For thee thy fond Shepherdess liv'd, With thee o'er the world would she fly, For thee has she sorrow'd and griev'd, For thee would she lie down and die. "Alas! what avails it how dear Thy Lucy was once to her swain ! Her face like the lily so fair, And eyes that gave light to the plain! The shepherd that left her is gone, That face and those eyes charm no more, And Lucy forgot and alone, To death shall her Collin deplore." While thus she lay sunk in despair, And mourn'd to the echoes around, Inflam'd all at once grew the air, And thunder shook dreadful the ground: "I hear the kind call and obey, Oh, Collin, receive me," she cried! Then breathing a groan o'er his clay, She hung on his tomb-stone and died. [CAMPBELL.] A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound Cries," Boatman do not tarry, And I'll give thee a silver pound "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 if he find us in the glen, My blood will stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; 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 So, though the waves are raging white, By this the storm grew loud apacę, "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.” 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 :— 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 raging water, And I'll forgive your Highland chief; 'Twas vain; the loud wave lash'd the shore, Return or help preventing, The waters wild went o'er his child, TO A FEMALE CUPBEARER. [From the Arabic.] [CARLYLE.] COME, Leila, fill the goblet up, A draught like this 'twere vain to seek, It steals its tint from Leila's cheek, Its brightness from her eye. HUNTING SONG. WAKEN, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day, With hawk and horse, and hunting spear; Merrily, merrily, mingle they, "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay, |