"By Tweed's fair banks my father liv'd, Two blooming sons had he,

And yet the hoary man surviv'd

To bless his progeny.

"But ah! the eldest youth was blind

To every social tie,

And by his deeds of hate unkind,

Caus'd many a bitter sigh.

"I was the youngest hope; alas !

That I have liv'd so long;

To see good Albert's glories pass,

And swell some doleful song."

The chieftain's cheek here chang'd to pale,

And frenzy turn'd his look,

And, starting at the wond'rous tale,

Thus quick the minstrel spoke.

"A lovely maid possess'd my soul,
Ah! would that soul was gone,
Beneath a brother's stern control
It heav'd full many a groan.

"He sent me to a foreign land,
He dealt my dole of woe,

He robb'd my true-love's plighted hand,

And still my tears must flow.

"Yet, yet, though nearest to my blood, A villain's name I hate,

Still I remember yonder wood,

Where he has fix'd my fate."

"Enough!" the frighted chief reply'd,

"Thou raven to my doom!

Oh! here's my sword, with slaughter dy'd,
To bid thee welcome home.

"Inhuman murd'rer! who am I?"

He cast his garb aside,

And drew from off his martial thigh
The sword with slaughter dy'd.

"Thus take thy due, yet hold my hand,
Nor seek a brother's blood."

Awoke by Pity's mild command,

The mild'ned minstrel stood.

He clasp'd the fair one's trembling arm,

And show'd her Edmund's face:

"Ah! whence," cried she, "this mystic charm! Ah! whence this lov'd embrace!

"Art thou my

Edmund? tell me true;

Art thou so kindly giv❜n,

To make thy murd'rous rival rue,

To cleanse my soul for Heav'n?"

Depress'd, the elder chieftain sigh'd,

And curs'd o'erruling hate,

Then kiss'd with cordial lip the bride,
Then bless'd the turns of fate.

CHEERFULNESS.

EUPHROSYNE, ecstatic guest,

What sunny shrine, what favour'd breast,
Wilt thou resume? O! wilt thou deign
To bless the unaspiring swain,

Or, o'er the front of greatness pour
Thy joyous thoughts, a radiant show'r?
Say, wilt thou gild the ev'ning shade,
The artless bow'r of sylvan maid ?
Wilt thou her rosy lip perfume,
Her eye's resistless glance illume;
Her purple cheek with livelier hues
Invest, their brightness ne'er to lose?
Or, like the rest of Fortune's train,
For gorgeous court desert the plain,
Glad the proud beauty's smile to grace,
And revel on her foreign face?

No follower thou of Fortune's crew:
Delightful nymph! full oft 1 view
Thy vivid influence kindly spread
O'er the low cot and tott'ring shed:
Then come, my bright, my best reward,
And make thy son the happiest bard ;
And smiling lead along with thee,
Humour quaint, and Jollity;

And gay Romance, who loves to rove
Fantasy's elysian grove;

And sparkling Wit, and Angel-youth,
His diamond arrows tip'd with truth,
His godlike hair, of braided rays,
His vest, a meteoric blaze;

Come these along, while Envy gaunt,
(Her eyeballs impotent to daunt)
And Malice, snarling, scowl aloof,
Fell tigers! while of temper-proof,
Thy starry target bids retire

Their gall'd shafts, pointed fierce with ire.
How blest my humble cottage then,

A snug retreat from worldly men ;

My blooming flow'rs, my cooling trees,
My arbours consecrate to ease;
My fruitage ripe, my meadows fine,

My bowls for ever crown'd with wine;

Pure Friendship seated by my hearth,
And silver-tressed, ancient Mirth ;
And frolic Love, unforc'd, and yet
Not quite approaching to coquette;
My servants happy as could be,
What troubles then would frighten me?

MELANCHOLY.

"TIS night-and this the silent hour When Melancholy seeks her bow'r Of sablest yew, embrowned deep, To fold her drooping arms, and weep. Sad syren stay! intrusive maid! And I will follow to the glade, And join my dirge of woe with thine; And statue-fixt, at Horror's shrine, My dark, nocturnal pray'rs rehearse In cadence low of saddest verse; Verse, such as once Medea pay'd To the drear habitants of shade; Verse, such as fits the leaden ear Of listless, gorgon-ey'd Despair!