What strong hands gathered thy precious treasures,
What great hearts leaped on thy craggy side!
Soft and round was the nest they plundered,
Where the brindled bee his honey hath,
The speckled bee that flies, softly humming,
From flower to flower of the lonely strath.

There thin-skinned, smooth, in clustering bunches,
With sweetest kernels as white as cream,
From branches green the sweet juice drawing,
The nuts were growing beside the stream
And the stream went dancing merrily onward,
And the ripe, red rowan was on its brim,
And gently there, in the wind of morning,
The new-leaved sapling waved soft and slim.

And all around the lovely corri

The wild-birds sat on their nests so neat, In deep, warm nooks and tufts of heather, Sheltered by knolls from the wind and sleet; And there from their beds, in the dew of the morning, Uprose the doe and the stag of ten,

And the tall cliffs gleamed, and the morning reddened The Coire Cheathaich, the Misty Glen!

Duncan Macintyre.

Colinslee.

THE LASS O' COLINSLEE.

DOWN the dark brow o' Gleniffer

Gloamin's dusky shadows fa';

Wak'nin' stars noo faintly glimmer,
Angel lichts o'er heaven's blue wa';
Fauldin' flowers their fragrance breathin',
Woodlan' birds wi' lingering glee
Seem to woo thee forth to wander,
Lovely lass o' Colinslee.

Down yon glen, whaur jinks the burnie
Blithely roun' the hazel knowe,
Smiles a neuk whaur gems o' sweetness,
Simmer's brichtest treasures grow;
Crawflowers, daisies, violets mingle
'Neath the blushin' wild rose-tree, -

Emblems o' thy peerless beauty,

Lovely lass o' Colinslee.

-

Through the sweet green birks o' Thornlie

Rustlin' zephyrs softly play;

Frac his leafy bower the mavis
Sings to rest the wearie day.
Saft as e'enin's dewy zephyrs,
Blithe as day's sweet lullaby,

Is thy witchin' voice o' gladness,
Lovely lass o' Colinslee.

Let ambition seek for pleasure,
Scalin' glory's giddy steep;
Av'rice to his worshipped treasure,
Through the mire of meanness creep;
Purer joy his hame shall brichten,
Lowly though the bield may be,
On whom thy ee of love shall lichten,
Peerless flower o' Colinslee.

Hugh Macdonald.

Coquet Water.

COQUET WATER.

HAN winter winds forget to blaw,

WHAN

An' vernal suns revive pale nature,
A shepherd lad by chance I saw,
Feeding his flocks by Coquet Water.

Saft, saft he sung, in melting lays,

His Mary's charms an' matchless feature,
While echoes answered frae the braes
That skirt the banks of Coquet Water.

"O, were that bonnie lassie mine,”

Quoth he, "in love's saft wiles I'd daut her;

An' deem mysel' as happy syne,

As landit laird on Coquet Water.

"Let wealthy rakes for pleasure roam,
In foreign lands their fortune fritter;
But love's pure joys be mine at home,
Wi' my dear lass on Coquet Water.

"Gi'e fine folks wealth, yet what care I,

Gi'e me her smiles whom I lo'e better;
Blest wi' her love an' life's calm joy,
Tending my flocks by Coquet Water.

"Flow fair an' clear, thou bonnie stream,
For on thy banks aft hae I met her;
Fair may the bonnie wild-flowers gleam,
That busk the banks of Coquet Water.

Andrew Scott.

BONNIE COQUET-SIDE.

MARY, look how sweetly spring
Revives ilk opening flower:

Here in this brake, where lintwhites sing,

I'll form a simmer bower,

Beneath whose shade, in sultry days,

We'll see the burnies glide,

And sportive lambkins deck the braes,
On bonnie Coquet-side.

At morn, I'll mark how melting shine
Thy een sae deeply blue;

Or, tempted thereby, press to mine
Thy lips o' rosy hue.

To breathe the halesome air, we'll rove
Amang the hazels wide,

And rest betimes, to speak o' love,
By bonnie Coquet-side.

The wild-rose pure, that scents the gale,
Shall grace thy bosom fair;

The violet dark, and cowslip pale,

I'll pu' to wreathe thy hair.

O'er shelving banks or wimpling streams
Thy gracefu' steps I'll guide

To spots where nature loveliest seems
On bonnie Coquet-side.

And when we view ilk furzy dale
Where hang the dews o' morn,
Ilk winding, deep, romantic vale,
Ilk snaw-white blossomed thorn,
Frae every charm I'll turn to thee,
And think my winsome bride

Mair sweet than aught that meets my ee
By bonnie Coquet-side.

Robert White.