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Sir Walter Scott's Poetry, by title

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  • Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh
    The sun has left the lea,
    17 lines, 1 comment
  • An hour with thee! When earliest day
    Dapples with gold the eastern gray,
    21 lines
  • Birds of omen dark and foul,
    Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl
    36 lines
  • Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
    To all the sensual world proclaim,
    4 lines, 3 comments
  • As lords their labourers' hire delay,
    Fate quits our toil with hopes to come,
    8 lines
  • From a rude isle, his ruder lineage came.
        The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearth
    49 lines
  • To the Lords of Convention 'twas Clavers who spoke.
    'Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke;
    71 lines
  • Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
    Who never to himself hath said,
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
    And Greta woods are green,
    69 lines
  • The Abbot on the threshold stood,
    And in his hand the holy rood:
    76 lines
  • When princely Hamilton's abode
    Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers,
    201 lines
  • The glowing censers, and their rich perfume;
    The splendid vestments, and the sounding choir;
    31 lines
  • Farewell to Northmaven,
    Grey Hillswicke, farewell!
    32 lines
  • From Appendix I of 1st Edition.
    This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
    37 lines
  • Farewell! Farewell! the voice you hear,
    Has left its last soft tone with you,--
    16 lines
  • He is gone on the mountain,
    He is lost to the forest,
    25 lines
  • The sun upon the lake is low,
    The wild birds hush their song,
    26 lines
  • Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
    \Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?\
    12 lines
  • Viewless essence, thin and bare,
    Well nigh melted into air,
    23 lines
  • Donald Caird can lilt and sing,
    Blithely dance the Hieland fling
    65 lines
  • Where shall the lover rest
    Whom the fates sever
    43 lines, 1 comment
  • The herring loves the merry moon-light,
    The mackerel loves the wind,
    52 lines
  • Enchantress, farewell, who so oft hast decoy'd me,
    At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam,
    24 lines, 1 comment
  • There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale,
    But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael.
    60 lines
  • Tho' right be aft put down by strength,
        As mony a day we saw that,
    50 lines
  • Frederick leaves the land of France,
    Homeward hastes his steps to measure,
    88 lines
  • Dust unto dust,
    To this all must;
    17 lines
  • Pibroch of Donail Dhu
    Pibroch of Donuil,
    43 lines
  • "O hone a rie'! O hone a rie!"
    The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
    264 lines
  • Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,
    On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
    29 lines
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