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I am an orphan, without a friend—
I was the delight of a gallant knight,
But the turtle I trow, is doomed to woe,
Courage, my heart, and bear the wrong—
Life is short, though sorrow is strong.
I had a sweet child, on me he smiled,
But the death-storm blew, and the cold night dew
I wrapped him in his winding sheet,
And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet.
My kindred are dead, my love is fled;
Courage, my heart, thou canst love no more; Pale is my cheek, my body is weak ;—
Courage, my heart, 'twill soon be o'er. Dim are my eyes, with tears of sorrow; They ache Tor a night, without a morrow.
Anon, THE LOVERS.
As gilded barks that hover near
If jealous fortune change our doom,
Thro' many & bright and cloudy day,
And when life's summer suns decline,
Anon. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
A chieftain to the Highlands bound
'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
For should he find us in the glen,
'His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover, Then who would 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
'Oh! haste thee, haste! the lady cries,
Though tempest 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;
The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they Towed, amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismayed through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:
And one was round her lover.
'Come back! comeback!' 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 shore,
Return or aid preventing:—
And he was left lamenting.