No! for, 'mid storms of Fate opposing, Still higher swell'd thy dauntless heart, And, while Despair the scene was closing, Commenced thy brief but brilliant part. 'Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill And unsubdued though unrefined. Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail, Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs GLEE FOR KING CHARLES From Woodstock BRING the bowl which you boast, Brave gallants, stand up, And avaunt, ye base carles! Were there death in the cup, Here's a health to King Charles! Though he wanders through dangers, Dependent on strangers, Estranged from his own; Though 'tis under our breath, And a health to King Charles! Let such honours abound As the time can afford, And the hand on the sword; But the time shall come round, When, 'mid Lords, Dukes, and Earls, The loud trumpets shall sound Here's a health to King Charles! MAJOR BELLENDEN'S SONG From Old Mortality AND what though winter will pinch severe Through locks of grey and a cloak that's old, 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 ! "Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly ? ”— "The grey-headed sexton That delves the grave duly. "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone LUCY ASHTON'S SONG From The Bride of Lammermoor Look not thou on beauty's charming,— "TWIST YE, TWINE YE" From Guy Mannering (MEG MERRILIES' SONG) TWIST ye, twine ye! even so, Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife, In the thread of human life. Whilst the mystic twist is spinning, Passions wild, and follies vain, Now they wax, and now they dwindle, YOUTH AND AGE From Waverley YOUNG men will love thee more fair and more fast; And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing. The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire; But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire, And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing. The young man will brawl at the evening board; But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, FALSE LOVE From Waverley FALSE love, and hast thou play'd me this In summer among the flowers? I will repay thee back again As you with other maidens rove, REBECCA'S HYMN From Ivanhoe WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, An awful guide in smoke and flame. There rose the choral hymn of praise, Forsaken Israel wanders lone: Our fathers would not know THY ways, And THOU hast left them to their own. But present still, though now unseen! And oh, when stoops on Judah's path Our harps we left by Babel's streams, And mute are timbrel, harp, and horn. |