THE SKYLARK Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud; Love gives its energy, love gave it birth; Where on the dewy wing, Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day; Over the rainbow's rim, Then when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Bird of the wilderness, Bless'd is thy dwelling-place, Oh! to abide in the desert with thee. YOUNG LOCHINVAR XLVII YOUNG LOCHINVAR (SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.) Он, young Lochinvar is come out of the west; Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broadsword he weapons had none; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Esk 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. YOUNG 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), "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup, YOUNG LOCHINVAR She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips 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 bridemaidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch of her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached 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. A WEARY LOT IS THINE, FAIR MAID There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, 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? XLVIII A WEARY LOT IS THINE, FAIR MAID (SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.) "A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A doublet of the Lincoln green- |