Sir Walter Scott ( 6 of 46 )
What skilful limner e'er would choose
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were read more
What skilful limner e'er would choose
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were given
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?
St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more
St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"
And honeysuckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall.
And honeysuckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall.
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet read more
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good Thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry read more
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
