forewarning?

JAMES HOGG.

[1772-1835-]

WHEN MAGGY GANGS AWAY.

O, WHAT will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There's no a heart in a' the glen
That disna dread the day;-
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

Young Jock has ta'en the hill for 't,
A waefu' wight is he;

Poor Harry's ta'en the bed for 't,
An' laid him down to dee;
And Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
And learnin fast to pray;
O, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

The young laird o' the Lang Shaw
Has drunk her health in wine;
The priest has said-in confidence-
The lassie was divine;

And that is mair in maiden's praise
Than ony priest should say;-
But 0, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?

The wailing in our green glen

That day will quaver high,

THE RAPTURE OF KILMENY.

121

BONNY Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
And pu' the cress-flower round the spring;
The scarlet hip and the hindberrye,
And the nut that hangs frae the hazel-
tree;

For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
And lang may she seek i' the green-wood
shaw;

Lang the laird of Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet, or Kilmeny com hame!

When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,

When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead-bell rung,

Late, late in a gloamin' when all was still,

When the fringe was red on the westlin' hill,

The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;

When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny came

hame!

"Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?

Lang hae we sought baith holt and den,
By linn, by ford, by greenwood tree,
Yet you are halesome and fair to see.
Where gat you that joup o' the lily sheen?
That bonny snood o' the birk sae green!
And these roses, the fairest that ever were
seen?

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?"

Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face;

The laverock frae the sky;

The fairies frae their beds o' dew

where,

And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare.

Kilmeny had been where the cock never

crew,

Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew ;

But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,

And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,

When she spake of the lovely forins she

had seen,

And a land where sin had never been,
A land of love and a land of light,
Withouten sun or moon or night;
Where the river swa'd a living stream,
And the light a pure celestial beam:
The land of vision it would seem,
A still, an everlasting dream.
In yon green-wood there is a waik,
And in that waik there is a wene,
And in that wene there is a maike,
That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane;
And down in yon green-wood he walks
his lane.

In that green wene Kilmeny lay,
Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay;
But the air was soft, and the silence deep,
And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep;
She kend nae mair, nor opened her e'e,
Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye.
She awaked on a couch of the silk sae
slim,

All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim;

And lovely beings round were rife, Who erst had travelled mortal life; And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer, "What spirit has brought this mortal here?"

They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair,

They kissed her cheek, and they kemed her hair,

And round came many a blooming fere, Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome here!

"O, would the fairest of mortal kind
Aye keep the holy truths in mind,
That kindred spirits their motions see,
Who watch their ways with anxious e'e,
And grieve for the guilt of humanitye!
O, sweet to Heaven the maiden's prayer,

And dear to Heaven the words of truth, And the praise of virtue frae beauty's mouth!

And dear to the viewless forms of air,
The minds that kythe as the body fair!
O bonny Kilmeny! free frae stain,
If ever you seek the world again,
That world of sin, of sorrow, and fear, —
O, tell of the joys that are waiting here,
And tell of the signs you shall shortly see;
Of the times that are now, and the times
that shall be."

"O, blest be the day Kilmeny was born! Now shall the land of the spirits see, Now shall it ken what a woman may be! The sun that shines on the world sae bright, A borrowed gleid of the fountain of light; And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun, Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair, And the angels shall miss them travelling the air.

But lang, lang after baith night and day, When the sun and the world have elyed