CXXIII LORD ULLINS DAUGHTER A chieftain to the Highlands bound 'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?' 'O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. '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 In danger shall not tarry : 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 the stormy land, And still they row'd amidst the roar Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore ; His wrath was changed to wailing. 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, '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 CXXIV THE SEA To sea! to sea! the calm is o'er, To sea! to sea! our white winged bark T. L. Beddoes CXXV FIDELITY A barking sound the shepherd hears, A cry as of a dog or fox; He halts, and searches with his eye And now at distance can discern The dog is not of mountain breed ; Nor is there any one in sight All round, in hollow or on height; It was a cove, a huge recess, That keeps, till June, December's snow; A lofty precipice in front, A silent tarn below; Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, Remote from public road or dwelling, From trace of human foot or hand. There sometimes doth a leaping fish Thither the rainbow comes, the cloud-- Not free from boding thoughts, awhile O'er rocks and stones, following the dog Nor far had gone before he found From those abrupt and perilous rocks He instantly recalled the name, And who he was, and whence he came; On which the traveller passed that way. But here a wonder for whose sake A lasting monument of words This wonder merits well. The dog, which still was hovering nigh, Repeating the same timid cry, This dog had been through three months' space A dweller in that savage place. Yes, proof was plain that since the day When this ill-fated traveller died, The dog had watch'd about the spot, Or by his master's side: How nourished there through that long time, He knows who gave that love sublime; And gave that strength of feeling great, Above all human estimate. W. Wordsworth |