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Sir Walter Scott
1771 - 1832
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A Serenade
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh / The sun has left the lea, / The orange-flower perfumes the bower,
An Hour With Thee
An hour with thee! When earliest day / Dapples with gold the eastern gray, / Oh, what can frame my mind to bear
Ancient Gaelic Melody
I. / Birds of omen dark and foul, / Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl,
Anna-Marie, Love, Up Is The Sun
Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun, / Anna-Marie, love, morn is begun, / Mists are dispersing, love, birds singing free,
Answer
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! / To all the sensual world proclaim, / One crowded hour of glorious life
As Lords Their Labourers' Hire Delay
As lords their labourers' hire delay, / Fate quits our toil with hopes to come, / Which, if far short of present pay,
Bonaparte
From a rude isle, his ruder lineage came. / The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearth / Ascending, wraps some capital in flame,
Bonny Dundee
To the Lords of Convention 'twas Clavers who spoke. / 'Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; / So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me,
Border Ballad
March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, / Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order! / March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,
Breathes There The Man... From The Lay Of The Last Minstrel
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, / Who never to himself hath said, / "This is my own, my native land!"
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