The hunting tribes of air and eart… Respect the brethren of their birt… Nature, who loves the claim of kin… Less cruel chase to each assign’d. The falcon, poised on soaring wing…

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…

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…

The sultry summer day is done, The western hills have hid the sun… But mountain peak and village spir… Retain reflection of his fire. Old Barnard’s towers are purple s…

Farewell, merry maidens, to song,… For the brave lads of Westra are… And we must have labour, and hunge… Ere we dance with the maids of Du… For now, in our trim boats of Nor…

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…

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.

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 deem’d the new-born y… The fittest time for festal cheer:

To an Oak Tree, In the Churchyar… Emblem of England’s ancient faith… Full proudly may thy branches wave… Where loyalty lies low in death, And valour fills a timeless grave.

Autumn departs - but still his man… Rests on the groves of noble Some… Beneath a shroud of russet dropp’d… Tweed and his tributaries mingle s… Hoarser the wind, and deeper sound…

Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day; All the jolly chase is here With hawk and horse and hunting-sp… Hounds are in their couples yellin…

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;

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…

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…

weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to brai… And press the rue for wine. A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien,