Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. | XVIII.
Scottish National Melody.
|
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XVIII.
Scottish National Melody.
Let Italy boast of her bloom-shaded waters,
Her bowers, and her vines, and her warm sunny skies;
Her sons drinking love from the eyes of her daughters,
While freedom expires amidst softness and sighs:—
Scotland's bleak mountains wild,
Where hoary cliffs are piled,
Towering in grandeur, are dearer to me;
Land of the misty cloud,
Land of the tempest loud,
Land of the brave and proud, land of the free.
Her bowers, and her vines, and her warm sunny skies;
Her sons drinking love from the eyes of her daughters,
While freedom expires amidst softness and sighs:—
Scotland's bleak mountains wild,
Where hoary cliffs are piled,
Towering in grandeur, are dearer to me;
Land of the misty cloud,
Land of the tempest loud,
Land of the brave and proud, land of the free.
Enthroned on the peak of the dark Highland mountain,
The spirit of Scotland reigns fearless and free;
Her tartan-folds waving o'er blue lake and fountain,
Exulting she sings, looking over the sea,—
“Here 'mong my mountains wild
I have serenely smiled,
While armies and empires against me were hurled;
Firm as my native rocks,
Calmly sustained the shocks
Of Denmark, and Cæsar, and Rome, and the World.
The spirit of Scotland reigns fearless and free;
Her tartan-folds waving o'er blue lake and fountain,
Exulting she sings, looking over the sea,—
“Here 'mong my mountains wild
I have serenely smiled,
141
Firm as my native rocks,
Calmly sustained the shocks
Of Denmark, and Cæsar, and Rome, and the World.
“When kings of the nations in council assemble,
The frown of my brow makes their proud hearts to quake,
The flash of mine eye makes the bravest to tremble,
The sound of my war song makes armies to shake.
France long shall mind the strain,
Sung on her bloody plain,
Made Europe's bold armies with terror to shiver!—
Shrouded in fire and blood,
Then sung the pibroch loud,
‘Dying but unsubdued—Scotland for ever!’
The frown of my brow makes their proud hearts to quake,
The flash of mine eye makes the bravest to tremble,
The sound of my war song makes armies to shake.
France long shall mind the strain,
Sung on her bloody plain,
Made Europe's bold armies with terror to shiver!—
Shrouded in fire and blood,
Then sung the pibroch loud,
‘Dying but unsubdued—Scotland for ever!’
“See at the war-note my proud horses prancing,
Deep groves of steel trodden down in their path;
The eyes of the brave like their bright swords are glancing,
Triumphantly riding through ruin and death!
Bold hearts and nodding plumes
Dance o'er their bloody tombs—
Shining in blood is the bright tartan's wave—
Dire is the horseman's wheel,
Shivering the ranks of steel—
Victor in battle-field is Scotland the brave!”
Deep groves of steel trodden down in their path;
The eyes of the brave like their bright swords are glancing,
Triumphantly riding through ruin and death!
Bold hearts and nodding plumes
Dance o'er their bloody tombs—
Shining in blood is the bright tartan's wave—
Dire is the horseman's wheel,
Shivering the ranks of steel—
Victor in battle-field is Scotland the brave!”
| Poems by James Hyslop | |