Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,

Scarce winds and waves had ceased to rattle, When a bold enemy appear'd,

And, dauntless, we prepared for battle. And now, while some loved friend or wife, Like lightning rush'd on every fancy, To Providence I trusted life,

Put up a prayer, and thought of Nancy!

At last, 'twas in the month of May,-
The crew, it being lovely weather,
At three A.M. discover'd day,

And England's chalky cliffs together.
At seven, up channel how we bore,

While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy; At twelve I gaily jump'd ashore,

And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy!

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief- I'm ready.
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:

"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, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heav'n each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Thongh tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,-

When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd, amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing.

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

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!-oh my daughter!”

'Twas rain:-the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing:

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

A BABY was sleeping, its mother was weeping,
For her husband was far on the wild raging sea;

And the tempest was swelling round the fisherman's dwelling,
And she cried, "Dermot, darling, oh! come back to me."

Her beads while she number'd, the baby still slumber'd, And smiled in her face while she bended her knee: "Oh! bless'd be that warning, my child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whisp'ring with thee.

And while they are keeping bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh! pray to them softly, my baby, with me,

And say thou wouldst rather they'd watch'd o'er thy father, For I know that the angels are whisp'ring with thee."

The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning,

And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see, And closely caressing her child, with a blessing,

Said, "I knew that the angels were whisp'ring with thee."