#ScottishWriters
The train has left the hills of B… The barrier guard have open made (So Lindesay bade) the palisade, That closed the tented ground; Their men the warders backward dre…
The Wildgrave winds his bugle-hor… To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo… His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pur… The eager pack, from couples freed…
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen
MacLeod’s wizard flag from the gr… The rowers are seated, unmoor’d ar… Gleam war-axe and broadsword, clan… As Mackrimmon sings, ‘Farewell to… Farewell to each cliff, on which b…
On fair Loch-Ranza stream’d the e… Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are… From the lone hamlet, which her in… And circling mountains sever from… And there the fisherman his sail u…
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the… To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
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
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…
An hour with thee! When earliest… Dapples with gold the eastern gray… Oh, what can frame my mind to bear The toil and turmoil, cark and car… New griefs, which coming hours unf…
Next morn the Baron climb’d the t… To view afar the Scottish power, Encamp’d on Flodden edge: The white pavilions made a show, Like remnants of the winter snow,
Heap on more wood! the wind is chi… But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry st… Each age has deemed the new-born y… The fittest time for festal cheer;
The violet in her greenwood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazel mi… May boast itself the fairest flowe… In glen, or copse, or forest dingl… Though fair her gems of azure hue,
The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill, In Ettrick’s vale, is sinking swe… The westland wind is hush and stil… The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye
Introduction. The way was long, the wind was col… The Minstrel was infirm and old; His wither’d cheek, and tresses gr… Seem’d to have known a better day;
To an Oak Tree, In the Churchyar… Emblem of England’s ancient faith… Full proudly may thy branches wave… Where loyalty lies low in death, And valour fills a timeless grave.