‘O, open the door, some pity to sh… Keen blows the northern wind! The glen is white with the drifted… And the path is hard to find. ’No outlaw seeks your castle gate,

March, march, Ettrick and Teviotd… Why the deil dinna ye march forwar… March, march, Eskdale and Liddesd… All the Blue Bonnets are bound fo… Many a banner spread,

Far in the chambers of the west, The gale had sigh’d itself to rest… The moon was cloudless now and cle… But pale, and soon to disappear. The thin grey clouds wax dimly lig…

On Ettrick Forest’s mountains dun ’Tis blithe to hear the sportsman’… And seek the heath-frequenting bro… Far through the noonday solitude; By many a cairn and trenched mound…

At morn the black-cock trims his j… ‘T is morning prompts the linnet’s… All Nature’s children feel the ma… Of life reviving, with reviving da… And while yon little bark glides d…

Hast thou not mark’d, when o’er th… Sudden and deep the thunder-peal h… How when its echoes fell, a silenc… Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and… The rye-glass shakes not on the so…

Soft spread the southern sumer nig… Her veil of darksome blue; Ten thousand stars combined to lig… The terrace of Saint Cloud. The evening breezes gently sigh’d,

Fair Brussels, thou art far behin… Though, lingering on the morning w… We yet may hear the hour Pealed over orchard and canal, With voice prolonged and measured…

Stern eagle of the far north-west, Thou that bearest in thy grasp the… Thou whose rushing pinions stir oc… Thou the destroyer of herds, thou… Amidst the scream of thy rage,

Where shall the lover rest Whom the fates sever From the true maiden’s breast, Parted for ever?— Where, through groves deep and hig…

O, Brignall banks are wild and fa… And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen: And as I rode by Dalton Hall,

Good evening, Sir Priest, and so… With your mule so fair, and your m… But ride you through valley, or ri… There is one that has warrant to w… Back, back,

Hear what Highland Nora said, - ‘The Earlie’s son I will not wed, Should all the race of nature die, And none be left but he and I. For all the gold, for all the gear…

The hunting tribes of air and eart… Respect the brethren of their birt… Nature, who loves the claim of kin… Less cruel chase to each assign’d. The falcon, poised on soaring wing…

O will ye hear a mirthful bourd? Or will ye hear of courtesie? Or will ye hear how a gallant lord Was wedded to a gay ladye? ‘Ca’ out the kye,' quo’ the villag…