And what though winter will pinch… Through locks of grey and a cloak… Yet keep up thy heart, bold cavali… For a cup of sack shall fence the… For time will rust the brightest b…

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

Glowing with love, on fire for fam… A Troubadour that hated sorrow Beneath his lady’s window came, And thus he sung his last good-mor… ‘My arm it is my country’s right,

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…

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,

The Wildgrave winds his bugle-hor… To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo… His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pur… The eager pack, from couples freed…

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…

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…

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…

The violet in her greenwood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazel mi… May boast itself the fairest flowe… In glen, or copse, or forest dingl… Though fair her gems of azure hue,

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle; Fire and sleete and candle lighte, And Christe receive thye saule. When thou from hence away are past…

CANTO I.XIX. The Lady sought the lofty hall, Where many a bold retainer lay, And with jocund din among them all… Her son pursued his infant play.

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…

Take these flowers which, purple w… On the ruin’d rampart grew, Where, the sons of freedom braving… Rome’s imperial standards flew. Warriors from the breach of danger

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…