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The Lord of the Isles: Canto V.

I.
On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd
From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world.
And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd,
The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil,
Before the hut the dame her spindle twirl'd,
Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, -
For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.

But other duties call'd each convent maid,
Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell;
Sung were the matins, and the mass was said,
And every sister sought her separate cell,
Such was the rule, her rosary to tell.
And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer;
The sunbeam, through the narrow lattice, fell
Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair,
As stoop'd her gentle head in meek devotion there.

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto IV. - The Prophecy

I.
The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,
Emblem of hope and love through future years!'
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave,
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.

II.
Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray,
His axe and bow beside him lay,
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood
A wakeful sentinel he stood.
Hark!-on the rock a footstep rung,
And instant to his arms he sprung.

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto II. - The Island

I.
At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing,
'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,
All Nature's children feel the matin spring
Of life reviving, with reviving day;
And while yon little bark glides down the bay,
Wafting the stranger on his way again,
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain,
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!

II.
Song.

'Not faster yonder rowers' might
Flings from their oars the spray,
Not faster yonder rippling bright,
That tracks the shallop's course in light,
Melts in the lake away,
Than men from memory erase

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto III.

I.
Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has roll'd,
How when its echoes fell, a silence dead
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold?
The rye-glass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still,
The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold,
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill,
The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning hill.

II.
Artornish! such a silence sunk
Upon thy halls, when that grey Monk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
And his obedient brethren's sail
Was stretch'd to meet the southern gale
Before a whisper woke.
Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear,
Close pour'd in many an anxious ear,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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She has run out without hat from the house

Humoresque

He was passive, loved humility,
She loved a joyful life,
It caused in him anxiety,
And irritation could not it hidden …

She has wanted to play on a guitar,
The fine lady searched for an adventure,
The husband was disturbed, has begun to smoke a cigar,
Took from bank the big credit …

She has run out without a hat from the house,
Charm of the men, flaring dreams …
The husband 'has revolted', has run in a casino,
He has put all the credit, on colour of her plaid …

The destiny has played, the «'The passive'» has won,
He became similar to the skilled player …
About habits of the wife, laughed vulgarly,

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poem by Gioom Galen
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Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes

Chorus:
Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie dearie

As I gaed down the water-side,
There I met my shepherd lad:
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
And he ca'd me his dearie.
Chorus

Will ye gang down the water-side,
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
The moon it shines fu' clearly.
Chorus

Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,
Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,

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poem by Robert Burns
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Sealed By A Kiss 'Ode To Liz

Chances forsaken by the chance that I will miss
Signed verdict caste fate sealed with a kiss
Futures danced on the head of a needle
For I sir knight courting so feeble

Vivacious vixen adorned in black clothing
Dancing on air while she is walking
Beautiful Looks desiring first date
Promptly showing not too late

Ladders carried working so hard
Words spoken to the knight of Covington yard
Fine like wine to dine so exciting
Golden Germanic Goddess to me inspiring

Like broiled salmon with fixings and more
Interest peaked galore to explore
Lips so sweet with a tint of pink
Fermented tonic bottled I did drink

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poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Iva's Pantoum

We pace each other for a long time.
I packed my anger with the beef jerky.
You are the baby on the mountain. I am
in a cold stream where I led you.

I packed my anger with the beef jerky.
You are the woman sticking her tongue out
in a cold stream where I led you.
You are the woman with spring water palms.

You are the woman sticking her tongue out.
I am the woman who matches sounds.
You are the woman with spring water palms.
I am the woman who copies.

You are the woman who matches sounds.
You are the woman who makes up words.
You are the woman who copies
her cupped palm with her fist in clay.

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poem by Marilyn Hacker
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto 5 (excerpt)

"Have, then, thy wish!"--he whistled shrill,
And he was answer'd from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath,
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given.
Watching their leader's beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still.

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Plaid

Some will say its too late,
So dont change the story.
Theres too much at stake to grow.
Yesterday was so great,
Just bask in the glory.
Dont let your feelings show.
And I say,
Oh yeah like a man with condition
I wait for my heart to stop.
Stay down,
Got a plan hold that position.
You cant afford a flop.
Pack my suitcase
With my game face,
Take the same place,
And put away the dreams I had.
Let my hair grow,
Find some old clothes,
Let the world know
That my glory days were plaid.

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song performed by Chicago
Added by Lucian Velea
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