Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and… As in that well-remember’d night When first thy mystic braid was wo… And first my Agnes whisper’d love… Since then how often hast thou pre…

When dark December glooms the day… And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sunbeam t… Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard,

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…

To the Lords of Convention ’twas… ‘Ere the King’s crown shall fall… So let each Cavalier who loves ho… Come follow the bonnet of Bonny D… Come fill up my cup, come fill up…

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,

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.

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…

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…

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

Harp of the North, farewell! The… On purple peaks a deeper shade des… In twilight copse the glow-worm li… The deer, half-seen, are to the co… Resume thy wizard elm! the fountai…

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…

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…

The rose is fairest when ‘t is bud… And hope is brightest when it dawn… The rose is sweetest washed with m… And love is loveliest when embalme… O wilding rose, whom fancy thus en…

‘O hone a rie’! O hone a rie!’ The pride of Albin’s line is o’er… And fall’n Glenartney’s statelies… We ne’er shall see Lord Ronald mo… O, sprung from great Macgillianor…

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…