Friends of my youth I shall love you for ever-- Closer and firmer ye twine round my heart; Though now the wide sea our lot may dissever, Affection and friendship can never depart.

Land of my fathers, I leave thee in sadness-- Dear to my heart thou shalt ever remain!

Oh, when shall I gaze on those bright scenes of gladness?

When shall I visit my country again?

THE STREAM OF LIFE.

Down by a crystal stream Musing I stray'd, As 'neath the summer beam Lightly it play'd, Winding by field and fen, Mountain and meadow, then Stealing through wood and glen, Soft'ning the shade.

Thus, then, methought, is life; Onward it flows-- Now mingling peace with strife, Toil with repose-- Now sparkling joyously Under the glare of day, Drinking each sunny ray, Purely it flows.

Now gliding peacefully, Calm and serene, Smoothly it takes its way, Softly I ween Murmur its waters past-- Oh, will that stillness last?

See, rocks are nearing fast, Changing the scene.

Wildly it dashes now, Loudly it roars, Over the craggy brow Fiercely it pours.

All in commotion lost, Wave over wave is toss'd; Spray, white as winter's frost, Up from it soars.

Yet where the conflict 's worst Brightest it gleams; Rays long in silence nursed Shoot forth in streams: Beauties before unknown Out from its breast are thrown; Light, like a golden zone, Brilliantly beams.

Thus in the Christian's breast Pure faith may lie, Hid in the day of rest Deep from the eye; But when life's shadows lower Faith lights the darkest hour, Driving, by heavenly power, Gloom from the sky.

DAY-DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS.

There are moments when my spirit wanders back to other years, And time long, long departed, like the present still appears; And I revel in the sunshine of those happy, happy hours, When the sky of youth was cloudless, and its path was strewn with flowers.

O those days of dreamy sweetness! O those visions of delight!

Weaving garlands for the future, making all of earth too bright; They come creeping through my memory like messengers of peace, Telling tales of bygone blessings, bidding present sorrows cease.

Long-lost friends are gath'ring round me, smiling faces, gentle forms, All unconscious of earth's struggles, all unmindful of its storms-- Beaming radiantly and beautiful, as in the days of youth, When friendship was no mockery, when every thought was truth.

Joy, illuming every bosom, made fair nature fairer still-- Mirth sported on each summer breeze, and sung in every rill; Beauty gleaming all around us, bright as dreams of fairy land-- Oh, faded now that l.u.s.tre, scatter'd far that happy band!

Now deeply traced with sorrow is the once unclouded brow, And eyes that sparkled joyously are dim with weeping now; We are tasting life in earnest--all its vain illusions gone-- And the stars that glisten'd o'er our path are falling one by one.

Some are sleeping with their kindred--summer blossoms o'er them wave; Some, lonely and unfriended, with the stranger found a grave; While others now are wand'ring on a far and foreign sh.o.r.e, And that happy, loving company shall meet--ah! never more.

But afar in mem'ry's garden, like a consecrated spot, The heart's first hopes are hidden, and can never be forgot; And the light that cheer'd us onward, in our airy early days-- Oft we linger in the distance to look back upon its rays.

Old Time, with hand relentless, may shed ruins o'er the earth, May strew our path with sorrow, make a desert of our hearth-- Change may blight our fairest blossoms, shroud our clearest light in gloom; But the flow'ry fields of early years shall never lose their bloom.

AFFECTION'S FAITH.

Away on the breast of the ocean, Far away o'er the billowy brine, 'Mid the strife of the boiling commotion, Where the storm and the tempest combine, Roams my heart, of its wand'ring ne'er weary; While Hope, with her heavenly smile, Cheers the bosom that else would be dreary, And points me to blessings the while.

Of the far-hidden future still dreaming, On the wild wings of fancy I fly, And the star of affection, bright beaming, Is piercing the gloom of our sky; And my home is away o'er the ocean, Afar o'er the wide swelling sea, Where a heart, in its purest devotion, Is breathing fond blessings on me.

GEORGE DONALD, JUN.

George Donald the younger was born on the 1st of March 1826, at Thornliebank, near Glasgow. His father, George Donald the elder, is noticed in an earlier part of the present volume. Sent to labour in a calico print-work in his tenth year, his education was chiefly obtained at evening schools, and afterwards by self-application during the intervals of toil. In his seventeenth year he became apprenticed to a pattern-designer, and having fulfilled his indenture, he has since prosecuted this occupation. From his youth a writer of verses, he has contributed poetical compositions to the Glasgow _Examiner_ and _Citizen_ newspapers.

OUR AIN GREEN SHAW.

They tell me o' a land whar the sky is ever clear, Whar rivers row ower gowden sands, and flower unfading blaw, But, oh! nae joys o' nature to me are half sae dear As the flow'rets springing wild in our ain green shaw.

They speak o' gilded palaces, o' lords and leddies fair, And scenes that charm the weary heart in cities far awa'; But nane o' a' their gaudy shows and pleasures can compare Wi' the happiness that dwells in our ain green shaw.

Oh weel I lo'e when summer comes wi' sunny days an' glee, And brings to gladden ilka heart her rural pleasures a', When on the thorn the mavis sings and gowans deck the lea,-- Oh, then nae spot 's sae bonnie as our ain green shaw.

While Heaven supplies each simple want and leaves me still my cot, I'll bear through life a cheerfu' heart whatever may befa', Nor envy ither's joys, but aye be happy wi' my lot When wand'ring in the e'enin' through our ain green shaw.

ELIZA.

In her chamber, vigil keeping, Fair Eliza sitteth weeping, Weeping for her lover slain: Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden, Once a joyous-hearted maiden Till her William cross'd the main.

Fatal day that saw them parted!

For it left her lonely-hearted-- Her so full of joy before-- Brought to her the thought of sadness, Clouding her young spirit's gladness, That she ne'er might see him more!

Sad Eliza, no blest morrow Will dispel thy secret sorrow, Bring thine own true love again.

Mournful is thy William's story: On the field of martial glory, Fighting bravely, he was slain!

Now the silent stars above her Seem to tell her of her lover, For each night, with pensive gaze On the blue vault shining o'er her, Sits Eliza, while before her Fleet the scenes of other days.

Thus her lonely vigil keeping, Fair Eliza sitteth weeping, Weeping for her lover slain: Fair Eliza, sorrow-laden, Once a joyous-hearted maiden Till her William cross'd the main.