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Article IMPROMPTU, Page 1 of 1 Article LAYS OF AN IDLE HOUR. Page 1 of 1 Article SONG, Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Impromptu,
IMPROMPTU ,
By Brother J . LEE STEVENS , turitten during the proceedings of the Especial Grand Lodge , on the 30 th of October , 1840 . Not harshly judge , whate ' er it be , That claims consideration ;—The consequences all may see , Though few the provocation .
Lays Of An Idle Hour.
LAYS OF AN IDLE HOUR .
How sweet is the calm of the dead . How soft their repose as they sleep ; The eye hath no tear-drop to shed , The heart not one sorrow to weep . What is beauty ? what honour ? what Fame ' s fleeting breath ? When compared to thy slumber—oh ! beautiful death . With thee every passion and ill
, Each tempest of feeling is o ' er ; Hearts falsehood hath broken are still , Their pulse beat with anguish no more , What is beauty ? what honour ? what Fame ' s fleeting breath ? When compared to thy slumber—oh ! beautiful death . J . F . SMITH
Song,
SONG ,
BY ROBERT QILFILLAN . O 1 strike the wild harp , and its chords let them swell , The deeds and the fame of our fathers to tell , When red was the fight—by land or by sea , They fought as the brave , or fell as the free ! They crouch'd not from danger , they shrunk not from pain , When bold hearts
were needed our freedom to gain ; The watchword was still , and it ever shall be—To fight as the brave , or fall as the free ! They join'd heart to heart , and they link'd hand to hand . Together to fall , or together to stand ; And woe to the foe who had courage to dare , When swords flash'd revenge , and eyes struck despair .
Old Scotland ! loved country—our own native land , May Peace guard thy mountains and Freedom thy strand , But war let it come , or by land or by sea , We ' ll fight like our fathers , or fall as the free !
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Impromptu,
IMPROMPTU ,
By Brother J . LEE STEVENS , turitten during the proceedings of the Especial Grand Lodge , on the 30 th of October , 1840 . Not harshly judge , whate ' er it be , That claims consideration ;—The consequences all may see , Though few the provocation .
Lays Of An Idle Hour.
LAYS OF AN IDLE HOUR .
How sweet is the calm of the dead . How soft their repose as they sleep ; The eye hath no tear-drop to shed , The heart not one sorrow to weep . What is beauty ? what honour ? what Fame ' s fleeting breath ? When compared to thy slumber—oh ! beautiful death . With thee every passion and ill
, Each tempest of feeling is o ' er ; Hearts falsehood hath broken are still , Their pulse beat with anguish no more , What is beauty ? what honour ? what Fame ' s fleeting breath ? When compared to thy slumber—oh ! beautiful death . J . F . SMITH
Song,
SONG ,
BY ROBERT QILFILLAN . O 1 strike the wild harp , and its chords let them swell , The deeds and the fame of our fathers to tell , When red was the fight—by land or by sea , They fought as the brave , or fell as the free ! They crouch'd not from danger , they shrunk not from pain , When bold hearts
were needed our freedom to gain ; The watchword was still , and it ever shall be—To fight as the brave , or fall as the free ! They join'd heart to heart , and they link'd hand to hand . Together to fall , or together to stand ; And woe to the foe who had courage to dare , When swords flash'd revenge , and eyes struck despair .
Old Scotland ! loved country—our own native land , May Peace guard thy mountains and Freedom thy strand , But war let it come , or by land or by sea , We ' ll fight like our fathers , or fall as the free !