THE BOWER O' CLYDE.

On fair Clydeside thair wonnit ane dame, Ane dame of wondrous courtesie, An' bonny was the kindly flame That stremit frae her saft blue e'e.

Her saft blue e'e, 'mid the hinney dew, That melt.i.t to its tender licht, Was bonnier far than the purest starre That sails thro' the dark blue hevin at nicht.

If ony culd luke and safely see Her dimplit cheek, and her bonny red mou, Nor seek to sip the dew frae her lip, A lifeless lump was he, I trow.

But it wuld haif saften'd the dullest wicht, If ae moment that wicht might see Her bonny breast o' the purest snaw, That heavit wi' luve sae tenderlie.

An' dear, dear was this bonny dame, Dear, dear was she to me, An' my heart was tane, an' my sense was gane, At ae blink o' her bonny blue e'e.

An' sair an' saft I pleadit my luve, Tho' still she hardly wuld seem to hear, An' wuld cauldly blame the words o' flame That I breathit so warmly in her ear.

Yet aye as she turn'd her frae my look, Thair was kindness beamit in her e'e, An' aye as she drew back her lily han', I faund that it tremblit tenderlie.

But the time sune cam, the waesome time, When I maun awa frae my dear, An' oh! that thocht, how aften it brocht The deep-heavit sigh an' the cauld bitter tear!

Then socht I my luve, her cauld heart to muve, Wi' my tears, an' my sighs, an' my prayers, An' I gaed by her side doun the banks o' the Clyde, An' the hours stal awa unawares.

'Twas a still summer nicht, at the fa'ing o' licht, At the gloamin's saft an' schadowie hour, An' we wander'd alane till the daylicht was gane, An' we cam' to a sweet simmer bour.

The mune was up i' the clear blue skye, The mune an' her single wee starre, The winds gaed gently whisperin' bye, Thair was stillness near an' farre.

Alane we sat i' the green summer bour, I tauld her a' that was kind and dear, An' she did na blame the words o' flame That I breathit sae warmly in her ear.

She listenit to the luve-sang warm, Her breast it throbbit and heavit high; She culd hear nae mair, but her gentill arm She lean't upon mine, wi' a tender sigh.

Then warmly I prest wi' my burning lips, Ae kiss on her bonny red mow, An' aften I prest her form to my breast, An' fondly an' warmly I vowit to be true.

An' oh! that hour, that hallowit hour, My fond heart will never forget; Though drear is the dule I haif suffer'd sin syne, That hour gars my heart beat warmly yet.

The parting time cam, an' the parting time past, An' it past nae without the saut tear, An' awa' to anither an' farre awa' land I gaed, an' I left my ain dear.

I gaed, an' though ither and brichter maids Wuld smile wi' fond luve i' their e'e, I but thocht o' the sweet green hour by the Clyde, An' that thocht was enough for me.

MARY.

Oh! Mary, while thy gentle cheek Is on my breast reclining, And while these arms around thy form Are fondly thus entwining; It seems as if no earthly power Our beating hearts could sever, And that in ecstasy of bliss We thus could hang for ever!

Yet ah! too well, too well we know, The fiat fate hath spoken-- The spell that bound our souls in one, The world's cold breath hath broken.

The hours--the days--whose heavenly light Hath beam'd in beauty o'er us, When Love his sunshine shed around, And strew'd his flowers before us,

Must now be but as golden dreams, Whose loveliness hath perish'd; Wild dreams of hope, in human hearts Too heavenly to be cherish'd.

Yet, oh! where'er our lot is cast, The love that once hath bound us-- The thought that looks to days long past, Will breathe a halo round us.

IN DISTANT YEARS.

In distant years! when other arms Around thy form are prest, Oh! heave one fond regretful sigh For him thy love once blest!

Oh! drop one tear from that dark eye, That was his guiding light, And cast the same deep tender glance, That thrills his soul to-night.

And oh! believe, though dark his fate, And devious his career, The music of that gentle voice Will tremble in his ear; And breathing o'er his troubled soul, Storm-tost and tempest riven, Will still fierce pa.s.sion's wild control, And win him back to Heaven.

ROBERT CHAMBERS.

