WAKEN, lords and ladies gay !
On the mountain dawns the day;
All the jolly chase is here,
With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear!
Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling;
Merrily, merrily, mingle they,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
The mist has left the mountain grey,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming;
And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
To the greenwood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size;
We can show the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;
You shall see him brought to bay-
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
Louder, louder chant the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee,
Run a course as well as we;
Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,
Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk ?
Think of this, and rise with day,
Gentle lords and ladies gay!
A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound,
To row us o'er the ferry.'
'Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?'
'O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
'And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
'His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?'
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief—I'm ready;
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:
'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,
The water-wraith was shrieking;'
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armèd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.—
'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,
A stormy sea before her,
When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.
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.
For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade, His child he did discover :
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.
The evil spirit of the waters.
'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief,
'Across this stormy water:
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!-oh my daughter!
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have ta'en delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are cover'd warm,
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm :—
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
ON A SPANIEL CALLED BEAU'
KILLING A YOUNG BIRD
A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you,
Well fed, and at his ease,
Should wiser be than to pursue
Each trifle that he sees.
But you have killed a tiny bird,
Which flew not till to-day,
Against my orders, whom you heard
Forbidding you the prey.
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