Christmas Weather in Scotland. 211 What singing of Lang Syne till tear-drops shine, And friendships brighten as the evening wanes! David Gray. SIR GALAHAD. When on my goodly charger borne The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow. The tempest crackles on the leads And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving hail. Lord Tennyson. |