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her ear,

And the bridemaidens whispered, “'Twere Yet the lark's shrill fife may come better by far

35 At the daybreak from the fallow, To have matched our fair cousin with And the bittern sound his drum, young Lochinvar."

Booming from the sedgy shallow.

Ruder sounds shall none be near, One touch to her hand, and one word in

Guards nor warders challenge here,

Here's no war-steed's neigh and champWhen they reached the hall-door, and the ing, charger stood near;

Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;

25 So light to the saddle before her he sprung;

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, “She is won! we are gone! over bank, bush,

Dream not, with the rising sun, and scaur;1

Bugles here shall sound reveillé.

41 They'll have fleet steeds that follow,”

Sleep! the deer is in his den; quoth young Lochinvar.

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying: 30

Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the

How thy gallant steed lay dying. Netherby clan;

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;

Think not of the rising sun,
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they
rode and they ran:
For at dawning to assail ye

35 There was racing and chasing on Can

Here no bugles sound reveillé. nobie Lee,

45 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did

BOAT SONG they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in

Hail to the Chief who in triumph adwar, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young

vances!

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Lochinvar?

Pine!

Long may the tree, in his banner that From THE LADY OF THE LAKE

glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our

line! SOLDIER, REST!

Heaven send it happy dew, 5 Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Earth lend it sap anew, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, Dream of battled fields no more,

While every Highland glen

Sends back our shout again,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

5 Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall,

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the Every sense in slumber dewing.

fountain, Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade: Dream of fighting fields no more;

When the whirlwind has stripped every Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

leaf on the mountain, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her

shade.

Moored in the rifted rock, No rude sound shall reach thine ear,

Proof to the tempest's shock, Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,

Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Trump nor pibroch summon here 15

Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Mustering clan or squadron tramping.

Echo his praise again, 1 cliff.

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

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Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen

Fruin,
And Bannochar's groans to our slogan

replied; Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking

in ruin,
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead

on her side.
Widow and Saxon maid

25 Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with

woe;
Lennox and Leven-glen

Shake when they hear again, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! 30

Fleet foot on the correi,

Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray,

How sound is thy slumber! Like the dew on the mountain,

Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain,

Thou art gone, and for ever!

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the

Highlands! Stretch to your oars for the ever-green

Pine! O! that the rose-bud that graces yon is

lands Were wreathed in a garland around him

to twine! O that some seedling gem, 35

Worthy such noble stem,
Honored and blessed in their shadow

might grow!
Loud should Clan-Alpine then

Ring from her deepmost glen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe! 40

HARP OF THE NORTH Harp of the North, farewell! The hills

grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descend

ing; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her

spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert

wending. Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain

lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder min

strelsy; Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers

blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of

housing bee. Yet once again farewell, thou Minstrel

harp! Yet once again forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp

May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's

long way, Through secret woes the world has never known,

15 When on the weary night dawned wearier

day, And bitterer was the grief devoured

alone. That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress!

is thine own.

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Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow re

tire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!

20 'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic

wing.

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But aye

Receding now, the dying numbers ring And as I rode by Dalton Hall, 5 Fainter and fainter down the rugged

Beneath the turrets high, dell,

A maiden on the castle wall And now the mountain breezes scarcely Was singing merrily: bring

25 “Oh, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, A wandering witch-note of the distant And Greta woods are green; spell

I'd rather rove with Edmund there, And now, 'tis silent all!—Enchantress, Than reign our English queen.”fare thee well!

“If, maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,

To leave both tower and town,
JOCK OF HAZELDEAN

Thou first must guess what life lead we 15 “Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?

That dwell by dale and down. Why weep ye by the tide?

And if thou canst that riddle read, I'll wed ye to my youngest son,

As read full well you may, And ye sall be his bride;

Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

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As blithe as Queen of May.”Sae comely to be seen

Yet sung she: “Brignall banks are fair, But aye she loot the tears down fa'

And Greta woods are green; For Jock of Hazeldean.

I'd rather rove with Edmund there,

Than reign our English queen. “Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale;

"I read you by your bugle-horn, Young Frank is chief of Errington,

And by your palfrey good, And lord of Langley-dale;

I read you for a ranger sworn His step is first in peaceful ha',

To keep the King's greenwood.”— His sword in battle keen”

“A ranger, lady, winds his horn, she loot the tears down fa'

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And 'tis at peep of light: For Jock of Hazeldean.

