As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve, / Bannockburn ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour; See approach proud Edward's power- Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha for Scotland's King and law By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low ! BURNS. The Minstrel-Boy THE Minstrel-boy to the war is gone, And said, 'No chains shall sully thee, Thy songs were made for the brave and free, They shall never sound in slavery!' The Farewell It was a' for our rightfu' King, It was a' for our rightfu' King We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, My love and native land farewell, My dear; For I maun cross the main. MOORE. E 50 He turn'd him right and round about And gae his bridle-reins a shake, My dear; With adieu for evermore. The sodger from the wars returns, Never to meet again, My dear; Never to meet again. When day is gane, and night is come, The lee-lang night, and weep. AUTHORSHIP UNCERTAIN. The Harp that once through Tara's Halls THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, No more to chiefs and ladies bright The chord alone, that breaks at night, Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, Is when some heart indignant breaks, MOORE. Stanzas COULD Love for ever And Time's endeavour Be tried in vain- With this could measure; And like a treasure We'd hug the chain. Ends not in dying, And, form'd for flying, Love plumes his wing; Then for this reason Let's love a season; But let that season be only Spring. When lovers parted Feel broken-hearted, BYRON. A Sea Dirge FULL fathom five thy father lies: But doth suffer a sea-change Ding, Dong, Bell. SHAKESPEARE. Rose Aylmer AH! what avails the sceptred race, Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes A night of memories and of sighs Song LANDOR. WHO is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her That she might admired be. Is she kind, as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. To help him of his blindness; SHAKESPEARE Lucy Ashton's Song Look not thou on beauty's charming,— SCOTT. |