"And by my word! the bonny bird So, though the waves are raging white, By this the storm grew loud арасе, But still as wilder blew the wind Their trampling sounded nearer.— "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, And still they rowed, amidst the roar 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! come back!" he cried in grief Across the 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. CAMPBELL. L SEA SONG. A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, While like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. "O for a soft and gentle wind!" But give to me the snoring breeze The good ship tight and free The world of waters is our home And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. LI THE WRECK. All night the booming minute-gun Had veiled her topsails to the sand, CUNNINGHAM. The queenly ship! brave hearts had striven, And true ones died with her! We e saw her mighty cable riven Like floating gossamer: We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas, Her helm beat down, her deck uptorn- We saw her treasures cast away; And gorgeous robes - but oh! that shore We saw the strong man, still and low, Yet, by that rigid lip and brow, And near him, on the sea-weed, lay- But well our gushing hearts might say, For her pale arms a babe had pressed Billows had dashed o'er that fond breast, Her very tresses had been flung And beautiful, 'midst that wild scene, Gleamed up the boy's dead face, Deep in her bosom lay his head, Oh! human love! whose yearning heart, Through all things vainly true, So stamps upon thy mortal part Surely thou hast another lot, There is some home for thee, Where thou shalt rest, remembering not The moaning of the sea! F. HEMANS. LII THE THREE FISHERS. Three fishers went sailing away to the West- Each thought on the woman who loved him the best And the children stood watching them out of the town; |