The sweet enchantin' theme shall be, Her braid an' lang extended vales Are clad wi' corn, a' wavin' yellow; Her waters pastime sweet afford To ane an' a' wha like to angle; In ilka town an' village gay, Hark! Thrift her wheel an' loom are usin'; See wealthy Commerce briskly cruisin'. Her maids are frugal, modest, fair, Whase heart wi' virt'ous love is glowin'. In peace, her sons like lammies mild, May auld an' young ha'e meat an' claes; An' may the sun to latest days See Fife an' a' her bairnies canty. Fife, an' a' the land about it, May health an' peace an' plenty glad Alexander Douglas. MAGGIE LAUDER. HA wadna be in love WHA Wï' bonnie Maggie Lauder? A piper met her gaun to Fife, And speired what was 't they ca'd her. Right scornfully she answered him, 'Begone, you hallanshaker! Jog on your gate, you bladderskate ! "Maggie," quo' he, "and by my bags, "Piper," quo' Meg, "hae ye your bags, If ye be Rob, I've heard of you, Hae heard o' Rob the Ranter; I'll shake my foot with right gude-will, Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, "Weel done!" quo' he. “Play up!” quo' she. 'Weel bobbed," quo' Rob the Ranter; ""T is worth my while to play indeed When I hae sic a dancer." "Weel hae you played your part,” quo' Meg; I've lived in Fife, baith maid and wife, Gin' ye should come to Anster Fair, Speir ye for Maggie Lauder." Francis Semple. MAGGIE LAUDER. THESE stanzas are an appropriate addition to the well-known song of "Maggie Lauder," composed by Francis Semple, about 1660. THE cantie Spring scarce reared her head, And Winter yet did blaud her, When the Ranter came to Anster Fair, And speired for Maggie Lauder; Wi' canty ingle, clean hearthstane, Meg welcomed Rob the Ranter! Then Rob made bonnie Meg his bride, He played the auld East Nook o' Fife," That Hab himsel' ne'er played a spring, For he made Anster town to ring, - For a' the talk and loud reports And since the marriage-knot was tied, For he loves Maggie as his life, And Meg loves Rob the Ranter. Charles Gray. BUTO Forth, the River. THE FORTH. where the Forth's broad river sweeps the plain, Moving to wed, fair stream, the eastern main, Yet nobler scenes unfold, a crowded port, Where Commerce, sire of empire, holds his court; The dark blue Frith, where many a whitened sail Here gray with rocks, there softening into green ; Anonymous. Foyers (Fyers), the River. VERSES WRITTEN WHILE STANDING BY THE FALL OF FYERS, NEAR LOCH NESS. AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods The foaming Fyers pours his mossy floods; Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds, Where, through a shapeless breach, his stream resounds. As high in air the bursting torrents flow, As deep recoiling surges foam below; Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends, |