FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   499   500   501   502   503   504   505   506   507   508   509   510   511   512   513   514   515   516   517   518   519   520   521   522   523  
524   525   526   527   528   529   530   531   532   533   534   535   536   537   538   539   540   541   542   543   544   545   546   547   548   >>   >|  
morn. The hemlock and the night-shade spring In garden and in grove; But oh! the upas of the soul Is unrequited love! Ah! lady, thine inconstancy Hath made my peace depart; The unwonted coldness of thine eye Hath froze thy lover's heart. Yet with the fibres of that heart Thine image dear is wove; Nor can they sever till I die Of unrequited love! THE FIRST OF MAY. AIR--_"The Braes of Balquhidder."_ Now the beams of May morn On the mountains are streaming, And the dews on the corn Are like diamond-drops gleaming; And the birds from the bowers Are in gladness ascending; And the breath of sweet flowers With the zephyrs is blending. And the rose-linnet's thrill, Overflowing with gladness, And the wood-pigeon's bill, Though their notes seem of sadness; And the jessamine rich Its soft tendrils is shooting, From pear and from peach The bright blossoms are sprouting. And the lambs on the lea Are in playfulness bounding, And the voice of the sea Is in harmony sounding; And the streamlet on high In the morning beam dances, For all Nature is joy As sweet summer advances. Then, my Mary, let 's stray Where the wild-flowers are glowing, By the banks of the Tay In its melody flowing; Thou shalt bathe in May-dew, Like a sweet mountain blossom, For 'tis bright like thy brow, And 'tis pure as thy bosom! SONG OF THE SCOTTISH EXILE. Oh! the sunny peaches glow, And the grapes in clusters blush; And the cooling silver streams From their sylvan fountains rush; There is music in the grove, And there 's fragrance on the gale; But there 's nought so dear to me As my own Highland vale. Oh! the queen-like virgin rose, Of the dew and sunlight born, And the azure violet, Spread their beauties to the morn; So does the hyacinth, And the lily pure and pale; But I love the daisy best In my own Highland vale. Hark! hark! those thrilling notes! 'Tis the nightingale complains; Oh! the soul of music breathes In those more than plaintive strains; But they 're not so dear to me As the murmur of the rill, And the bleating of the lambs On my own Highland hil
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   499   500   501   502   503   504   505   506   507   508   509   510   511   512   513   514   515   516   517   518   519   520   521   522   523  
524   525   526   527   528   529   530   531   532   533   534   535   536   537   538   539   540   541   542   543   544   545   546   547   548   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

Highland

 

gladness

 

flowers

 

bright

 

unrequited

 

mountain

 
blossom
 
peaches
 

SCOTTISH

 

strains


bleating

 
glowing
 

melody

 

flowing

 
murmur
 

thrilling

 

virgin

 
beauties
 

violet

 

sunlight


hyacinth

 

nought

 

streams

 
sylvan
 

silver

 
plaintive
 

clusters

 

Spread

 

cooling

 

fountains


fragrance

 

nightingale

 

complains

 

breathes

 

grapes

 

diamond

 

streaming

 

mountains

 

Balquhidder

 

garden


spring
 

hemlock

 

inconstancy

 

fibres

 

coldness

 

depart

 

unwonted

 

gleaming

 

playfulness

 

bounding