Exactos, puer, esse decern tibi gratulor annos; Hactenus es matris cura patrisque decus. Incumbis studiis, et amas et amaris, et audes Pro patria raucis obvius ire fretis. Non erimus comites, fili, tibi; sed memor esto Matris in oceano cum vigil astra leges. Imbelli patre natus habe tamen arma Britannus, Militiam perfer, spemque fidemque fove. 1889. JE MAINTIENDRAI (FOR THE TUNE CALLED SANTA LUCIA) Rise, rise, ye Devon folk! Toss off the traitor's yoke, Peer through the rain and smoke, Look, look again! Run down to Brixham pier-- Quick, quick, the Prince is near! All the rights ye reckon dear He will maintain. Chorus-- Welcome, sweet English rose! Welcome, Dutch Roman nose! Scatter, scatter all the Gospel's foes, William and Mary! High over gulls and boats Bright, free the banner floats; Hearken, hear the clarion notes! Lift hats and stare. Courtiers who break the laws, Tame cats with velvet paws, Hypocrites with poisoned claws, Croppies, beware! Trust, Sir, the western shires, Trust those who baffled Spain; We'll be hardy like our sires. Down, Pope, again! Off, off with sneak and thief! We'll have an honest chief. England is no Popish fief; Free kings shall reign. SAPPHICS FOR A TUNE MADE BY REQUEST OF A SONGSTRESS, AND REJECTED Relics of battle dropt in sandy valley, Bugle that screamed a warning of surprise, Shreds of the colour torn before the rally, Jewel of troth-plight seen by dying eyes-- Welcome, dear tokens of the lad we mourn. Tell how that day his faithful heart was leaping; Help me, who linger in the home forlorn, Throw me a rainbow on my endless weeping. 1885. JOHNNIE OF BRAIDISLEE A SECOND ATTEMPT, ACCEPTED Down the burnside hurry thee, gentle mavis, Find the bothie, and flutter about the doorway. Touch the lattice tenderly, bid my mother Fetch away Johnnie. Mother, uprouse thee! many bitter arrows Out of one bosom gather, and for ever Pray for one resting in a chilly forest Under an oak tree. Gentle mavis! hover about the window Where the sun shines on happy things of home life, Bid the clansmen troop to the gory dingle. Clansmen, avenge me! Mother! oh, my mother! upon a cradle Woven of willows, with a bow beside me, Near the kirk of Durrisdeer, under yew boughs, Rock thy beloved. 1885. EUROPA May the foemen's wives, the foemen's children, Feel the kid leaping when he lifts the surge, Tumult of swart sea, and the reefs that shudder Under the scourge. On such a day to the false bull Europa Trusted her snowy limbs; and courage failed her, Where the whales swarmed, the terror of sea-change and Treason assailed her.