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Come from the earth, the air, or the sea,
Sleep'st thou, wakest thou, lord of the wind,
Over the dog-star, over the wain,
Haste-haste-haste to me!
Then here's for trouble, and here's for smart,
HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR.
This is likewise on the proscription list-a proscribed rebel against the sovereign authority of Mr Little the Great; but if I have trod too near the heels of his dignity, I am sure it was through no ill intention. The verses were once harmonized by Smith to an Irish air called “ The Twisting of the Rope.”
How dear to me the hour when daylight springs,
And sheds new glories on the opening view, When westward far the towering mountain flings
His shadow, fringed with rainbows on the dew, And the love-waken’d lark enraptured springs
To heaven's own gate, his carols to renew!
In every flowering shrub then life is new,
As opening on the sun its gladsome eye ; So is life's morning-blithely we pursue
Hope's gilded rainbow of the heavenly dye, Till worn and weary we our travel rue,
And in life's cheerless gloaming yearn and die !
THE HILL OF LOCHIEL.
A JACOBITE song, suggested by the name of the air. To be found in the Scottish Minstrel.
Long have I pined for thee,
Hill of Lochiel !
Hill of the sturdy steer,
I love thee well!
When in my youthful prime,
Was my delight;
Scaling the eagle's nest,
Gladsome and light.
Then rose a bolder game,
Foremost must be !
Hard then our warrior meed,
Till we were doom'd to bleed
Then did the red blood stream,
Then was the broadsword's gleam
No more to shine!
All that were mine.