The better days of life were ours; The sun that cheers, the storm that lours, That all those charms have pass'd away I know not if I could have borne To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, Yet how much less it were to gain, The all of thine that cannot die And more thy buried love endears Lord Byron CCXLVII One word is too often profaned One feeling too falsely disdain'd I can give not what men call love; The worship the heart lifts above The devotion to something afar P. B. Shelley CCXLVIII GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil. Come away, come away, Come from deep glen, and Leave untended the herd, Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset ! Sir W. Scott CCXLIX A wet sheet and a flowing sea, And fills the white and rustling sail Away the good ship flies, and leaves O for a soft and gentle wind! But give to me the snoring breeze There's tempest in yon hornéd moon, The wind is piping loud, my boys, While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. A. Cunningham CCL Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again. To match another foe: And sweep through the deep, The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave For the deck it was their field of fame, Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; And the storm has ceased to blow. T. Campbell |