'Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns Trembling to you! ...
Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest Is come, and thou art silent in thy age; Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught...
Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain;...
"What, you are stepping westward?" "Yea." 'Twould be a 'wildish' destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, Were in this place the guests of Chance:...
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these grey rocks; that household lawn;...
Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours; And bid them dance, and bid them sing; And thou, too, mingle in the ring! Take to thy heart a new delight;...
From Stirling castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled; Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said my "winsome Marrow,"...
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord! Whom mere despite of heart could so far please, And love of havoc, (for with such disease Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth word...
Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale! Say that we come, and come by this day's light; Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height, But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale;...
A Famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy! And Scotland has a thief as good, An outlaw of as daring mood; She has her brave ROB ROY! Then clear the weeds from off his Grave,...
Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have romped enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your stool and rest; This corner is your own. ...
"How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower, All over his dear Country; left the deeds Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts,...
What He who, 'mid the kindred throng Of Heroes that inspired his song, Doth yet frequent the hill of storms, The stars dim-twinkling through their forms! What! Ossian here, a painted Thrall,...
To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen, Or depth of labyrinthine glen; Or into trackless forest set With trees, whose lofty umbrage met; World-wearied Men withdrew of yore;...
And is this, Yarrow? 'This' the Stream Of which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream? An image that hath perished! O that some Minstrel's harp were near, To utter notes of gladness,...
In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the NARROW GLEN; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath...
Dear Fellow-travellers! think not that the Muse, To You presenting these memorial Lays, Can hope the general eye thereon would gaze, As on a mirror that gives back the hues...
'Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen; But, if the Nereid Sisters and their Queen, Above whose heads the tide so long hath rolled,...
Bruges I saw attired with golden light (Streamed from the west) as with a robe of power: The splendour fled; and now the sunless hour, That, slowly making way for peaceful night,...
The Spirit of Antiquity, enshrined In sumptuous buildings, vocal in sweet song, In picture, speaking with heroic tongue, And with devout solemnities entwined, Mounts to the seat of grace within the mind:...