Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil! Come away, come away,

Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day She roams from cot to castle gay; And still her voice and viol say, Ah, maids, beware the woodland way… Think on Louise.

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…

Farewell, merry maidens, to song,… For the brave lads of Westra are… And we must have labour, and hunge… Ere we dance with the maids of Du… For now, in our trim boats of Nor…

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,

I’ll give thee, good fellow, a twe… To search Europe through, from By… But ne’er shall you find, should y… So happy a man as the Barefooted… Your knight for his lady pricks fo…

Yes, thou mayst sigh, And look once more at all around, At stream and bank, and sky and gr… Thy life its final course has foun… And thou must die.

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…

TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears… And in her glory reappears. But oh, my Country’s wintry state

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

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,

On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere yon boun… Ever beware that your couch be ble… Sign it with cross, and sain it wi… Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. For on Hollow-Mass Eve the Nigh…

Farewell to Northmaven, Grey Hillswicke, farewell! The storms on thy haven, The storms on thy fell - To each breeze that can vary

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

“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,