devoted his leisure to study while weaving, he made a successful teacher, and in 1816 removed to Paisley in the same capacity. Here he became involved in the political agitations of the time; and being disgusted at the aspect of affairs at home, emigrated to the United States, where at first he taught a school. Having studied at Princeton College, he was elected minister of the Presbyterian Church of Salem; and in 1835, was appointed to the chair of Ecclesiastical History in a theological seminary. We have no further trace of him. O'ER THE MIST-SHROUDED CLIFFS. O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the gray mountain straying, Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave; What woes wring my heart, while intently surveying The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave! Ye foam-crested billows, allow me to wail, Ere ye toss me afar from my loved native shore; Where the flower which bloom'd sweetest in Colia's green vale, The pride of my bosom, my Mary's no more ! No more by the banks of the streamlet we'll wander, And smile at the moon's rimpled face in the wave; No more shall my arms cling with fondness around her, For the dew-drops of morning fall cold on her grave. No more shall the soft thrill of love warm my breast, I haste with the storm to a far-distant shore, Where, unknown, unlamented, my ashes shall rest, And joy shall revisit my bosom no more. THOMAS LYLE. 1792-1859. "KELVIN GROVE" and the air to which it is sung harmonize so well, that the latter is now known by the title of the song-the old words to which it was sung having entirely faded from popular remembrance. Thomas Lyle, the writer of the lyric,—beautiful apart from the air,—was a native of Paisley, and studied at Glasgow University. He practised as a surgeon in Glasgow for some time, and afterwards at Airth, in Stirlingshire, where he remained till 1853. "Kelvin Grove" first appeared in The Harp of Renfrewshire, where it was attributed to John Sim, but Mr Lyle's claim to its authorship was admitted by Motherwell, the editor of that collection. Lyle was a collector of old national airs and songs, and published, in 1827, a volume of Ancient Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition and Manuscript, and to this he contributed some songs of his own composition. It also contains "Miscellaneous Poems by Sir William Mure, Knight of Rowallan." In 1853 he returned to Glasgow, and here he died in 1859. KELVIN GROVE. Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O, Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie Where the rose in all her pride, Yet with fortune on my side, I could stay thy father's pride, And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O. But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O, Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie | On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O, lassie, O. Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O; O, Where the glens rebound the call O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O, There, the May-pink's crimson Throws a soft but sweet perfume Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O. Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O, Ere the golden orb of day Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O, To the fragrant scented brier, When upon a foregin shore, bonnie lassie, O, Should I fall midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O, Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear As the smile of fortune's thine, bonnie To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, lassie, O, O. WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 1797-1835. EXCEPT for "Jeannie Morrison," | and elegant sentimental poems want that Motherwell would almost have been forgotten as a poet; and yet few writers gave evidence of possessing the divine faculty earlier, or displayed greater taste and grace in the art of poetic composition. His finished, vigorous, definite grasp on human interest that makes even rough poetry impressive. His highly cultivated and natural literary abilities, fitted him better for excelling as an editor, and it is in this capacity that he has been most successful. He was the son of Mr William Motherwell, an ironmonger in Glasgow, and was born in that city in 1797. His family removing to Edinburgh, he became a pupil of the High School; but in his eleventh year he went to live with an uncle in Paisley, and he finished his education at the grammar-school of that town, with the exception of a session, when he attended Greek and Latin classes in Glasgow University. In In He served some time in the SheriffClerk's office in Paisley, and soon after received the appointment of Sheriffclerk Depute of Renfrewshire. 1819, he became editor of The Harp of Renfrewshire, a poetical miscellany, and in 1827, published his best-known book, Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern, the historical introduction to which displayed an extensive acquaintance with the subject, and great critical taste and discernment. In 1828, he started the Paisley Magazine, which did not live beyond its first volume. He at the same time edited the Paisley Advertiser, a weekly conservative newspaper. 1830, he became editor of the Glasgow Courier, and continued in charge of it till his death in 1835. He published an elegant collection of his poems, entitled, Poems, Narrative and Lyrical, in 1832; and an enlarged edition, with a memoir, was published soon after his death. He has two marked stylesthe homely pathetic sentimental, where he employs Scotch; and the chivalrous imaginative sentimental, which he writes in pure English, or affected antique. "Jeannie Morrison" is his best in the former, and "The Cavalier's Song" is a fair specimen of the latter style. JEANIE MORRISON. I've wandered east, I've wandered west, The luve o' life's young day! O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The blithe blinks o' langsyne. 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'Twas then we twa did part; Sweet time-sad time! twa bairns at scule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart! 'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink, To leir ilk ither lear; And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, Remembered evermair. I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet, When sitting on that bink, Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, What our wee heads could think? When baith bent doun ower ae braid page, Wi' ae buik on our knee, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, How cheeks brent red wi' shame, Whene'er the scule-weans laughin' said, We cleek'd thegither hame? And mind ye o' the Saturdays, (The scule then skail't at noon), When we ran aff to speel the braesThe broomy braes o' June? My head rins round and round about, Oh, mornin' life! oh, mornin' luve ! Oh lichtsome days and lang, To wander by the green burnside, The simmer leaves hung ower our head, Concerted harmonies; And on the knowe abune the burn, Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled-unsung! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, Oh! tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine; Oh! say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi' dreamings o' langsyne? I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart, And channels deeper as it rins, O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, But I could hug all wretchedness, And happy could I dee, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed O' bygane days and me! THE CAVALIER'S SONG. All else to noble heartes is drosse, Be soundes from heaven that come; And oh! the thundering presse of knightes Whenas their war cryes swell, May tole from heaven an angel bright, Then mounte, then mounte, brave gallants, all, And don your helemes amaine : Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honour, call Us to the field againe. No shrewish tears shall fill our eye When the sword-hilt's in our handHeart whole we'll part, and no whit sighe For the fayrest of the land; Let piping swaine, and craven wight, JAMES HIS LOP. 1798-1827. teaching. In 1827, he again went to heightened by a skilful use of the poetical incidents of the scenery, yet it is so moderate in tone that it might enlist the sympathies of a cavalier. JAMES HISLOP, the author of the "Cameronian's Dream," was born in July 1798, in the parish of Kirkconnel, in Dumfriesshire. So humble were the circumstances of his parents that until his thirteenth year, when he was sent for a twelvemonth to school, he taught himself to read, with the assistance of his grandfather, a country weaver, while he was employed as a cow-herd. In his fourteenth year he became a shepherd in the neighbourhood of Airsmoss, the scene of the death of Richard Cameron, in 1680, and here he culti-stirring associations of the locality, vated his mind by study so as to be a a fair classical scholar. He not only drank at the spring of knowledge himself, but he opened an evening class, in which he taught his rustic associates. In 1819, he tried teaching in Greenock, but, like Jean Adam, found it an uncongenial soil, and he removed to Edinburgh, having in 1821 contributed to the Edinburgh Magazine "The Cameronian's Dream." Through Lord Jeffrey, he obtained the appointment of schoolmaster on board the Doris man-of-war, with which he started for South America. At the end of the cruise he published his observations in the Edinburgh Magazine. In 1825, he went to London, where he made the acquaintance of Allan Cunningham, Edward Irving, and Joanna Baillie, and tried to report for the press; but finding the work unsuitable, gave it up, and resumed THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM. In a dream of the night I was wafted away, To the muirland of mist where the martyrs lay; Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen, Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green. 'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, When the minister's home was the moun tain and wood; When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion, All bloody and torn 'mong the heather was lying. |