#ScottishWriters
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bow… The breeze is on the sea. The lark his lay who thrill’d all…
Soldier, wake - the day is peeping… Honour ne’er was won in sleeping, Never when the sunbeams still Lay unreflected on the hill: ’Tis when they are glinted back
“Have, then, thy wish!”—he whistle… And he was answer’d from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath,
Eustace, I said, did blithely mar… The first notes of the merry lark. The lark sang shrill, the cock he… And loudly Marmion’s bugles blew, And with their light and lively ca…
All joy was bereft me the day that… And climb’d the tall vessel to sai… O weary betide it! I wander’d bes… And bann’d it for parting my Will… Far o’er the wave hast thou follow…
Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. ‘Tell me, thou bonny bird,
[ROSABELLE]6- O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
Night and morning were at meeting Over Waterloo; Cocks had sung their earliest gree… Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone
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,
When Denmark’s raven soar’d on hi… Triumphant through Northumbrian s… Till, hovering near, her fatal cro… Bade Reged’s Britons dread the yo… And the broad shadow of her wing
Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust - Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam… And each evanescent letter
The rose is fairest when ‘t is bud… And hope is brightest when it dawn… The rose is sweetest washed with m… And love is loveliest when embalme… O wilding rose, whom fancy thus en…
The herring loves the merry moon-l… The mackerel loves the wind, But the oyster loves the dredging… For they come of a gentle kind. Now haud your tongue, baith wife a…
The sun upon the lake is low, The wild birds hush their song, The hills have evening’s deepest g… Yet Leonard tarries long. Now all whom varied toil and care