THE sun upon the lake is low,

The wild birds hush their song ;
The hills have evening's deepest glow,

Yet Leonard tarries long.
Now all whom varied toil and care

From home and love divide,
In the calm sunset may repair

Each to the loved one's side.

The noble dame on turret high,

Who waits her gallant knight,
Looks to the western beam to spy

The flash of armour bright.
The village maid, with hand on brow

The level ray to shade,
Upon the footpath watches now

For Colin's darkening plaid.
Now to their mates the wild swans row,

By day they swam apart ;
And to the thicket wanders slow

The hind beside the hart.
The woodlark at his partner's side

Twitters his closing song-
All meet whom day and care divide, -
But Leonard tarries long !

SIR W. Scott.


ORPHEUS with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,

Bow themselves when he did sing :
To his music, plants and flowers
Ever sprung ; as sun and showers

There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.


The Twa Corbies
As I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies making a mane,
The tane unto the t'other say,
“Whar sall we gang and dine the day?'
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight ;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
· His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta’en another mate,
So we may make our dinner sweet.
“Ye'll sit on his white hause bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en :
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair,
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken whae he is gane :
O’er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'


To One in Paradise


THOU wast all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

1 Fail,



Ah, dream, too bright to last !

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast !

A voice from out the Future cries, On ! on !'_but o'er the Past

(Dim gulf !) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast !

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For, alas ! alas ! with me

The light of Life is o'er !

“No moreno more—no more'-
(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar !


And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams ;
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.


Hymn to Diana

QUEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair,

Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep :

Hesperus entreats thy light,

Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade

Dare itself to interpose ;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear, when day did close :

Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart

And thy crystal shining quiver ;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :

Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

County Guy
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 trillid all day,

Sits hush'd his partner nigh ;
Breeze, bird, and hower, confess the hour

But where is County Guy?
The village maid steals through the shade,

Her shepherd's suit to hear ;
To beauty shy, by lattice high,

Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above,

Now reigns o’er earth and sky ;
And high and low the influence know-
But where is County Guy?

SIR W. Scott.

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Gathering Song of Donald Dhu

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.
Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky,
The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy.

Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and

Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd,

The flock without shelter ;
Leave the corpse uninterr'd,

The bride at the altar ;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,

Leave nets and barges :
Come with your fighting gear,

Broadswords and targes.
Come as the winds come, when

Forests are rended;
Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded :
Faster come, faster come,

Faster and faster,
Chief, vassal, page and groom,

Tenant and master.
Fast they come, fast they come;

See how they gather !
Wide waves the eagle plume

Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set !
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Knell for the onset !


r The Destruction of Sennacherib
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

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