The lay of the last minstrel. With notes [&c.].

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Side 126 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood...
Side 30 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Side 126 - This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored,...
Side 126 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand ! If such there breathe, go, mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And,...
Side 9 - Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, Waited the beck of the warders ten ; Thirty steeds, both fleet and wight, Stood saddled in stable day and night, Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow, And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow ; A hundred more fed free in stall : — Such was the custom of Branksome Hall.
Side 139 - And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St Clair.
Side 16 - In Eske or Liddel, fords were none, But he would ride them, one by one ; Alike to him was time or tide, December's snow, or July's pride ; Alike to him was tide or time, Moonless midnight, or matin prime : Steady of heart, and stout of hand, As ever drove prey from Cumberland ; Five times outlawed had he been, By England's King, and Scotland's Queen.
Side 4 - Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry. For, well-a-day! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead ; •And he, neglected and oppressed...
Side 74 - SWEET Teviot ! on thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willow'd shore; Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, since Time was born, Since first they roll'd upon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed, Nor started at the bugle-horn.
Side 54 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed ; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed ; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

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