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No longer seek him east or west,

And search no more the forest thorough; For, wandering in the night so dark,

He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.

“ The tear shall never leave my cheek,

No other youth shall be my marrow; I'll seek thy body in the stream,

And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.". The tear did never leave her cheek,

No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream,

And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.

CXCVII.

THE CYPRESS AND THE YEW.

0 I hae twin'd wi' mickle love,

A garland for ye're brow,
But wither'd are its sweetest flowers,

And broken is ye're vow:

Syne I will tak’ the cypress wreath,

And weave it wi' the yew.

The gladsome hours of love are gone,

I wist na ere they sped,
The lily pale has stain'd my cheek,

Tint is the damask red;
The cypress shall my chaplet be

To bind around my head,

O why does love sae sweetly smile,

And gayest flow'rets strew?
O why does love, the fairest flower,

Still twine about with rue ?
The rue was thine-but aye is mine,

The Cypress and the Yew.

CXCVIII.

CARLISLE YETTS".

White was the rose in his gay bonnet,

As he faulded me in his brooched plaidie;

* This little picce, no less enchanting by the sweetness and simplicity of its styis, than by the richness of its poetical beauties, is said to have been written

His hand whilk clasped the truth o' love,

O it was aye in battle readie !
His lang lang hair in yellow hanks,

Wav'd o'er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie;
But now they wave o'er Carlisle Yetts

In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie.

My father's blood's in that flower-tap,

My brother's in that hare-bell's blossom,
This white rose was steeped in my luve's blood,
And I'll aye wear it in my bosom.

* *

by a young woman, during the rebellion of 1745. Whether the individual, who is the subject of the piece before us, bore any rank in the Highland ariny is uncertain : but it would appear, that, on account of his attachment to the cause of Prince Charles, he had fallen a victim to the san sures of the times, when the blood of the vanquished was considered as the only atonement that could be made. Certain it is, that the measures pursueil by the English army, after their decisive victory at Cuiloden, were by 10 means calculated to soothe the iritation, and win the affections of a brave and generous people. The Duke of Cumberland, after marching the main body of his army to Fort Augustus, sent parties of his men round the lands, which, wherever they came, plurdered the peaceable inhabitants, and drove off their cattle, whilst thousands of families perished either by famine or the sword. Neither old nor young, rich vor poor, were exempted from the brutal ferocity of the English soldiery, who put to death, in colu blood, incredible numbers of a people whom they would, in all probability, have trembled to meet on equal terms on the field. Even the presence of the Com. mander in Chief had no effect in putting a stop to the slaughter; for, whilst his men were engaged in those scenes of horror, he was amusing himself and his staff, with horse and foot races! Throughout the whole country, the greatest exertions were made to apprehend the followers of Charles, who himself, was closely pursued through the Highlands. Of two hundred and nineteen per sons who were tried, seventy-seven were executed ; among whom were se venteen officers, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered on Kensington Counmon, near London ; nine executed in the same manner at Carlisle, and eleven When I came first by merry Carlisle,

Was ne'er a town sae sweetly seeming; The White Rose flaunted owre the wall,

The Thistl'd banners far were streaming! When I came next by merry Carlisle,

O sad, sad seem'd the town and eerie ! The auld, auld men came out and wept,

“ O maiden, come ye to seek ye're dearie ?"

*

There's ae drap o' blude atween my breasts,

And twa in my links o' hair sae yellow ; The tane I'll ne'er wash, and the tither ne'er kame,

But I'll sit and pray aneath the willow.

at York. It may not be uninteresting to our readers, to state, respecting Prince Charles, that, after many sufferings, lie escaped into France, where he remained some considerable time, Being, however, eventually obliged to quit that country, he retired into Italy, when, becoming disgusted with the ceremonies of the Romish religion, he came over to London, and renounced it in a Chapel, in Gray’s-Inn Lane, under his own name of Charles Stuart. What is somewhat remarkable, he came over again to London in 1760 to witness the coronation of his present Majesty, after which he returned to Italy, and went to Rome on the death of his father in 1766, when the Pope refuseçi to acknowledge him King. Besides, none of the Catholic Courts would listen to his claim, and in consequence he refused that of Prince of Wales, and assumed the title of Count of Albany. In 1772 he married the Princess Louisa Maximiliana Carolina de Stolberg Guederan, by whom he had no issue. From that period he resided in the neighbourhood of Florence till his death, on the 31st Jan. 1788, (aged 67) when it was found that he had bequeathed his fortune to a natural daughter, the Duchess of Albany, whom he legitimated by the approbation of the King of France. To his brother, the Cardinal York, he left two thousand ounces of silver. The Cardinal died a few

years ago, being the last of the male line of an illustrious, but unfortu. te house.

Wae, wae upon that cruel heart,

Wae, wae upon that hand sae bloodie, Whilk feasts in our richest Scottish blude,

And maks sae mony a dolefu' widow.

СХСІХ.

THE MURNYNG MAYDEN.

May heaven holpe the Mayde,
Whome false love hathe betraydde,

Sith the worlde has ne pitye but scorne
For the mayden who may,
Have wandredde astraye,

And with love, griefe and wodenesse * is torne.

In the goode grene woodde,
A whyte thorne tree stoodde,

And scentedde the duske valley arounde,
And there was a river,
Thilk murmuredde ever,

With right plcasaunt and silverye sounde.

* Madness.

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