And new-born baby died; But things like that, you know, must be IX. "They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun; But things like that, you know, must be X. "Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." Why 'twas a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay.. nay . . my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory. XI. "And every body praised the Duke Quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I cannot tell," said he, "But 'twas a famous victory." MY DAYS AMONG THE DEAD ARE PAST (Written at Keswick, 1818) I. My days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; II. With them I take delight in weal, And while I understand and feel My cheeks have often been bedew'd III. My thoughts are with the Dead; with them I live in long-past years; Their virtues love, their faults condemn, And from their lessons seek and find IV. My hopes are with the Dead; anon Terough all Futurity: Yet leaving here a name, I trust, Joseph Blanco White 1775-1841 SONNET TO NIGHT (First published 1828) Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew Within thy beams, O Sun! or who divined Whilst bud, and flower, and insect stood revealed, Thou to such countless worlds hadst made us blind? Why should we, then, shun death with anxious strife, If Light conceals so much, wherefore not Life? Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 HAROLD'S SONG TO ROSABELLE (From Lay of the Last Minstrel) CANTO VI.-XXIII. (1805) O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. "Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. "The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. "Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shrowd swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch : Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?" "Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir To-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall. ""Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, O'er Roslin all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie, Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply. Seem'd all on fire within, arcund, Deep sacristy and altar's pale; Shone every pillar foliage-bound, And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair- There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle! And each St. Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. BALLAD ALICE BRAND (From The Lady of the Lake, 1810) CANTO IV. XII. Merry it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing. "O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you; And we must hold by wood and wold, |