But now he's gone from me, and left me thus mourning,

To quell the proud rebels, for valiant was he; And yet there's no hopes of his speedy returning, To wander again on the banks of the Dee. He's gone, hapless youth, o'er the loud roaring billows,

The sweetest and kindest of all his brave fellows, And has left me to mourn amonst these oncelov'd willows,

The loneliest of maids on the banks of the Dee.

But time and my prayers may, perhaps, yet restore him;

Bless'd peace may restore my dear shepherd to me;

And when he comes home, with such care I'll watch o'er him,

He never shall quit the sweet banks of the Dee. The Dee, then, shall flow, all its beauties displaying, The lambs on the banks shall again be seen playing, Whilst I with my Jemmy am carelessly straying, And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.

Allegro Moderato.

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 clansmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and
all!

Then spake 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,
Orto 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 I am 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.'

was knight like the young Loch- in - var!
The bride kiss'd the goblet; e 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' 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.
One touch on her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger
stood near;

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
'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 !
[they ran;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and
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

ask'd, as he held the

:

Tim bit his lip, Tim scratch'd his head,
Tim let go the handle, and thus Tim said,
As the door releas'd behind him bang'd :-
'An't please ye, my lord, there's a man to be hang'd!'
My Lord Tomnoddy jump'd up at the news,
And ran to Sir Carnaby Jenks of the Blues,
Took a squint at his watch-'twas half-past two,
So he ran to M'Fuse and Lieutenant Tregoo ;-
Rope-dancers a score I've seen before-
Madame Sacchi, Antonio, and Master Blackmore,-
But to see a man swing at the end of a string,
With his neck in a noose, will be quite a new thing!'
My Lord Tomnoddy stepp'd into his cab-
'Twas dark rifle-green, with a lining of drab-
Thro' street and thro' square his high-trotting mare
Like one of Ducrow's goes pawing the air.
Adown Piccadilly and Waterloo Place
Went the high-trotting mare at a deuce of a pace :
She produc'd some alarm, but she didn't do harm,
Save fright'ning a nurse with a child on her arm;
Knocking down, very much to the sweeper's dismay,
An old woman who wouldn't get out of the way;
Upsetting a stall near Exeter Hall,
Which made all the pious Church-Mission folks squall.
Now eastward afar through Temple Bar,
My Lord Tomnoddy directs his car,
Never heeding their squalls, their calls, or their bawls,
And merely just catching a glimpse of St. Paul's;
Turns down the Old Bailey, in front of the gaol, he
Pulls up at the door of a gin-shop, and gayly
Cries. What must I fork out to-night, my trump,
For the whole first-floor of the Magpie and Stump?'
The clock struck Twelve-'tis dark midnight,
But the Magpie and Stump's one blaze of light;
The parties are met, the tables are set,-
There's punch, cold without, hot with, heavy wet;

Ale-glasses and jugs, and rummers and mugs,
And sand on the floor without carpets or rugs:
Cold fowl and cigars, pickled onions in jars,
Welsh rabbits and kidneys-rare work for the jaws.
The clock struck One,-the supper is done,
And Sir Carnaby Jenks is full of his fun;
My Lord Tomnoddy is drinking gin-toddy,
And laughing and joking at ev'ry body:
All singing and drinking, save Captain M'Fuse,
Who's dropping his head and taking a snooze,
While Sir Carnaby Jenks is busy at work,
Blacking his nose with a piece of burn'd cork.
The clock struck Two, and the clock struck Three,-
Who's so merry, so merry, as we;

The clock struck Four-round the debtors' door
Are gathered a couple of thousand or more;
The clock struck Five-the sheriffs arrive,
And the crowd is so great the street seems alive.
Sir Carnaby Jenks blinks and winks,

A candle burns down in the socket, and stinks;
While Lieutenant Tregoo and my Lord Tomnoddy
Are nodding their heads thro' drinking their toddy;
And, just as the dawn is beginning to peep,
The whole of the party are fast asleep.
The clock struck Nine, the finishing stroke,
And then my Lord Tomnoddy awoke;
And Tregoo and Sir Carnaby Jenks arose,
And Captain M'Fuze with the black on his nose:—
Halloa! halloa! here's the devil to pay,—
The fellow's been cut down, and taken away!
They'll laugh at and quiz us all over the town;
We're all of us done so uncommonly brown!'
What was to be done !-'Twas perfectly plain
They could'nt well hang the man over again;
What was to be done-The man was dead,
So my Lord Tomnoddy went home to bed.