For that slender body was full o' soul,

And the will is mair than shape; As the skipper saw when they cleared the berg,

And he heard her quarter scrape.

Quo the skipper: "Ye are a lady fair,

And a princess grand to see; But ye are a woman, and a man wad sail

To hell in yer company."

She liftit a pale and a queenly face; Her een flashed, and syne they

swam.

"And what for no to heaven?" she says,

And she turned awa' frae him.

But she took na her han' frae the good ship's helm,

Until the day did daw; And the skipper he spak, but what he said

It was said atween them twa.

And then the good ship, she lay to,
With the land far on the lee;
And up came the king upo' the
deck,

Wi' wan face and bluidshot ee.

The skipper he louted to the king:

"Gae wa', gae wa'," said the king. Said the king, like a prince, "I was a' wrang,

Put on this ruby ring."

And the wind blew lowne, and the stars cam oot,

And the ship turned to the shore; And, afore the sun was up again, They saw Scotland ance more.

That day the ship hung at the pierheid,

And the king he stept on the land. 66 Skipper, kneel down," the king he said,

"Hoo daur ye afore me stand?"

The skipper he louted on his knee,
The king his blade he drew:
Said the king, "How daured ye con-
tre me?

I'm aboard my ain ship noo.

"I canna mak ye a king," said he, "For the Lord alone can do that; And besides ye took it intil yer ain han',

And crooned yersel' sae pat!

"But wi' what ye will I redeem my ring;

For ance I am at your beck. And first, as ye loutit Skipper o' Doon,

Rise up Yerl o' Quarterdeck."

The skipper he rose and looked at the king

In his een for all his croon; Said the skipper, "Here is yer grace's ring,

And yer daughter is my boon."

Cam' twenty riders on twenty steeds, Clankin' wi' spur and spear.

"He saved your life!" cried the lady fair;

"His life ye daurna spill!" "Will ye come atween me and my hate?"

Quo the lady, "And that I will!"

And on cam the knights wi' spur and spear,

For they heard the iron ring. "Gin ye care na for yer father's grace,

Mind ye that I am the king."

"I kneel to my father for his grace, Right lowly on my knee;

But I stand and look the king in the face,

For the skipper is king o' me."

"We hauled our men in: two of

them were deadThe sea had beaten them, their heads hung down;

Our parson's arms were empty, for the wave

Had torn away the pretty, pretty lamb;

We often see him stand beside her

grave:

But 'twas no fault of his, no fault of his."

JEAN INGELOW.

THE DROWNED LOVERS.

WILLIE stands in his stable door,
And clapping at his steed;
And looking o'er his white fingers,
His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn to my horse, mother;
And meat to my young man:
And I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down.”

"O bide this night wi' me, Willie,
O bide this night wi' me;
The best an' cock o' a' the reest,
At your supper shall be."

"A' your cocks, and a' your reests, I value not a prin;

For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"Stay this night wi' me, Willie,
O stay this night wi' me;
The best an' sheep in a' the flock
At your supper shall be."

"A' your sheep, and a' your flocks, I value not a prin;

For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"O an' ye gang to Meggie's bower,
Sae sair against my will,
The deepest pot in Clyde's water,
My malison ye's feel."

"The guid steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thretty pound;
And I'll put trust in his swift feet,
To hae me safe to land."

As he rade ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The noise that was in Clyde's water
Wou'd fear'd five hunder men.

"Ye're roaring loud, Clyde water,
Your waves seem ower strang;
Make me your wreck as I come back,
But spare me as I gang."

Then he is on to Meggie's bower,
And tirlèd at the pin;

"O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie,” he said,

"Ye'll open, lat me come in."

"O wha is this at my bower door, That calls me by my name?" "It is your first love, sweet Willie, This night newly come hame."

"I hae few lovers thereout, thereout,

As few hae I therein;

The best an' love that ever I had,
Was here just late yestreen."

"The warstan stable in a' your stables,

For my puir steed to stand; The warstan bower in a' your bowers,

For me to lie therein:

My boots are fu' o' Clyde's water,
I'm shivering at the chin."