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" 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 horsemen 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, O! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.
THE SANDS ODEE.
And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing ;-
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dism through storm and shade
His child he did discover;
And one was round her lover.
“Come back! come back !” he cried in grief,
“ Across this stormy water ;
My daughter !-Oh, my daughter !"
'Twas vain :—the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing:
The Sands o' Dee.
“O MARY, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee !"
And all alone went she.
The creeping tide came up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
As far as eye could see ;
And never home came she.
“Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair
A tress o' golden hair-
Above the nets at sea ?
Among the stakes on Dee."
The cruel, crawling foam,
To her grave beside the sea;
On the Death of George the Third.
WRITTEN UNDER WINDSOR TERRACE. I ,
Walking in health and gladness, Begirt with his court; and in all the crowd
Not a single look of sadness.
Bright was the sun, the leaves were green
Blithely the birds were singing;
And the bells were merrily ringing.
I have stood with the crowd beside his bier,
When not a word was spokenWhen every eye was dim with a tear,
And the silence by sobs was broken.
I have heard the earth on his coffin pour
To the muffled drum's deep rolling, While the minute-gun, with its solemn roar,
Drowned the death-bells' tolling.
ON THE DEATH OF GEORGE THE THIRD. 83
The time-since he walked in his glory thus,
To the grave till I saw him carried-
But to him a night unvaried.
A daughter beloved, a queen, a son,
And a son's sole child, have perished ;
By which they were fondest cherished:
And he sat in his age's lateness-
Of the frailty of human greatness;
His silver beard o'er a bosom spread
Unvexed by life's commotion,
On the calm of a frozen ocean.
Still o'er him oblivion's waters lay,
Though the stream of life kept flowing;
The old man's strength was going.
At intervals thus the waves disgorge,
By weakness rent asunder,
To the people's pity and wonder.
Death's hand his slumbers breaking ;-
Is a sure and blissful waking.
His people's heart is his funeral urn;
And should sculptured stone be denied him,
Ye Mariners of England.
That guard our native seas;
The spirits of your fathers
Britannia needs no bulwarks,