'His horsemen hard behind us ride- Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, 'And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So though the waves are raging white I'll row you o'er the ferry.' By this the storm grew loud apace, But still as wilder blew the wind, 'O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, 'Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.' The boat has left a stormy land, When, O! too strong for human hand And still they row'd amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing: Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,His wrath was changed to wailing. 456 For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, 'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief, And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing: The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. THE RIVER OF LIFE THE more we live, more brief appear The gladsome current of our youth, But as the care-worn cheeks grow wan, When joys have lost their bloom and breath And life itself is vapid, Why, as we reach the Falls of Death, It may be strange-yet who would change. 457 Heaven gives our years of fading strength Indemnifying fleetness; And those of youth, a seeming length, TO THE EVENING STAR GEM of the crimson-colour'd Even, Why at the closing gates of heaven, So fair thy pensile beauty burns To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love Thine is the breathing, blushing hour O! sacred to the fall of day Shine on her chosen green resort Shine on her sweetly scented road : 458 Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath Where dying winds a sigh bequeath Where, winnow'd by the gentle air Thus, ever thus, at day's decline THE MAID OF NEIDPATH EARL March look'd on his dying child, She's at the window many an hour And he look'd up to Ellen's bower But ah! so pale, he knew her not, It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes 459 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long The spirits of your fathers For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart (K) HC-Vol. 41 |