#Scots
OH, lovers’ eyes are sharp to see… And lovers’ ears in hearing; And love, in life’s extremity, Can lend an hour of cheering! Disease had been in Mary’s bower
’Twas when among our linden-trees The bees had housed in swarms, (And grey-hair’d peasants say that… Betoken foreign arms), Then look’d we down to Willisow,
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan-Conuil. Come away, come away,
“Have, then, thy wish!”—he whistle… And he was answer’d from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath,
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…
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil! Come away, come away,
Next morn the Baron climb’d the t… To view afar the Scottish power, Encamp’d on Flodden edge: The white pavilions made a show, Like remnants of the winter snow,
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…
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,
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,
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.
Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust - Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam… And each evanescent letter
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.
Farewell to Northmaven, Grey Hillswicke, farewell! The storms on thy haven, The storms on thy fell - To each breeze that can vary
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…