Charlie MacPherson, that braw Hieland lad[die],
On Valentine's even cam doun to Kinaltie,
Courtit Burd Hellen, baith wakin an sleepin:
" Oh, fair fa them has my love in keepin!"

Charlie MacPherson cam doun the dykeside,
Baith Milton an Muirton an a' bein his guide;
Baith Milton an Muirton an auld Water Nairn,
A' gaed wi him, for to be his warn.

Whan he cam to the hoose o Kinaltie,
" Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!
Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!
For here's a commission come frae your gudeson.

THE characters of great and small
—Come ready made, we can't bespeak one;
Their sides are many, too, and all
—(Except ourselves) have got a weak one.
Some sanguine people love for life,
—Some love their hobby till it flings them.
How many love a pretty wife
—For love of the éclat she brings them! . . .

A little to relieve my mind
—I've thrown off this disjointed chatter,
But more because I'm disinclined
—To enter on a painful matter:
Once I was bashful; I'll allow
—I've blushed for words untimely spoken;

Chang Liang's face was like a young woman's;
Li Kuang was quite sincere — and ugly.
Yet with one blow Chang nearly killed the Dragon;
with ape-arms Li shot arrows like a god.

Chaeronean Plutarch, to thy deathless praise
Does martial Rome this grateful statue raise;
Because both Greece and she thy fame have shared
(Their heroes written, and their lives compared);
But thou thyself couldst never write thy own:
Their lives have parallels, but thine has none.

Certainly there was something to their stories:
Something had been at the fields, the pond was shaped
Like an enormous footprint; there were the usual signs,
Small herds, snapped trees.
I sat astride my horse in the autumn twilight,
Conscious of looking well; they crowded about me,
Jabbering, gesticulating, spilling out of straw-thatched huts.
Later, outside the tavern, I was shown
A number of women — all, it was said, deflowered.

Well, I set out at once: the approach was sinister,
Full of the usual obstacles; suddenly,

A CERTAIN youthful lady in Thoulouse,
Gentle and fair, of cheerful modesty,
Is in her eyes, with such exact degree,
Of likeness unto mine own lady, whose
I am, that through the heart she doth abuse
The soul to sweet desire. It goes from me
To her; yet, fearing, saith not who is she
That of a truth its essence thus subdues.
This lady looks on it with the sweet eyes
Whose glance did erst the wounds of Love anoint
Through its true lady's eyes which are as they.
Then to the heart returns it, full of sighs,

Oh ! give me a cot in some wood-shaded glen,
Shut in from the clangour of conflict and pain,—
Far away from the turmoil of town-prisoned men,
Who strive for subsistence, and struggle for gain!
Aloof from all envy, secure from annoy,
My chiefest companions my wife and my child,—
I could think with some purpose, and labour with joy,
In that Home of Seclusion, far, far in the wild.

The lark should arouse me to action and thought,—
I would take my first draught at the health-giving rill;
I would gaze on the beauties that morning had brought,

Certain days wash ashore from the sea
and birds exist that dream of the south.

Possibly my heart flares up with cheer
because it thinks back to that afternoon in Mazatlan,
when we extinguished with booze
the final bonfires of summer.

Even now I recall it under the custard-apple tree
and the river making its sound at my feet.

(Many paths cut through the fields of sugar cane
and the grass was tall and ticklish.)

But days also bring love's weight on their shoulders:
the painful letters, that moment of the war,

"Centre of Earth!' a Chinaman he said,
And bent over a map his pig-tailed head,--
That map in which, portrayed in colours bright,
China, all dazzling, burst upon the sight;
'Centre of Earth!' repeatedly he cries,
'Land of the brave, the beautiful, the wise!'
Thus he exclaimed; when lo his words arrested
Showed what sharp agony his head had tested.
He feels a tug--another, and another--
And quick exclaims, "Hallo! what's now the bother?'
But soon, alas, perceives. And, "Why, false night,
Why not from men shut out the hateful sight?

Celestial choir! enthron'd in realms of light
Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write.
While freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms,
She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
See mother earth her offspring's fate bemoan,
And nations gaze at scenes before unknown!
See the bright beams of heaven's revolving light
Involved in sorrows and the veil of night!

The goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel binds her golden hair:
Wherever shines this native of the skies,
Unnumber'd charms and recent graces rise.