"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
Across this stormy water:
"And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Oн, 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 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!
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 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie 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 ?
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 !
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride;
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died!
Your's was the brave good heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was gone:
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow;
I bless you for the same, Mary,
Though you cannot hear me now.
I thank you for that patient smile,
When your heart was like to break,
When the hunger-pain was gnawing there,
And you hid it, for my sake!
I bless you for the pleasant word,
And I'll think I see that little style,
Where we sat side by side,
And the springing corn, and the bright May morn,
When first you were my bride!
DARK is the night! how dark! no light! no fire!
Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire!
Shivering she watches by the cradle side,
For him who pledged her love
"Hark! 'tis his footstep! No-'tis past: 'tis gone :
Tick!-Tick! - How wearily the time crawls on!
Why should he leave me thus? He once was kind!
And I believed 'twould last how mad!-how blind!
Rest on! - "Tis hunger's cry!
Sleep! for there is no food! the fount is dry!
Famine and cold their wearying work have done,
My heart must break! And thou!" The clock strikes one.
"Hush! 'tis the dice-box! Yes, he's there, he's there,
For this! for this he leaves me to despair!
Leaves love! leaves truth! his wife! his child! for what?
The wanton's smile the villain—and the sot!
"Yet I'll not curse him! No! 'tis all in vain!
'Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again!
And I could starve and bless him, but for
My child!his child! - Oh fiend!"
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