LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, "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. 66 And fast before her father's men "His horsemen hard behind us ride, Outspoke the hardy Highland wight, "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, "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, When oh! too strong for human hand, And still they row'd amidst the roar Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore, • The evil spirit of the waters. 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. "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 lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing : The waters wild went o'er his child- And he was left lamenting. ODE ΤΟ THE MEMORY OF BURNS SOUL of the Poet! wheresoe'er, Suspend thy harp in happier sphere, And fly like fiends from secret spell, And Love's own strain to him was given. With Pythian words unsought, unwill'd,- Who that has melted o'er his lay Nor skill'd one flame alone to fan: Grow beautiful beneath his touch. Him, in his clay-built cot,* the muse (That only gifted Poet views,) The Genii of the floods and storms, On Bannock-field what thoughts arouse As o'er the heroic turf he ploughs, And all their scorn of death and chains? * Burus was born in Clay-cottage, which his father had bukit with his own hands. |