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Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
34. THE INCHCAPE ROCK.
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
Without either sign or sound of their shock
The Abbot of Aberbrothock
When the Rock was hid by the surge's gwell,
The sun in heaven was shining gay,
The bvoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
He felt the cheering power of spring,
His eye was on the Inchcape float;
The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound,
Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away,
So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
“Canst hear," said one, “the breakers roar?
They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Sir Ralp the Rover tore his hair;
But even in his dying fear,
35. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
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 ?” “Oh! 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,
When they have slain her lover?”
Outspoke the bardy 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;
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 armed men;
Their trampling sounded nearer.
“Oh! haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.”
A stormy sea before her,
The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade
His child he did discover:
And one was round her lover.
“Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
“Across this stormy water; And I'll forgive your Highland chief;
My daughter! - O my daughter!"
'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing:
36. AFTER AN OLD LEGEND.
The monk was praying in his cell,
With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees
For two long hours and more.
When, in the midst, and suddenly
His eyes they opened wide;
A man's feet him beside!
And almost to the feet came down
A garment wove throughout; It was not like any he had seen
In the countries round about.
His eyes he lifted tremblingly
Until a hand they spied;
And another scar beside.
Then up they leaped the face to find;
His heart gave one wild bound
He had the Master found!