Robert Chambers, well known for his connexion with the publishing house of W. & R. Chambers, Edinburgh, and as the author of several meritorious works of a national character, was born in 1802 at Peebles, where his parents occupied a respectable position. Robert was the second of a family of six children, his elder brother William being about two years his senior. In consequence of misfortunes in business, James Chambers, the father of these youths, found it desirable to remove to Edinburgh with his family in 1813. While still in childhood Robert manifested a remarkable apt.i.tude for learning, as well as a taste for music and poetry--a taste inherited from his father, who was a good performer on several instruments, and possessed a taste for both literature and science. Before completing his twelfth year, he had pa.s.sed through a complete cla.s.sical course at the grammar school of his native burgh, had perused no small portion of the books within his reach including those of a circulating library, and mastered much of the general information contained in a copy of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica," of which his father possessed a copy of the then latest edition. Left very much to their own resources, William became an apprentice to a bookseller in 1814; and Robert, at the age of sixteen, threw himself on the world, as a dealer in old books, a step in accordance with his natural tastes, and which proved fortunate. How the two lads struggled on obscurely, but always improving their circ.u.mstances; how they were cheered onward by the counsels of their widowed mother; how they finally went into partnership for the purpose of prosecuting literary undertakings--need not here be detailed. Robert, in 1822-3, began to write the "Traditions of Edinburgh," which first brought him prominently into notice. This amusing work was followed by the "Popular Rhymes of Scotland." Next came his "Picture of Scotland," an interesting topographical work in two volumes; "Histories of the Scottish Rebellions;" three volumes of "Scottish Ballads and Songs;" and "Biography of Distinguished Scotsmen,"

in four volumes. Besides various popular works, he produced, for private circulation, a volume of poetical pieces, distinguished for their fine taste and feeling. William having started _Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_ in February 1832, Robert became an efficient coadjutor, and mainly helped to give the work its extensive popularity. In the more early volumes, in particular, there appear many admirable essays, humorous and pathetic, from his pen. Besides these professional avocations, Mr Robert Chambers takes part in the proceedings of the scientific and other learned bodies in Edinburgh. Among his latest detached works is a volume, of a geological character, on the "Ancient Sea Margins of Scotland;" also, "Tracings of Iceland," the result of a visit to that interesting island in the summer of 1855. Living respected in Edinburgh, in the bosom of his family, and essentially a self-made man, Mr Robert Chambers is peculiarly distinguished for his kindly disposition and un.o.btrusive manners--for his enlightened love of country, and diligence in professional labours, uniting, in a singularly happy manner, the man of refined literary taste with the man of business and the useful citizen.

YOUNG RANDAL.

TUNE--_'There grows a bonnie brier bush.'_

Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa', Young Randal was a bonnie lad when he gaed awa', 'Twas in the sixteen hundred year o' grace and thritty-twa, That Randal, the laird's youngest son, gaed awa'.

It was to seek his fortune in the High Germanie, To fecht the foreign loons in the High Germanie, That he left his father's tower o' sweet Willanslee, And monie mae friends in the North Countrie.

He left his mother in her bower, his father in the ha', His brother at the outer yett, but and his sisters twa', And his bonnie cousin Jean, that look'd owre the castle wa', And, mair than a' the lave, loot the tears down fa'.

"Oh, whan will ye be back," sae kindly did she speir, "Oh, whan will ye be back, my hinny and my dear?"

"Whenever I can win eneuch o' Spanish gear, To dress ye out in pearlins and silks, my dear."

Oh, Randal's hair was coal-black when he gaed awa'-- Oh, Randal's cheeks were roses red when he gaed awa', And in his bonnie e'e, a spark glint.i.t high, Like the merrie, merrie look in the morning sky.

Oh, Randal was an altert man whan he came hame-- A sair altert man was he when he came hame; Wi' a ribbon at his breast, and a Sir at his name-- And gray, gray cheeks did Randal come hame.

He licht.i.t at the outer yett, and rispit with the ring, And down came a ladye to see him come in, And after the ladye came bairns feifteen: "Can this muckle wife be my true love Jean?"

"Whatna stoure carl is this," quo' the dame, "Sae gruff and sae grand, and sae f.e.c.kless and sae lame?"

"Oh, tell me, fair madam, are ye bonnie Jeanie Graham?"

"In troth," quo' the ladye, "sweet sir, the very same."

He turned him about wi' a waefu' e'e, And a heart as sair as sair could be; He lap on his horse, and awa' did wildly flee, And never mair came back to sweet Willanslee.