“ Let fate do her worst! there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,
Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled;
Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd!
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will ”

“ Sheath the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland!
⁠Shcath the sword, Scotland, for dimmed is its shine:
Thy foemen are fleeing, fleeing, fleeing,
⁠And wha kens nae mercy is nae son o' thine!
The struggle is over, over, over,
⁠The struggle is over!-the victory won!
There are tears for the fallen, the fallen, the fallen,
⁠And glory for all who their duty have done!
Sheath the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland! ”

“ I have seen, pretty moth, in the world,
⁠Some as wild as yourself and as gay,
Who, bewitched by the sweet fascination of eyes,
⁠Flitted round them by night and by day;
But though dreams of delight may have dazzled them quite,
⁠They at last found it dangerous play;
Many things in this world that look bright, pretty moth,
⁠Only dazzle to lead us astray. ”

“ Here's success to the shamrock, the thistle, the rose,
⁠May they ever in harmony twine!
And should wily discord again interpose,
⁠Let us challenge each other in wine.
For while we're united, foes threaten in vain,
⁠And their daring our fame shall increase,
Till the banner of Victory o'er land and main,
⁠Triumphant is waving in peace. ”

“ The gay jolly tars passed the word for the tipple
And the toast, for 'twas Saturday night.
Some sweetheart or wife,
He loved as his life,
Each drank, and wished he could hail her;
But the standing toast to
That pleased the most,
Was, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor." ”

“ With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight,
And the tall spears glancing on my sight,
And the trumpet in mine ear?
Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voice! be still! be still!
"They are gone! they have all passed by! ”

“ Sung by Miss Noel.
Aye wakin', oh!
Wakin' aye and weary,
Rest I canna get,
For thinking of my dearie.
Oh, this love, this love!
Life to ine how dreary!
When I sleep I dream,
Oh! when I wake I'm eerie. ”

“ Merrily, merrily goes the bark,
⁠Before the gale she bounds,
So darts the dolphin from the shark,
⁠Or the deer before the hounds
They left Loch Tua on their lee,
And they wakened the men of wild Tiree,
⁠And the chief of the sandy Coll. ”

“ And the spirit shall guide thee over seas, and mountains covered with roses, to Love's fountain; whose waters thou shalt taste, and thou shalt forget thy unhappy love.
Achnor and Samet, an Oriental Romance. Follow, follow over mountain,
⁠Follow, follow over sea,
And I'll guide thee to Love's fountain,
⁠If you'll follow, follow me.
⁠⁠⁠Follow, follow, &c.
With the waters of the fountain
⁠Will I ease thy aching heart,
And the roses of the mountain
⁠Shall to thee a balm impart.
⁠⁠⁠Follow, follow, &c.
For woman's love is dearly bought,
⁠If bought with peace of mind ”

“ Ballad Sung by Miss Love. Written, and Music composed, by J. Augustine Wade, Esq.-The idea of this Song is acknowledged, by its author, to have been derived from the Greek Poet Anacreon.
My lute it has but one sweet song,
⁠And that is love, dear love,
No other sounds will e'er belong
⁠To its soft voice, but love. ”

“ Your locks are like the snow,
Yet blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And monie a cantie day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither ”

“ And he'll eome again to me ere they fade.
⁠O! yes, he will come, &c.
⁠The glow-worm hath a light
⁠For the fairy queen of night,
But my true love's shroud so white lighteth me;
⁠'Tis whiter than the snow
⁠That sparkles on the bough
Where sweet Robin singeth now merrily. ”

“ A LASSIE LIVES BY YONDER BURN.
Words by Mr Carswell. Set to Music, with an accompaniment for the Forte, by J. Jaap.
A lassie lives by yonder burn,
That jinks about the seggins;
There aft she gi'es her sheep a turn,
To feed amang the brakens. ”

“ A Ballad, sung by Madame Vestris, Mrs Ashe, and Miss Paton, at the Orator and Musical Festivals. Written by Burns.
She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing! ”