#ScottishWriters
In Imitation of An Old English… My wayward fate I needs must plai… Though bootless be the theme; I loved, and was beloved again, Yet all was but a dream:
hush thee, my babie, thy sire was… Thy mother a lady, both lovely and… The woods and the glens, from the… They all are belonging, dear babie… O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo,
Red glows the forge in Striguil’s… And hammers din, and anvil sounds, And armourers, with iron toil, Barb many a steed for battle’s bro… Foul fall the hand which bends the…
TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears… And in her glory reappears. But oh, my Country’s wintry state
Wasted, weary, wherefore stay, Wrestling thus with earth and clay… From the body pass away;- Hark! the mass is singing. From thee doff thy mortal weed,
The Forest of Glenmore is drear, It is all of black pine, and the d… And the midnight wind to the mount… Is whistling the forest lullaby: The moon looks through the driftin…
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,
Dust unto dust, To this all must; The tenant hath resign’d The faded form To waste and worm– Corruption claims her kind.
Stranger! if e’er thine ardent ste… The northern realms of ancient Ca… Where the proud Queen of Wilderne… By lake and cataract, her lonely t… Sublime but sad delight thy soul h…
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…
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…
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…
O young Lochinvar is come out of… Through all the wide Border his s… And save his good broadsword he we… He rode all unarm’d, and he rode a… So faithful in love, and so dauntl…
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…
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.