Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore

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.

CAMPBELL.

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!”— “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
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?”–

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 :
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.

“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, —
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. —

For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,

His child he did discover :
One lovely arm 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 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.

CAMPBELL.

LOCHINVAR.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide border bis steed was the best;
And, save bis good broad-sword, he weapon had none;
He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone !
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar !

He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd 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 bridesmen, 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 —
“Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war ? —
Or to dance at our bridal ? young Lord Lochinvar!”

“I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied :
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide !
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine !
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar ! ”

The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up,
He quaff’d off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh —
With a smile on her lip, 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 whisper'd, “ 'Twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!”

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 croup 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 ʼmong Graemes of the Netherby clan ;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ;
There was racing and chasing on Canńobie Lea,
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 ?

SCOTT.

THE IRISH EMIGRANT.

I'm sitting on the style, Mary,

Where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning, long ago,

When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,

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,
The lark's loud song is in my ear,

And the corn is green again!
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,

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;
But oh, they love the better far,
The few our Father sends !

« ElőzőTovább »