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Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I sw
From my home and my weeping friends never to part : My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb’d aloud in her fulness of heart.
Stay, stay with us — rest, thou art weary and worn :
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound,
Cries, “ Boatman, do not tarry!
To row us o'er the ferry.”
“ Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water!”– “Oh, 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
My blood would stain the heather.
His horsemen hard behind us ride ;
Should they our steps discover,
When they have slain her lover ?”.
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight
" I'll go, my chief — I'm ready :It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady :
In danger shall not tarry;
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.
66 Oh 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, -
The tempest gather'd o'er her. —
And still they row'd amidst the roar,
Of waters fast prevailing:
For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover :
And one was round her lover.
“Come back! come back ! ” he cried in grief,
Across this stormy water :
My daughter ! - oh my daughter!”
'Twas vain : the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return or aid preventing :-
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
" I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied :
The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up,
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
There was mounting ʼmong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
THE IRISH EMIGRANT.
I'm sitting on the style, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
When first you were my bride.
And the lark sang loud and high, And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.
The place is little changed, Mary,
The day as bright as then,
And the corn is green again !
And your breath warm on my cheek, And I still keep listening for the words,
You never more may speak.
'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near, The church where we were wed, Mary,
I see the spire from here; But the grave-yard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest ; For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends;