#ScottishWriters
Not Jason nor Medea wise, I crave to see, nor win much lore, Nor list to Orpheus’ minstrelsies… Nor Her’cles would I see, that o’… The wide world roamed from shore t…
A pleasant land is Scribie, where The light comes mostly from below, And seems a sort of symbol rare Of things at large, and how they g… In rooms where doors are everywher…
The gypsies came to our good lord’… And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very c… That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the sta…
When captaines couragious, whom de… Did march to the siege of the citt… They mustred their souldiers by tw… And the formost in battle was Mar… When [the] brave sergeant-major wa…
Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a’ day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was se… They had not talkt their fill. Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
Of all the lords in faire Scotlan… A song I will begin: Amongst them all dwelled a lord Which was the unthrifty Lord of L… His father and mother were dead hi…
Apollo left the golden Muse And shepherded a mortal’s sheep, Theocritus of Syracuse! To mock the giant swain that woo’s The sea-nymph in the sunny deep,
Thine eyes are like the sea, my de… The wand’ring waters, green and gr… Thine eyes are wonderful and clear… And deep, and deadly, even as they… The spirit of the changeful sea
HERE I 'd come when weariest! Here the breast Of the Windberg’s tufted over Deep with bracken; here his crest Takes the west,
(FOUNDED ON A NEW ZEAL… In the Morning of Time, when his… How bleak, how un-Greek, was the… From his wigwam, if ever he ventur… There was nobody waiting to welcom…
Down by yon garden green, Sae merrily as she gaes; She has twa weel-made feet, And she trips upon her taes. She has twa weel-made feet;
Dead—he is dead! The rouge has le… On that thin cheek where shone, pe… Even while the people laughed that… But yesterday. He died,—and not i… And many a black-robed caitiff sta…
SAY, fair maids, maying In gardens green, In deep dells straying, What end hath been Two Mays between
The wail of Moschus on the mounta… The Muses heard, and loved it lon… They heard the hollows of the hill… They heard the weeping water’s ove… They winged the sacred strain—the…
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe… Dead, with the foe at their feet; Under the sky laid low Truly their slumber is sweet, Though the wind from the Camp of…