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Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye ;
Nor yet find leave to die !!
'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
Though the birds have stilld their singing ; The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands, And as he cross'd and bless'd himself, • I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf,
· That is made with bloody hands.' But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear,"And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer.'
It cleaves unto his hand,
The blood of Ethert Brand.'
And made the holy sign,-
A spotless hand is mine.
By Him whom Demons fear,
And what thine errand here?
-“ 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land,
When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
With bit and bridle ringing :
* And gaily shines the Fairy-land
But all is glistening show,
Can dart on ice and snow.
Is our inconstant shape,
And now like dwarf and ape.
When the Fairy King has power,
To the joyless Elfin bower.
Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould,
As fair a form as thine.'
That lady was so brave;
The darker grew the cave.
-He rose beneath her hand
Her brother, Ethert Brand !
When the mavis and merle are singing ; But merrier were they in Dumfermline gray When all the bells were ringing.
SIR W. Scott.
O, wert thou in the cauld blast
O, WERT thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee.
Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
To share it a', to share it a'.
Of earth and air, of earth and air,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
I dearly like the west,
The lassie I lo'e best :
And monie a hill between ;
Is ever wi' my Jean.
I see her sweet and fair ;
I hear her charm the air :
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There'll never be Peace till Jamie
By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,
The church is in ruins, the state is in jars,
The Banks o' Doon
YE flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair !
And I sae fu' o' care.
Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough;
When my fause luve was true.
That sings beside thy mate;
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
To see the woodbine twine,
And sae did I o mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae off its thorny tree;
As Slow our Ship
Against the wind was cleaving,
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
From all the links that bind us ;
To those we've left behind us !
We talk, with joyous seeming, With smiles, that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming ;
Each early tie that twined us,
To those we've left behind us !
Some isle or vale enchanting, Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting ; We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heaven had but assigned us To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us ! As travellers oft look back, at eve,
When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing,– So, when the close of pleasure's
To gloom hath near consigned us, We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us.
A red, red Rose
O, MY luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June :
That's sweetly play'd in tune.