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I am an orphan, without a friend—
Courage, my heart, for life will end.

I was the delight of a gallant knight,
And he vowed he only lived for me;

But the turtle I trow, is doomed to woe,
While her faithless mate away doth flee.

Courage, my heart, and bear the wrong—

Life is short, though sorrow is strong.

I had a sweet child, on me he smiled,
And bade me live his fame to see;

But the death-storm blew, and the cold night dew
Blasted the rose so dear to me.

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.


As gilded barks that hover near
The shores of sun-lit ocean,
Together launched our hearts shall steer,
To shun the storm's commotion.

If jealous fortune change our doom,
And tempests bid us sever,
True love shall cheer the midnight's gloom,
Our polar star forever.

Thro' many & bright and cloudy day,
Tho' breeze or blast be blowing;
Love still shall burn with steady ray,
And every sigh be glowing.

And when life's summer suns decline,
And age brings wintry weather,
Like kindred flowers our hearts shall twine,
And wither both together.



A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries, ' Boatman, do not tarry,

'And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry.'

'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 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 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;
When oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they Towed, amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismayed through storm and shade,

His child he did discover:
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,

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:—
The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.


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