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Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended :

Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded.

Faster come, faster come,

Faster and faster:

Chief, vassal, page, and groom,

Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather :
Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set;

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Knell for the onset!

[Written for Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, 1816.]

YOUNG LOCHINVAR.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

O, young Lochinvar has come out of the west; Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none : He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so gallant in war!

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

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He stay❜d not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone;
He swam the Eske river, where ford there was none :
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented-the gallant came late-
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Helen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall,

Among bride'smen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all!
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?”–

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"I long woo'd your daughter-my suit you denied ;-
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ;-
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up;
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar:

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Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,

That never a hall such a galliard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,

And the bride-maidens whisper'd, " 'twere better by far, To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood

near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

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She is won! we are gone, over bush, loch, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby

clan;

Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they

ran;

There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

[See the ballad of Katharine Janfarie in Scott's Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 122, on which Young Lochinvar is founded.]

86

JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

Why weep ye by the tide, ladie

Why weep ye by the tide ?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye shall be his bride;

And ye shall be his bride, ladie,
Sae comely to be seen :”—
But aye she loot the tears down fa’,
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilful grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale:
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen :"
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock of Hazeldean.

"A chain o' gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;

And you, the foremost o' them a’,
Shall ride our forest queen :"-

But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was decked at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmered fair;

The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight were there :
They sought her baith by bower and ha’;

The ladie was not seen!

She's o'er the Border, and awa'

Wi' Jock of Hazeldean!

["The first stanza of this ballad is ancient. The others were written

for Mr. Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, 1816."-SCOTT.]

MACGREGORS' GATHERING.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The moon's on the lake, and the mists on the brae,
And the clan has a name that is nameless by day,
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather, &c.

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, &c.

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,

Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;

We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, &c.

But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
Mac Gregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, &c.

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles:

Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, &c.

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