#Scots
Red glows the forge in Striguil’s… And hammers din, and anvil sounds, And armourers, with iron toil, Barb many a steed for battle’s bro… Foul fall the hand which bends the…
The Abbot on the threshold stood, And in his hand the holy rood: Then, cloaking hate with fiery zea… Proud Lorn first answered the app… ‘Thou comest, O holy man,
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…
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…
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;
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
It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle… And she would marry a Scottish kn… For Love will still be lord of al… Blithely they saw the rising sun
From heavy dreams fair Helen rose… And eyed the dawning red: ‘Alas, my love, thou tarriest long… O art thou false or dead?’- II.
[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.
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…
Part First Ancient True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee; And there he saw a lady bright,
Call it not vain;-they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper… And celebrates his obsequies: Who say, tall cliff and cavern lon…
An ancient minstrel sagely said, ‘Where is the life which late we l… That motley clown in Arden wood, Whom humorous Jaques with envy vi… Not even that clown could amplify,
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…