Alack for the lane auld man!

The weel lo'ed form o' his ain auld wife,
Wha sooth'd the cares o' a lang bleak life,
Has gane to rest wi' her weans frae strife,
An' heeds na her lane auld man.

Owre the turf on their breast he lo'ed to weep,
And sair he lang'd wi' the lost to meet,
Till death did close, in his ain calm sleep,
The een o' the lane auld man.

Whar yew-trees bend owre the dark kirk-yard,
An' gowans peep frae the lang green-sward,
The moss-clad stanes o' the cauld grave guard
The last o' the lane auld man.

THE WANDERER'S RETURN.

Shadows of glory the twilight is parting,
The day-star is seeking its home in the west,
The herd from the field to the fold is departing,
As, Lochwinnoch, sad on thy summits I rest.
And far o'er the scene, while the evening is veiling
Thy waters that spread their still breast on the lea,
On his broad truant wing the lone heron is sailing,
To rest with his mate by the rock on the sea.

But, houseless and homeless, around thee I wander,
The faces are gone I have panted to see,
And cold is the hearth to the feet of the stranger,
Which once had a seat in its circle for me.
Here youth's golden hours of my being were number'd,
When joy in my bosom was breathing its lay;
If care on the light of my happiness linger'd,
Hope hasted the heartless intruder away.

Then sweetly the brow of the beaming-eyed future
Was smiling my welcome to life's rosy way,
And fondly I sigh'd in her Eden to meet her,
And bask in the bowers where her happiness lay.
While fancy on light airy pinion was mounting,
I strain'd my young vision in rapture to see
The land of my dreams, with its love-mirror'd fountains,
And breath'd in the balm of the south's sunny sea.

Then, far on the track of ambition, I follow'd
The footsteps of fortune through perilous climes,
And trod the bright scenes which my childhood had hallow'd
But found not the charms which fond fancy enshrines.
The gold I have won, can it purchase the treasure
Of hearts' warm affections left bleeding behind,
Restore me the ties which are parted for ever,
And gild the dark gloom of my desolate mind?

The gold I have won! but, unblest and beguiling,
It came like the sun when un