Young Lochinvar O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the West! He stay❜d not for brake and he stopp'd not for stone; The bride had consented, the gallant came late ; So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all ;- 'I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied So stately his form, and so lovely her face, One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall 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, and 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 lea, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? SIR W. SCOTT. The Wreck of the Hesperus IT was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, The skipper he stood beside the helm, And watch'd how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old sailòr, 'I pray thee, put into yonder port, 'Last night, the moon had a golden ring, The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the North-east ; The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain She shudder'd and paused, like a frighted steed, 'Come hither! come hither! my little daughtèr, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale He wrapp'd her warm in his seaman's coat He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast. O father! I hear the church-bells ring, "Tis a fog-bell, on a rock-bound coast!'. O father! I hear the sound of guns, O father! I see a gleaming light, But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he. Lash'd to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming On his fix'd and glassy eyes. snow Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be ; And she thought of Christ, who stilled the waves On the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear, And ever the fitful gusts between The breakers were right beneath her bows, And a whooping billow swept the crew She struck where the white and fleecy waves But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, At day-break, on the bleak sea-beach. To see the form of a maiden fair Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair like the brown sea-weed Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! H. W. LONGfellow. The Dog and the Water-lily THE noon was shady, and soft airs When, 'scaped from literary cares, My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs adorn'd with every grace That spaniel found for me,) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains But with a cherup clear and strong I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd; The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd |