hat tell of glorious deeds
That made auld Scotland free.
What though they sprung frae simple bards,
Wha kent nae rules of art?
They ever, ever yield a charm
That lingers round the heart.

MY LADDIE LIES LOW.

Alas! how true the boding voice
That whisper'd aft to me,
"Thy bonnie lad will ne'er return
To Scotland or to thee!"
Oh! true it spoke, though hope the while
Shed forth its brightest beam;
For low in death my laddie lies
By Alma's bloody stream.

I heard the village bells proclaim
That glorious deeds were done;
I heard wi' joy the gladsome shout,
"The field, the field is won!"
And I thought my lad, wi' glory crown'd,
Might come to me again;
But vain the thought! cold, cold he lies
On Alma's gory plain.

Oh! woe to him whose thirst for power
Has roll'd the bolts of war,
And made my laddie bleed and die
Frae hame and friends afar.
Alas! his form I ne'er shall see,
Except in fancy's dream;
For low he lies, where brave he fought,
By Alma's bloody stream.

JOUK AND LET THE JAW GAE BY.

AIR--_"Jockie's Gray Breeks."_

Oh! say not life is ever drear,
For midst its scenes of toil and care
There 's aye some joy the heart to cheer--
There 's aye some spot that 's green and fair.
To gain that spot the aim be ours,
For nocht we 'll get unless we try;
And when misfortune round us lours,
We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by.

The wee bit flow'ret in the glen
Maun bend beneath the surly blast;
The birdie seeks some leafy den,
And shelters till the storm is past:
The "owrie sheep," when winds blaw snell,
To some lowne spot for refuge hie;
And sae, frae ills we canna quell,
We 'll jouk and let the jaw gae by.

Yet there are ills we a' should brave--
The ills that man on man would throw;
For oh! he 's but a thowless slave,
That patient bears Oppression's woe.
But if 'tis but the taunts of pride,
Of envy's tongue that would annoy,
'Tis nobler far to turn aside,
And jouk and let the jaw gae by.

In worldly gear we may be bare,
We may hae mony a dreary hour;
But never, never nurse despair,
For ilka ane maun taste the sour:
Even kings themsels, wi' a' their power,
Wi' a' their pomp and honours high