"And fast before her father's men "His horsemen hard behind us ride- Out spoke the hardy Highland wight "And by my word! the bonny bird So though the waves are raging white I'll row you o'er the ferry." By this the storm grew loud apace, But still as wilder blew the wind "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, When, O! too strong for human hand The tempest gather'd o'er her. And still they row'd amidst the roar Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,— For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade His child he did discover : One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, And one was round her lover. "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "Across this stormy water : And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter!-O my daughter!" 'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore, : Return or aid preventing : The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. T. CAMPBELL. 182. JOCK O' HAZELDEAN. "Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? But aye she loot the tears doon fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean. "Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; His step is first in peaceful ha', "A chain of gold ye sall not lack, And you the foremost o' them a' Shall ride our forest queen But aye she loot the tears down fa' The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, The tapers glimmer'd fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, She's o'er the Border, and awa' Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean. SIR W. SCOTT. 183. FREEDOM AND LOVE. How delicious is the winning Yet remember, 'midst your wooing, Love he comes, and Love he tarries, Longest stays, when sorest chidden; Laughs and flies, when press'd and bidden. Bind the sea to slumber stilly, Bind its odour to the lily, Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to last for ever. Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel: Love's wing moults when caged and captured, Only free, he soars enraptured. Can you keep the bee from ranging In the knot there's no untying. T. CAMPBELL. 184. LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY. The fountains mingle with the river The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle- See the mountains kiss high heaven And the sunlight clasps the earth, 185. ECHOES. How sweet the answer Echo makes To Music at night When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away o'er lawns and lakes Goes answering light! Yet Love hath echoes truer far And far more sweet Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute or soft guitar The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh,-in youth sincere And only then, The sigh that's breathed for one to hear→→→ Is by that one, that only Dear Breathed back again.-T. Moore. 186. A SERENADE. Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The lark, his lay who trill'd all day, Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour. The village maid steals through the shade To Beauty shy, by lattice high, The star of Love, all stars above, Now reigns o'er earth and sky, And high and low the influence know But where is County Guy?-SIR W. SCOTT. |