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How lovely the elder brother's
Life all laced in the other's,
L've-laced! what once I well
Witnessed; so fortune fell.
When Shrovetide, two years gone,
Our boys' plays brought on...

It was a village built in a green rent,
Between two cliffs that skirt the dangerous bay
A reef of level rock runs out to sea,
And you may lie on it and look sheer down,...

Twin children: the Girl, she was plain;
The Brother was handsome & vain;
"Let him brag of his looks,"
Father said; "mind your books!
The best beauty is bred in the brain."
...

Not to the sober and staid,
Leading a quiet life,
But to men whose paths are laid
Ever through storm and strife,
Here is a song from me,
Sent to the tragic West,
Message of sympathy...

The Text is given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. It was first printed by Scott, with the omission of the second stanza--perhaps justifiable--and a few minor changes. He notes that he had seen a copy printed on a single sheet....

In the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade
Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise,
An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade,
With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes,...

There is a brown dolly
Who has a guitar;
She plays on it always,
Tra lal, tra lal la!

She has a new ditty
For every day;
I wish you could hear it,
Tra lal, tra lal lay!

John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying day:
"I will not have to shrive my soul a priest in Slavery's pay.
But let some poor slave-mother whom I have striven to free,...

I Whispered, "I am too young,"
And then, "I am old enough";
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair."...

The Text is here given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. Versions, lengthened and therefore less succinct and natural, are given in Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs (Love Robbie) and in Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland (Br...

The Text is the only one known, that printed by Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, and copied into Motherwell's MS.

...

The Abbot on the threshold stood,
And in his hand the holy rood:
Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal,
Proud Lorn first answered the appeal;
"Thou comest, O holy man,...

Tune - "Hey, tuttie taitie."



I.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie!

II.
...

It lies beyond the Western Pines
Beneath the sinking sun,
And not a survey mark defines,
The bounds of "Brumby's Run".

On odds and ends of mountain land,
On tracks of range and rock...

When trees in Spring
Are blossoming
My lady wakes
From dreams whose light
Made dark days bright,
For their sweet sakes.

Yet in her eyes
A shadow lies
Of bygone mirth;...

On rue Vincingetorix,
a Paris hovel
in a garret of cold -
Gauguin enchanted
serpentine colours, the medium of
a brushstroke from
a paltry primitivism.

Rue Vincingetorix,
cloudy haze...

Mary had a little lamb,
The lamb was always buttin'
So Mary killed the little lamb
And turned him into mutton.

We tightened stirrup; buckled rein;
Looked to our saddle-girths again;
Shook hands all round; then mounted.
The gate swung wide: we said, "Good-bye."
No time for talk had Bell and I....

The harp has fallen from the master's hand;
Mute is the music, voiceless are the strings,
Save such faint discord as the wild wind flings
In sad aeolian murmurs through the land....

Some in front rank will defiant,
Boldly place the poet Bryant.