His blast is heard at merry morn,

And mine at dead of night.” “A chain of gold ye sall not lack,

Yet sung she: “Brignall banks are fair, Nor braid to bind your hair;

And Greta woods are gay;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, I would I were with Edmund there,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;

To reign his Queen of May.
And you, the foremost o' them a',
Shall ride our forest queen”.

“With burnished brand and musketoon But aye she loot the tears down fa'

So gallantly you come, For Jock of Hazeldean.

I read you for a bold dragoon

That lists the tuck of drum."-
The kirk was decked at morning-tide, 25 “I list no more the tuck of drum,
The tapers glimmered fair;

No more the trumpet hear,
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, But when the beetle sounds his hum,
And dame and knight are there.

My comrades take the spear.
They sought her baith by bower and ha'; And oh, though Brignall banks be fair, 45
The lady was not seen!

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And Greta woods be gay, She's o'er the Border, and awa'

Yet mickle must the maiden dare Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

Would reign my Queen of May!

“Maiden, a nameless life I lead, BRIGNALL BANKS

A nameless death I'll die: Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead, And Greta woods are green,

Were better mate than I! And you may gather garlands there And when I'm with my comrades met, Would grace a summer queen.

Beneath the greenwood bough,

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As he rode down the sanctified bends of

the Bow, Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her

pow; But the young plants of grace they looked couthie and slee,

15 Thinking, luck to thy bonnet, thou

Bonny Dundee!

Come fill up my cup, etc. With sour-featured Whigs the Grass

market was crammed As if half the West had set tryst to be

hanged; There was spite in each look, there was

fear in each e'e, As they watched for the bonnets of Bonny

Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, etc.

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Ιο

These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and

The village maid steals through the shade

Her shepherd's suit to hear;
To beauty shy by lattice high,

Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above,

Now reigns o'er earth and sky;
And high and low the influence know- 15

But where is County Guy?

had spears,

And lang-hafted gullies to kill Cavaliers; But they shrunk to close-heads and the

causeway was free, At the toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dun

dee.
Come fill up my cup, etc.

BONNY DUNDEE

To the Lords of Convention 't was

Claver'se who spoke, "Ere the King's crown shall fall there are

crowns to be broke; So let each Cavalier who loves honor and

me, Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee.

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,

5 Come saddle your horses and call up

your men; Come open the West Port and let me

gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of

Bonny Dundee!”

He spurred to the foot of the proud Castle rock,

25 And with the gay Gordon he gallantly

spoke; “Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak

twa words or three, For the love of the bonnet of Bonny

Dundee.”
Come fill up my cup, etc.

The Gordon demands of him which way

he goes “Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose!

30 Your Grace in short space shall hear

tidings of me, Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonny

Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, etc.

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“There are hills beyond Pentland and

lands beyond Forth, If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the North;

? companions.

1 sedate.

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There are wild Duniewassals three thou

Pale grew thy cheek and cold, sand times three,

35

Colder thy kiss;
Will cry hoight for the bonnet of Bonny

Truly that hour foretold
Dundee.

Sorrow to this.
Come fill up my cup, etc.

The dew of the morning “There's brass on the target of barkened

Sunk chill on my browbull-hide;

It felt like the warning There's steel in the scabbard that dangles

Of what I feel now. beside;

Thy vows are all broken, The brass shall be burnished, the steel

And light is thy fame: shall flash free,

I hear thy name spoken,
At a toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dun-

And share in its shame.
dee.
Come fill up my cup, etc.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear; “Away to the hills, to the caves, to the A shudder comes o'er merocks

Why wert thou so dear? 20 Ere I own an usurper, I'll couch with the They know not I knew thee, fox;

Who knew thee too well: And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of Long, long shall I rue thee, your glee,

Too deeply to tell.
You have not seen the last of my bonnet
and me!"

In secret we met-
Come fill up my cup, etc.

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget, He waved his proud hand and the trump

Thy spirit deceive. ets were blown,

If I should meet thee The kettle-drums clashed and the horse

After long years, men rode on,

How should I greet thee?—
Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Cler-

With silence and tears.
miston's lea
Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny
Dundee.

KNOW YE THE LAND?
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my
can,

Know ye the land where the cypress and Come saddle the horses and call up myrtle the men,

Are emblems of deeds that are done in Come open your gates and let me gae their clime? free,

Where the rage of the vulture, the love of For it's up with the bonnets of Bonny the turtle, Dundee!

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to

crime?

Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, 5 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams (1788–1824)

ever shine;

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed WHEN WE TWO PARTED

with perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her When we two parted

bloom; In silence and tears,

Where the citron and olive are fairest of Half broken-hearted

fruit, To sever for years,

And the voice of the nightingale never is

mute;

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