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her ear,

41

45

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. 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;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they Think not of the rising sun,
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, 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 adHave ye e'er heard of gallant like young

vances! Lochinvar?

Honored and blessed be the ever-green

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,

Earth lend it sap anew, Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

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;

When the whirlwind has stripped every Dream of fighting fields no more;

leaf on the mountain, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her

shade.

Moored in the rifted rock, 15 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

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

Echo his praise again, 1 cliff.

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

war,

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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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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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He waved his proud hand and the trumpets were blown,

45 The kettle-drums clashed and the horse

men rode on, Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Cler

miston's lea Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny

Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my

can,
Come saddle the horses and call up

50 Come open your gates and let me gae

free, For it's up with the bonnets of Bonny

Dundee!

KNOW YE THE LAND?

the men,

GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

(1788–1824)

Know ye the land where the cypress and

myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in

their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of

the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to

crime? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, 5 Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams

ever shine; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed

with perfume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her

bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of

fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is

mute;

WHEN WE TWO PARTED

When we two parted

In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years,

1 tanned.

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