SONGS

OF

LIVING LYRIC POETS.

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,

Wake thy wild voice anew,

Summon Clan Conuil.

Come away, come away,

Hark to the summons!

Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;

The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill plaid, and

True heart that wears one;

Come every steel blade, and

Strong hand that bears one.

Fast they come, fast they come;

See how they gather : Wide waves the eagle plume,

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set;

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Now for the onset!

HOHENLINDEN.

THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And, furious, every charger neigh'd
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills, with thunder riv'n;
Then rush'd the steed, to battle driv❜n;
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.

2

But redder yet that light shall glow,
On Linden's hills of stained snow;
And bloodier yet the torrent flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.