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When in cold oblivion's shade
"H! why dost thou shiver and shake.
“'T is the weather that 's cold,
'Tis I 'm grown very old, And my doublet is not very new,
“ Then line that warm doublet with ale,
“Nay, but credit I've none,
And my money 's all gone;
“Hie away to the house on the brow,
“The priest often preaches
Against worldly riches,
“ The lav'yer lives under the hill,
“He will fasten his locks,
And will threaten the stocks,
Should he evermore find me in want.
*The squire has fat beeves and brown ale,
“His fat beeves and his beer,
And his merry new year,
“My keg is but low, I confess,
“The poor man alone,
When he hears the poor moan,
Tuhat Constitutes a State.
What constitutes a state ?
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Not starred and spangled courts,
No:—men, high-minded men,
In forest, brake, or den,
Men who their duties know,
Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain;
These constitute a state;
O'er thrones and globes elate
Smit by her sacred frown,
And e'en the all-dazzling crown
Such was this heaven-loved isle,
No more shall freedom smile?
Since all inust life resign,
'Tis folly to decline,
Sir William JONES
To the Cuckoo.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of Spring!
And woods thy welcome sing.
Soon as the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear.
Or mark the rolling year ?
Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flowers,
From birds among the bowers.
To pull the primrose gay,
Startx, thy mout curio:lk soire to hear,
And imitate thy lay.
What time the prea puts on the bloom,
Thou fliext thy socal sale,
Another spring to hail.
Sweet bird! thy bower is erer green,
Thy xky is ever clear;
No winter in thy year!
Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Auld Robin Gray.
When the sheep are in the fauld, and a' the kye at hame,
Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride,
He had nae been gane a year and a day,
My faither could na wark, my mither could na spin,
My heart it said nay, for I look'd for Jamie back,
My faither urged me sair, my mither did na speak,
I had na been a wife a week but only four,
Sair, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say,-
I gang like a ghaist, but I care not to spin;
LADY ANNE BARNARD.
Tae moon had climbed the highest hill
Which rises o'er the source of Dee,
Her silver light on tower and tree,