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Angel auld lang syne Auld Robin Gray beam beauty blessed bloom bosom boys bright brow chatter cheek cold Cousin Jane days of auld dear death door dream eyes faded Father William fear flowers Frae friends gentle gone Goody Blake grandmother grave Gray hairs gray old grief growing old hand happy harp Harry Gill hath head hear heart Heaven holy Jamie knee life's light live look MAN-AT-ARMS minstrel mother mother's kiss mourn neath never night o'er OLD AGE old English gentleman old familiar faces OLD MAN'S olden Perilla Pilgrim Society poor pray psalm quoth the gray rose round scene sigh silent silver streak sing smile songs of auld songs our fathers sorrow soul stars sweet tears tell thee There's thou hast Tommy's dead tree Twas wandering weary wind window binding shoes wrinkled young Young Harry youth
Page 48 - 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 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...
Page 111 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 23 - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a Love once, fairest among women : Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her — All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Page 46 - Though born in such a high degree ; In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb ! When kindness had his wants supplied, And the old man was gratified, Began to rise his minstrel pride ; And he began to talk anon, Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, And of Earl Walter...
Page 59 - I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone.
Page 4 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 106 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
Page 42 - CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne.
Page 95 - No word to any man he utters, A-bed or up, to young or old ; But ever to himself he mutters, " Poor Harry Gill is very cold." A-bed or up, by night or day ; His teeth they chatter, chatter still, Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, Of Goody Blake and Harry GilL I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills.
Page 50 - SWEET TEVIOT ! on thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more ; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willowed 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 rolled upon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed, Nor started at the bugle-horn.