Your foes are at hand, and the brand that they wield,
Soon, soon will emblazon your plain;
But, ah! may the arm of the brave be your shield,
And the song of the victory your strain.
Remember the fetters and chains that are wove,
And fated by slavery's decree,
Are not like the fetters of union and love,
That bind and encircle the free.
Though rich be your fields, they will blight in their bloom,
With the glow of the patriot's fires;
And the sun that now gladdens, shall sink into gloom,
And grow dark when your freedom expires.
Be yours, then, the triumph to brave ones that 's meet,
And your country, with laurels in store,
Each weary and toil-worn warrior will greet
When the tumult of battle is o'er.
ARCHIBALD MACKAY.
Archibald Mackay was born at Kilmarnock in 1801. Receiving a common school education, he was apprenticed to a handloom weaver. Abandoning the loom, he subsequently acquired a knowledge of bookbinding, and has continued to prosecute that trade. From his youth devoted to the Muse, he produced in 1828 a metrical tale, entitled "Drouthy Tam," which, passing through numerous editions, brought a local reputation to the writer. In 1830 he published a small volume of poems, and in 1832 a little work in prose and verse, entitled "Recreations of Leisure Hours." In 1848 appeared from his pen a "History of Kilmarnock," in a well-written octavo volume. A collection of his best songs was published in 1855, under the title of "Ingleside Lilts." Mackay has contributed extensively to the local journals, and has established a circulating library for the benefit of his fellow-townsmen.
OUR AULD SCOTS SANGS.
Air—"Traveller's Return."
Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs,
The mournfu' and the gay;
They charm'd me by a mither's knee,
In bairnhood's happy day:
And even yet, though owre my pow
The snaws of age are flung,
The bluid loups joyfu' in my veins
Whene'er I hear them sung.