[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.

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;

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;

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…

High deeds achieved of knightly fa… From Palestine the champion came; The cross upon his shoulders borne… Battle and blast had dimm’d and to… Each dint upon his batter’d shield

‘Why sit’st thou by that ruin’d ha… Thou aged carle so stern and grey? Dost thou its former pride recall, Or ponder how it pass’d away?'- ‘Know’st thou not me?' the Deep V…

Breathes there the man, with soul… 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…

Frederick leaves the land of Fran… Homeward hastes his steps to measu… Careless casts the parting glance On the scene of former pleasure. Joying in his prancing steed,

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

Introduction. Come Lucy! while ’tis morning hou… The woodland brook we needs must p… So, ere the sun assume his power, We shelter in our poplar bower,

Addressed to the Right Hon. Lady… When princely Hamilton’s abode Ennobled Cadyow’s Gothic towers, The song went round, the goblet fl… And revel sped the laughing hours.

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…

The Pope he was saying the high,… All on Saint Peter’s day, With the power, to him given, by t… To wash men’s sins away. The Pope he was saying the blesse…

I climbed the dark brow of the mig… Lakes and mountains beneath me gle… All was still, save by fits, when… And starting around me the echoes… On the right, Striding-edge round…

Dinas Emlinn, lament; for the mom… When mute in the woodlands thine e… No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon… And mix his wild notes with the wi… II.