Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, "This is my own, my native land!" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned,...
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil! Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war-array, Gentles and commons. ...
Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending....
"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sall be his bride: And ye sall be his bride, ladie, Sae comely to be seen"...
O hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee....
When the heathen trumpet's clang Round beleaguer'd Chester rang, Veiled nun and friar grey March'd from Bangor's fair Abbaye; High their holy anthem sounds, Cestria's vale the hymn rebounds,...
On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun 'Tis blithe to hear the sportsman's gun, And seek the heath-frequenting brood Far through the noonday solitude; By many a cairn and trenched mound,...
So goodbye, Mrs. Brown, I am going out of town, Over dale, over down, Where bugs bite not, Where lodgers fight not, Where below your chairmen drink not, Where beside your gutters stink not;...
I. Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright, Both current and ripple are dancing in light. We have roused the night raven, I heard him croak As we plashed along beneath the oak...
Pibroch of Donuil, Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan-Conuil. Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war array, Gentles and commons.
It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound for Palestine, But first he made his orisons before Saint Mary's shrine: "And grant, immortal Queen of Heaven," was still the Soldier's prayer;...
Yes, thou mayst sigh, And look once more at all around, At stream and bank, and sky and ground. Thy life its final course has found, And thou must die.
Farewell, merry maidens, to song, and to laugh, For the brave lads of Westra are bound to the Haaf; And we must have labour, and hunger, and pain, Ere we dance with the maids of Dunrossness again. ...
I. Night and morning were at meeting Over Waterloo; Cocks had sung their earliest greeting; Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone On the heights of Mount Saint John;...
Fair Brussels, thou art far behind, Though, lingering on the morning wind, We yet may hear the hour Pealed over orchard and canal, With voice prolonged and measured fall,...