And therefore it may be my soul ne'er sleeps,
When it is in a pastoral solitude;

And such may be the charm of this lone wood,
Which in the light of evening sweetly sleeps.

HAMILTON.

The Old Scottish Cavalier 1.

COME, listen to another song,
Should make your heart beat high,
Bring crimson to your forehead,
And the lustre to your eye;—
It is a song of olden time,
Of days long since gone by,

And of a baron stout and bold

As e'er wore sword on thigh:

Like a brave old Scottish cavalier,

All of the olden time.

1 The hero of this spirited poem is Alexander Forbes Lord Pitsligo, whom Professor Aytoun, in his introduction to the song, calls "the best type of the Lowland cavalier of the period (1715-1760). The professor goes on to inform us that Lord Pitsligo having been educated abroad and early introduced to the circle at St. Germain's, conceived a deep personal attachment to the members of the exiled line, that he was the intimate friend of Fénélon, and throughout his whole life was remarkable rather for his piety and virtue than for keenness in political dispute. Upon the death of Queen Anne he joined himself in arms with a general insurrection of the Highlanders and Jacobites, headed by the Earl of Mar. On the dissolution of this confederacy Lord Pitsligo, with others, was compelled to fly abroad and remained in exile five or six years. He returned

He kept his castle in the north,
Hard by the thundering Spey:

And a thousand vassals dwelt around,
All of his kindred they.

And not a man of all that clan

Had ever ceased to pray

For the royal race they loved so well,
Though exiled far away

From the stedfast Scottish cavaliers,
All of the olden time.

His father drew the righteous sword
For Scotland and her claims,
Among the royal gentlemen

And chiefs of ancient names

to Scotland in 1720, and resided at his castle in Aberdeenshire, not mingling in public affairs but gaining, through his charity, kindness, and benevolence, the respect and affection of all around him. He was sixty-seven years of age when Charles Edward landed in Scotland, and after considerable hesitation he determined to put himself at the head of the Jacobite gentry of his neighbourhood. They formed a body of well-armed cavalry, gentlemen and their servants, to the number of a hundred men. When they were drawn up in readiness to commence the expedition, the venerable nobleman their leader moved to their front, lifted his hat and looking up to heaven pronounced with a solemn voice the awful appeal "O Lord, Thou knowest that our cause is just!" then added the signal for departure, "March, gentlemen!" After Culloden he became like many more a fugitive and an outlaw; but he succeeded like the Baron of Bradwardine in finding a shelter upon the skirts of his own estate. For ten years he remained concealed, and his adventures and escapes are rather more romantic and extraordinary than those of other Jacobite gentlemen. After the lapse of many years he was permitted to remain without molestation at the residence of his son, where he died in 1762, at the age of 85 The whole of Professor Aytoun's note will repay perusal.

Who swore to fight, or fall beneath
The standard of King James,
And died at Killiecrankie pass
With the glory of the Græmes;
Like a fine old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time.

He never own'd the foreign rule,
No master he obey'd,

But kept his clan in peace at home,

From foray and from raid;

And when they ask'd him for his oath,

He touch'd his glittering blade,

And pointed to his bonnet blue,

That bore the white cockade:

Like a leat old Scottish cavalier,

All of the olden time.

At length the news ran through the land— The prince had come again!

That night the fiery cross was sped

O'er mountain and through glen;

And our old baron rose in might,

Like a lion from his den,

And rode away across the hills

To Charlie and his men,

With the valiant Scottish cavaliers,

All of the olden time.

He was the first that bent the knee
When the standard waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe
On Preston's bloody sod;

And ever in the van of fight,
The foremost still he trod,
Until on bleak Culloden's heath,
He gave his soul to God,

Like a good old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time.

Oh! never shall we know again
A heart so stout and true-
The olden times have pass'd away,
And weary are the new:

The fair white rose has faded

From the garden where it grew,

And no fond tears, save those of heaven, The glorious bed bedew

Of the last old Scottish cavalier,

All of the olden time.

AYTOUN.

The Sailor's Consolation.

ONE night came on a hurricane,

The sea was mountains rolling,
When Barney Buntline slew'd his quid,
And said to Billy Bowline:
"A strong nor-wester's blowing, Bill;

Hark! don't ye hear it roar now!
Lord help 'em how I pities them
Unhappy folks on shore now.

"Fool-hardy chaps as live in towns,
What danger they are all in,
And now lie quaking in their beds,
For fear the roof should fall in!
Poor creatures, how they envies us,
And wishes, I've a notion,
For our good luck in such a storm,
To be upon the ocean!

"And as for them that's out all day,
On business from their houses,
And late at night returning home,
To cheer their babes and spouses;
While you and I, Bill, on the deck
Are comfortably lying,

My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots
About their heads are flying!

"Both you and I have oftimes heard How men are kill'd and undone,

By overturns from carriages,

By thieves, and fires in London.

We know what risks these landsmen run, From noblemen to tailors;

Then, Bill, let us thank Providence

That you and I are sailors."