A. Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands Oh where have you been? They have slain the Earl of Murra… And they layd him on the green.

1731 BEAUTIFUL face of a child, Lighted with laughter and glee, Mirthful, and tender, and wild, My heart is heavy for thee!

Oh, where are the endless Romance… Our grandmothers used to adore? The Knights with their helms and… Their shields and the favours they… And the Monks with their magical…

Long life hath taught me many thin… That lukewarm loves for men who di… Weak wine of liking let them mix a… Not Love, that stings the soul wi… Happy, who wears his love-bonds li…

Willie has ta’en him o’er the faem… He’s wooed a wife, and brought her… He’s wooed her for her yellow hair… But his mother wrought her meikle… And meikle dolour gar’d her dree,

This morning I vowed I would brin… They were thrust in the band that… But the breast-knots were broken,… The breast-knots were broken; the… Floated forth on the wings of the…

‘Once Cagn was like a father, kin… But He was spoiled by fighting ma… He wars upon the lions in the wood… And breaks the Thunder-bird’s tre… But still we cry to Him,—'We are…

Now the bright crocus flames, and… The slim narcissus takes the rain, And, straying o’er the mountain’s… The daffodilies bud again. The thousand blossoms wax and wane

Let others praise analysis And revel in a “cultured” style, And follow the subjective Miss From Boston to the banks of Nile, Rejoice in anti-British bile,

As, to the pipe, with rhythmic fee… In windings of some old-world danc… The smiling couples cross and meet… Join hands, and then in line advan… So, to these fair old tunes of Fr…

Fair Amaryllis, wilt thou never p… From forth the cave, and call me,… Lo, apples ten I bear thee from t… These didst thou long for, and all… Ah, would I were a honey-bee to s…

The man whom once, Melpomene, Thou look’st on with benignant sig… Shall never at the Isthmus be A boxer eminent in fight, Nor fares he foremost in the fligh…

The call of homing rooks, the shri… Song of some bird that watches lat… The cries of children break the st… Sad twilight by the churchyard gat… And o’er your far-off tomb the gre…

The ferox rins in rough Loch Awe, A weary cry frae ony toun; The Spey, that loups o’er linn an… They praise a’ ither streams aboon… They boast their braes o’ bonny D…

Not Jason nor Medea wise, I crave to see, nor win much lore, Nor list to Orpheus’ minstrelsies… Nor Her’cles would I see, that o’… The wide world roamed from shore t…