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No motion has she now, no force ;

She neither hears nor sees ;
Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

W. WORDSWORTH.

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181 LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER A Chieftain to the Highlands bound

Cries - Boatman, do not tarry !
And I'll give thee a silver pound

To row us o'er the ferry!'
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

Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather. His horsemen hard behind us ride

Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride

When they have slain her lover ? 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 heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.

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But still as wilder blew the wind
And as the night grew drearer,

30 Adown the glen rode arméd men,

Their trampling sounded nearer. • O haste thee, haste !' the lady cries,

Though 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.

40 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.
For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade
His child he did discover :

46 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 !—0 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

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JOCK O' HAZELDEAN
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie ?

Why weep ye by the tide ?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,

And ye sall be his bride :

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And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen
But aye she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock O' Hazeldean.
Now let this wilfu' grief be done,

And dry that cheek so pale ;
Young Frank is chief of Errington

And lord of Langley-dale ;
His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen'
But aye she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock o' Hazeldean.
A chain of gold ye sall not lack,

Nor braid to bind your hair ;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair ;
And you, the foremost o' them a’,

Shall ride our forest queen
But aye she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock o' Hazeldean.
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 25

The tapers glimmer'd fair ;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,

And dame and knight are there.
They sought her baith by bower and ha';

The ladie was not seen !
She's o'er the Border, and awa'
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean.

SIR W. SCOTT.

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FREEDOM AND LOVE
How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love's beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there's no untying !

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Yet remember, ’midst your wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing ;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle
Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries ;
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
Or the ringdove's neck from changing ?
No! nor fetter'd Love from dying
In the knot there's no untying.

T. CAMPBELL.

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LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY
The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,
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-

Why not I with thine ?
See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another ;
No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdain'd its brother :

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And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea-
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me ?

P. B. SHELLEY.

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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 !

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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.

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'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.

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A SERENADE
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,

The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,

The breeze is on the sea.
The lark, his lay who trill'd all day,

Sits hush'd his partner nigh ;
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,

But where is County Guy ?

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