Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are 258 O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde 249 Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story 111 Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North 211 On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune ye to rest . 109 On Linden, when the sun was low 36 Orpheus with his lute made trees Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd O, wert thou in the cauld blast O where have you been, my long, long love O, young Lochinvar is come out of the West 77 27 61 . 102 45 Sing Erlington and Cowdenknowes where Homes had ance com- Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king So, we'll go no more a roving Tell me not (sweet) I am unkind. 67 That day of wrath, that dreadful day The Abbot arose, and closed his book 94 That way look, my Infant, lo! The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 273 . 334 82 . 280 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day The day is done, and the darkness The dews of summer night did fall The glories of our blood and state The harp that once through Tara's halls PAGE . 300 . 200 260 . 106 The mountain sheep are sweeter The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade The sun descending in the west 187 50 95 138 5 They shot him dead on the Nine-Stone Rig 111 This ae nighte, this ae nighte 333 This is the month, and this the happy morn ..305 79 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame 161 When the voices of children are heard on the green While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray Whither, 'midst falling dew. PAGE . 85 Ye Mariners of England Yesterday was brave Hallowday Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more 25 64 22 329 . 293 . 175 |