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,
  Land of my sires! what mortal hand
  Can e’er untie the filial band
  That knits me to thy rugged strand? 
  Still, as I view each well-known scene,
  Think what is now, and what hath been,
  Seems as, to me, of all bereft
  Sole friends thy woods and streams are left: 
  And thus I love them better still
  Even in extremity of ill. 
  By Yarrow’s stream still let me stray,
  Though none should guide my feeble way
  Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
  Although it chill my withered cheek;
  Still lay my head by Teviot’s stone,
  Though there, forgotten and alone,
  The bard may draw his parting groan.

SUNSET ON THE BORDER.

[From Marmion.]

  Day set on Norham’s castled steep
  And Tweed’s fair river, broad and deep,
    And Cheviot’s mountains lone: 
  The battled towers, the donjon keep,
  The loop-hole grates where captives
  The flanking walls that round it sweep,
    In yellow luster shone. 
  The warriors on the turrets high,
  Moving athwart the evening sky
    Seemed forms of giant height: 
  Their armor; as it caught the rays,
  Flashed back again the western blaze,
    In lines of dazzling light.

  St. George’s banner, broad and gay,
  Now faded, as the fading ray
    Less bright, and less was flung;
  The evening gale had scarce the power
  To wave it on the donjon tower,
    So heavily it hung. 
  The scouts had parted on their search,
    The castle gates were barred;
  Above the gloomy portal arch,
  Timing his footsteps to a march,
    The warden kept his guard;
  Low humming, as he passed along,
  Some ancient border-gathering song.

PROUD MAISIE.

  Proud Maisie is in the wood
    Walking so early;
  Sweet Robin sits on the bush
    Singing so rarely.

  “Tell me, thou bonny bird,
    When shall I marry me?”
  —­“When six braw[184] gentlemen
    Kirkward shall carry ye.”

  “Who makes the bridal bed,
    Birdie, say truly?”
  “The gray-headed sexton
    That delves the grave duly.

  “The glow-worm o’er grave and stone
    Shall light thee steady;
  The owl from the steeple sing
    Welcome, proud lady.”

[Footnote 184:  Brave, fine.]

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil,
  Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan-Conuil. 
  Come away, come away, hark to the summons! 
  Come in your war array, gentles and commons.

  Come from deep glen and from mountain so rocky,
  The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlochy. 
  Come every hill-plaid and true heart that wears one,
  Come every steel blade and strong hand that bears one.