Sir Walter Scott

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.

Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes read more

Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.

He who repents of his fault is almost guiltless.

He who repents of his fault is almost guiltless.

Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the read more

Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou are gone, and for ever!

It is the fault of youth that it cannot restrain its own
impetuosity.

It is the fault of youth that it cannot restrain its own
impetuosity.