FROM "OLD MORTALITY." 1816. MAJOR BELLENDEN'S SONG. AND what though winter will pinch severo MOTTOES. CHAP. V. AROUSE thee, youth!--it is no common call, God's Church is leaguer'd-haste to man the wall; Haste where the Red-cross banners wave on high, Through locks of grey and a cloak that's old, Signals of honour'd death or victory. Yet keep up thy heart, bold cavalier, For a cup of sack shall fence the cold. For time will rust the brightest blade, And years will break the strongest bow; Was never wight so starkly made, But time and years would overthrow? Chap. xix. THE LOCK OF HAIR. THY hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright, When first thy mystic braid was wove, Since then how often hast thou press'd The torrid zone of this wild breast, Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell With the first sin which peopled hell, A breast whose blood's a troubled ocean, CHAP. XIV. James Duff. My hounds may a' rin masterless, CHAP. XXXIV. Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! FROM "ROB ROY." 1817. Each throb the earthquake's wild commo- TO THE MEMORY OF EDWARD THE tion! O, if such clime thou canst endure, Of that fierce realm had Agnes wrought! Nor heaven nor earth could then reprove me, Not then this world's wild joys had been To me one savage hunting scene, My sole delight the headlong race, And frantic hurry of the chase; To start, pursue, and bring to bay. Rush in, drag down and rend my prey, Then-from the carcass turn away! Mine ireful mood had sweetness tamed, And soothed each wound which pride inflamed! Yes, God and man might now approve me, If thou hadst lived, and lived to love me. Chap. xxiii. EPITAPH ON BALFOUR OF BURLEY. HERE lyes ane saint to prelates surly, Did tak' James Sharpe the apostate's life; BLACK PRINCE. O FOR the voice of that wild horn, Had wrought his champion's fall. Sad over earth and ocean sounding, In Bourdeaux dying lay. "Raise my faint head, my squires," he said, "And let the casement be display'd, That I may see once more The splendour of the setting sun I glance like the wildfire through country and town; I'm seen on the causeway-I'm seen on the down; The lightning that flashes so bright and so free, Fulness to such a burthen is That go on pilgrimage; "As Jeanic entered, she heard first the air, and then a part of the chorus and words of what had been, perhaps, the song of a jolly What did ye wi' the bridal ring-bridal ring-harvest-home.' bridal ring? What did ye wi' your wedding ring, ye little cutty quean, O? I gied it till a sodger, a sodger, a sodger, I gied it till a sodger, an auld true love o' mine, O. " Our work is over-over now, The goodman wipes his weary brow, THE ORPHAN MAID. (Sung by Annot Lyle.) NOVEMBER'S hail-cloud drifts away, The orphan by the oak was set, Her arms, her feet, were bare; The hail-drops had not melted yet, Amid her raven hair. "And, dame," she said, "by all the ties The lady said, "An orphan's state "Twelve times the rolling year has sped, Of fierce Strathallan's chief I fled, "Twelve times the year its course has borne," Drew nets on Campsie side. "St. Bridget sent no scaly spoil; They saved, and rear'd in want and toil, That orphan maid the lady kiss'd,- |