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LOCHINVAR.

45

LOCHINVAR.

O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best,
And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,

Among bride's-men and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word),
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

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LOCHINVAR.

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup;
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,—
“Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.”

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hail-door, and the charger stood near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, ánd scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

Sir W. Scott.

COME O'ER THE SEA.

47

COME O'ER THE SEA.

COME o'er the sea,

Maiden, with me,

Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows;
Seasons may roll,

But the true soul

Burns the same, where'er it goes.

Let fate frown on, so we love and part not; 'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou art not. Then come o'er the sea,

Maiden, with me,

Come wherever the wild wind blows;

Seasons may roll,

But the true soul

Burns the same, where'er it goes.

Was not the sea

Made for the free,

Land for courts and chains alone?

Here we are slaves,

But on the waves

Love and liberty's all our own.

No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us,
All earth forgot, and all heaven around us-
Then come o'er the sea,

Maiden, with me,

Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows;
Seasons may roll,

But the true soul

Burns the same, where'er it goes.

Thomas Moore.

48

JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

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:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen".

But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of 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 of 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 of Hazeldean.

THE YOUNG MAY MOON.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
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 of Hazeldean.

Sir W. Scott.

THE YOUNG MAY MOON.

THE Young May moon is beaming, love,
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love,
How sweet to rove

Through Morna's grove,

When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake!-the heavens look bright, my dear,
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear,
And the best of all ways

To lengthen our days

Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.

Now all the world is sleeping, love,

But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,
And I whose star,

More glorious far,

Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
Then awake!-till rise of sun, my dear,

The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear,

Or, in watching the flight

Of bodies of light,

He might happen to take thee for one, my dear.

Modern Poets.

T. Moore.

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