#ScottishWriters
Dense on the stream the vapours la… Thick as wool on the cold highway; Spongy and dim, each lonely lamp Shone o’er the streets so dull and… The moonbeam could not pierce the…
Far away! O far away, Over the wide sea’s bounding spray… Many a league o’er the pelting foa… We seek a country, we seek a home! Farewell, England! our native lan…
The earth is white with the fallin… And white is the forest tree, And my mocassin leaves no tell-tal… As I come to visit thee. O! swift is my foot on the war-pat…
Let others chase the timid deer O’er field or level moor, We’ve a braver sport, and a nobler… To chase the mighty boar. Through forest dark, and tangled w…
When Morning sheds her ruddy ligh… O’er heath and dusky dell, Away we go to the mountain’s heigh… To chase the swift gazelle; To chase afar the savage wolf,
Wind of the winter night, whence c… And whither, oh whither, art wande… Sad, sad is thy voice on this deso… And mournful, oh mournful, thy how… Say where hast thou been on thy cl…
Far from bustle, strife, and care, ‘Mong the woods I’ve wooed her. And to her secluded nook, By the margin of a brook, And by waters bright and blue,
There came a pilgrim to the gate, An aged man was he, And he sat him down upon a stone, And sighed most bitterly: The night was cold,-the fierce win…
Ye who have scorned each other In this fast fading year, Or wronged a friend or brother, Come gather humbly here: Let sinned against and sinning
Strew roses on the way, And think no more of grief, Short is the passing day, Short-lived the summer leaf; Short is our mortal span
Alder tree, O alder tree, Over his grave reclining; I’ve braided a wreath of the faire… That ever were fed by the spring-t… Or nursed by the summer shining.
Come, maidens come, to our merry d… Youth and Beauty come together; Let young hearts meet In converse sweet, At twilight’s time, in the summer…
Hope on her wings, and God her gu… The dove of Noah soared, Far through the dim unfathomed spa… Where shoreless ocean roared. But ah! she found no valley green,
Hurrah! for the land of the thistl… The clime of the fair and free! Where the lassies are bonnie And loving as ony, The pride of the North Countrie!
When the tempests fly O’er the cloudy sky, And the piping blast sings wearily… O! sweet is the mirth Of the social hearth,