To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to 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; Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 20 Booming from the sedgy shallow. Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; "She is won! we are gone! over bank, bush, Dream not, with the rising sun, and scaur;1 41 Bugles here shall sound reveillé. 25 Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying: 30 How thy gallant steed lay dying. Here no bugles sound reveillé. BOAT SONG 35 Hail to the Chief who in triumph ad vances! Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, 5 Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 15 20 "I read you by your bugle-horn, I read you for a ranger sworn His blast is heard at merry morn, I would I were with Edmund there, "With burnished brand and musketoon So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold dragoon 20 25 30 35 |
