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 ;1
And in the scowl of heaven 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 armèd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.—
'O 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 hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.
The evil spirit of the waters.
'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 lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing ;
The waters wild went o'er his child,—
And he was left lamenting.
WHEN my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry, 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!'
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said,
'Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.'
And so he was quiet and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight,
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins, and set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then, naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work;
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
'A maiden's vows,' old Callum spoke 'Are lightly made, and lightly broke; The heather on the mountain's height Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blithely wed the Earlie's son.'
'The swan,' she said, the lake's clear breast
May barter for the eagle's nest;
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn,
Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn;
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done,
Would never wed the Earlie's son.'
Still in the water-lily's shade
Her wonted nest the wild-swan made;
Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever,
Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;
To shun the clash of foeman's steel,
No Highland brogue has turn'd the heel:
But Nora's heart is lost and won,
-She's wedded to the Earlie's son !
FAIR stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.
And, taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marcheth tow'rds Agincourt
In happy hour,
(Skirmishing day by day,
With those oppose his way)
Where the French general lay
With all his power.
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