And thou wert aye a masquer bold : Dew-drops are the gems of Morning, That only serves to make us grieve ROBERT SOUTHEY. 1774-1843. THE HOLLY TREE. O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see The eye that contemplates it well perceives Order'd by an intelligence so wise As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen Wrinkled and keen: No grazing cattle through their prickly round But as they grow where nothing is to fear I love to view these things with curious eyes, And in this wisdom of the Holly Tree Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhyme, Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear To those who on my leisure would intrude Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be And as, when all the summer trees are seen The Holly leaves their fadeless hues display But when the bare and wintry woods we see So, serious should my youth appear among That in my age as cheerful I might be THE SCHOLAR. My days among the Dead are pass'd Where'er these casual eyes are cast, My never-failing friends are they, With them I take delight in weal, And while I understand and feel My cheeks have often been bedew'd My thoughts are with the Dead: with them Their virtues love, their faults condemn, And from their lessons seek and find My hopes are with the Dead; anon Through all futurity: Yet leaving here a name, I trust, ROBERT TANNAHILL. 1774-1810. LOVE'S FEAR. O sair I rue the witless wish That gart me gang wi' you at e'en ! And sair I rue the birken bush That screen'd us with its leaves sae green! And though you vow'd you would be mine, The tear of grief aye dims my ee, For O I'm fear'd that I may tine The love that ye hae promised me While others seek their evening sports, Their daffin' gie's me mickle pain. When a' my nights were spent wi' glee: But O I'm fear'd that I may tine The love that ye hae promised me. Dear Lassie! keep thy heart aboon, To be a bridal gift for thee. And sooner shall the hills fa' down, And mountain high shall stand the sea, Ere I'd accept a gowden crown To change that love I bear for thee. MINE AIN DEAR SOMEBODY. When gloaming treads the heels of day, And birds sit cowering on the spray, Alang the flowery hedge I stray To meet mine ain dear Somebody. The scented briar, the fragrant bean, To meet mine ain dear Somebody. Let warriors prize the hero's name! Obscurely bless'd wi' Somebody. SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1771-1832. THE CLAN-GATHERING. Pibroch of Donuil Dhu! Pibroch of Donuil ! Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky! True heart that wears one! Leave untended the herd, Come, as the winds come when Forests are rended! Come, as the waves come when Navies are stranded! Faster come! faster come! |