"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 hors.e.m.e.n hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?"--

Out spoke 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 armed 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 gathered o'er her.--

And still they rowed amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing: Lord Ullin reached that fatal sh.o.r.e,-- His wrath was changed to wailing.--

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, His child he did discover:-- One lovely hand she stretched for aid, 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! oh, my daughter!"--

'Twas vain:--the loud waves lashed the sh.o.r.e.

Return or aid preventing:-- The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting.

YOUNG LOCHINVAR

Sir Walter Scott

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

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Esk 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 Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, Among brid'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?"--

"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,-- "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 whispered, "'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!

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

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cann.o.bie Lea, 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?

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

16--

Robert Browning

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren, the c.o.c.ks crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; At Duffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, With resolute shoulders, each b.u.t.ting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other p.r.i.c.ked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!

And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

By Ha.s.selt, Direk groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"

"How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate.

With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember is--friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

THE REVENGE

A BALLAD OF THE FLEET

Alfred Tennyson

I

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away: "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"