Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN

OME listen to another song,

Should make your heart beat high,

Bring crimson to your forehead,
And the lustre to your eye; —

It is a song of olden time,

Of days long since gone by, And of a baron stout and bold

As e'er wore sword on thigh!

Like a brave old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time!

He kept his castle in the north,

Hard by the thundering Spey;
And a thousand vassals dwelt around,
All of his kindred they.

And not a man of all that clan

Had ever ceased to pray

For the Royal race they loved so well,

Though exiled far away

From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers,
All of the olden time!

His father drew the righteous sword
For Scotland and her claims,
Among the loyal gentlemen

And chiefs of ancient names,
Who swore to fight or fall beneath
The standard of King James,
And died at Killiecrankie Pass,
With the glory of the Græmes;
Like a true old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time!

He never owned the foreign rule,
No master he obeyed,

But kept his clan in peace at home,
From foray and from raid;

And when they asked him for his oath,
He touched his glittering blade,
And pointed to his bonnet blue,
That bore the white cockade:

Like a leal old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time!

At length the news ran through the land, The Prince had come again!

That night the fiery cross was sped

O'er mountain and through glen;

And our old baron rose in might,
Like a lion from his den,

And rode away across the hills
To Charlie and his men,

With the valiant Scottish cavaliers,
All of the olden time!

He was the first that bent the knee
When the standard waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe
On Preston's bloody sod;
And ever, in the van of fight,
The foremost still he trod,
Until on bleak Culloden's heath

He gave his soul to God,

Like a good old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time!

O, never shall we know again

[ocr errors]

A heart so stout and true,
The olden times have passed away,

And weary are the new;

The fair white rose has faded

From the garden where it grew,

But no fond tears save those of heaven,
The glorious bed bedew

Of the last old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time.

THE SEA

THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES

O sea, to sea! the calm is o'er,

[ocr errors]

The wanton water leaps in sport, And rattles down the pebbly shore;

The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort, And unseen Mermaids' pearly song Comes bubbling up, the weeds among. Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar: To sea, to sea! the calm is o'er.

To sea, to sea! our white-wing'd bark
Shall billowy cleave its watery way,
And with its shadow, fleet and dark,
Break the caved Triton's azure day,
Like mountain eagle soaring light
O'er antelopes on Alpine height:
The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,
Our sails swell full. To sea, to sea!

BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE

CHARLES WOLFE

OT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

[ocr errors]

As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,

And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!

« AnteriorContinuar »