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THE COVENANTER’S LAMENT FOR BOTHWELL BRIGG.

  The men of sin prevail! 
    Once more the prince of this world lifts his horn: 
  Judah is scattered, as the chaff is borne
    Before the stormy gale.

    Where are our brethren? where
  The good and true, the terrible and fleet? 
  They whom we loved, with whom we sat at meat,
    With whom we kneeled in prayer?

    Mangled and marred they lie,
  Upon the bloody pillow of their rest: 
  Stern Dalzell smiles, and Clavers with a jest
    Spurs his fierce charger by.

    So let our foes rejoice;—­
  We to the Lord, who hears their impious boasts. 
  Will call for comfort:  to the God of Hosts
    We will lift up our voice.

    Give ear unto our song;
  For we are wandering o’er our native land,
  As sheep that have no shepherd:  and the hand
    Of wicked men is strong.

    Only to thee we bow. 
  Our lips have drained the fury of thy cup;
  And the deep murmurs of our hearts go up
    To heaven for vengeance now.

    Avenge—­oh, not our years
  Of pain and wrong; the blood of martyrs shed;
  The ashes heaped upon the hoary head;
    The maiden’s silent tears;

    The babe’s bread torn away’
  The harvest blasted by the war-steed’s hoof;
  The red flame wreathing o’er the cottage roof;
    Judge not for those to-day!

    Is not thine own dread rod
  Mocked by the proud, thy holy book disdained,
  Thy name blasphemed, thy temple’s courts profaned? 
    Avenge thyself, O God!

    Break Pharoah’s iron crown;
  Bind with new chains their nobles and their kings;
  Wash from thy house the blood of unclean things;
    And hurl their Dagon down!

    Come in thine own good time! 
  We will abide:  we have not turned from thee;
  Though in a world of grief our portion be,
    Of bitter grief, and crime.

    Be thou our guard and guide! 
  Forth from the spoiler’s synagogue we go. 
  That we may worship where the torrents flow,
    And where the whirlwinds ride.

    From lonely rocks and caves
  We will pour forth our sacrifice of prayer.—­
  On, brethren, to the mountains!  Seek we there
    Safe temples, quiet graves!

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HOPE AND LOVE.

  One day, through fancy’s telescope,
    Which is my richest treasure,
  I saw, dear Susan, Love and Hope
    Set out in search of Pleasure: 
  All mirth and smiles I saw them go;
    Each was the other’s banker;
  For Hope took up her brother’s bow,
    And Love, his sister’s anchor.

  They rambled on o’er vale and hill,
    They passed by cot and tower;
  Through summer’s glow and winter’s chill,
    Through sunshine and through shower,
  But what did those fond playmates care
    For climate, or for weather? 
  All scenes to them were bright and fair,
    On which they gazed together.