#Scots
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 trill’d all…
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I’ll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sall be his bride: And ye sall be his bride, ladie,
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
The breeze, which swept away the s… Round Norham Castle rolled, When all the loud artillery spoke, With lightning-flash, and thunder-… As Marmion left the hold.
O young Lochinvar is come out of… Through all the wide Border his s… And save his good broadsword he we… He rode all unarm’d, and he rode a… So faithful in love, and so dauntl…
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er, Sleep the sleep that knows not bre… Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle’s enchanted hall,
Viewless essence, thin and bare, Well nigh melted into air, Still with fondness hovering near The earthly form thou once didst w… Pause upon thy pinion’s flight;
Look not thou on beauty’s charming… Sit thou still when kings are armi… Taste not when the wine-cup gliste… Speak not when the people listens; Stop thine ear against the singer;
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.
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…
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. ‘Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant…
BREATHES there the man with so… Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native land… Whose heart hath ne’er within him… As home his footsteps he hath turn…
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,
Young men will love thee more fair… Heard ye so merry the little bird… Old men’s love the longest will la… And the throstle-cock’s head is un… The young man’s wrath is like ligh…
Late, when the autumn evening fell On Mirkwood-Mere’s romantic dell, The lake returned, in chastened gl… The purple cloud, the golden beam: Reflected in the crystal pool,