When Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out from the land of bondage came, Her father's God before her moved, An awful Guide, in smoke and flame. By day, along the astonished lands...
Whet the bright steel, Sons of the White Dragon! Kindle the torch, Daughter of Hengist! The steel glimmers not for the carving of the banquet, It is hard, broad, and sharply pointed;...
Soldier, wake, the day is peeping, Honour ne'er was won in sleeping, Never when the sunbeams still Lay unreflected on the hill: 'Tis when they are glinted back From axe and armour, spear and jack,...
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark his lay who thrill'd all day Sits hush'd his partner nigh:...
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. ...
On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere yon boune ye to rest, Ever beware that your couch be bless'd; Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead, Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. ...
The Forest of Glenmore is drear, It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree; And the midnight wind to the mountain deer, Is whistling the forest lullaby: The moon looks through the drifting storm,...
There came three merry men from south, west, and north, Ever more sing the roundelay; To win the Widow of Wycombe forth, And where was the widow might say them nay? ...
High deeds achieved of knightly fame, From Palestine the champion came; The cross upon his shoulders borne, Battle and blast had dimm'd and torn. Each dint upon his batter'd shield...
The sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance;...
I. Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds, And hammers din, and anvil sounds, And armourers, with iron toil, Barb many a steed for battle's broil, Foul fall the hand which bends the steel...
There came three merry men from south, west, and north, Ever more sing the roundelay; To win the Widow of Wycombe forth, And where was the widow might say them nay? ...