Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

BANNOCKBURN

ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY

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

Or to glorious victorie.

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower;

See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward! chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave ?

Traitor coward! turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or free-man fa' ? Caledonian! on wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall-they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!

THE MINSTREL-BOY

THE Minstrel-boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him.—
'Land of song!' said the warrior-bard,
'Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!'

The Minstrel fell!-but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said, 'No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!

Thy songs were made for the brave and free,

They shall never sound in slavery!'

THE FAREWELL

It was a' for our rightfu' King,
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We e'er saw Irish land,
My dear;

We e'er saw Irish land.

BURNS.

MOORE.

He turn'd him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore;

And gae his bridle-reins a shake,
With adieu for evermore,

My dear;

With adieu for evermore.

The sodger from the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main ;
But I hae parted frae my love,

Never to meet again,

My dear;

Never to meet again.

When day is gane, and night is come,
And a' folk bound to sleep;

I think on him that's far awa',
The lee-lang night, and weep,
My dear;

The lee-lang night, and weep.

BURNS.

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,
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright

The harp of Tara swells:

The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.

THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS 71

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,

The only throb she gives

Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.