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And, by my word ! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry ;
I'll row you o'er the ferry.”
The water-wraith was shrieking ;
Grew dark as they were speaking. But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
“ Though tempests round us gathei, I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.”
A stormy sea before her-
The tempest gather'd o'er her.
Of waters fast prevailing :
His wrath was changed to wailing.
His child he did discover;
And one was round her lover.
“Come back! come back !” he cried in grief,
“ Across this stormy water : And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter ! O my daughter!"
'Twas vain : the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return, or aid preventing:
And he was left lamenting.
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,Through all the wide Border his steed was the
best, And save his good broadsword he weapons had
none, He rode all unarm'd and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for
stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall, 'Mong bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and
all. Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his
sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), · Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to 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 am I come, with this lost love of mine
The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine and he threw down the
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd 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.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume, And the bridemaidens whisper'd, “ 'Twere better by
far' To have match'd our fair cousin with young Loch
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger
stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! “She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and
scaur ; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Neth
erby clan ; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and
they ran; 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 Lochin
SIR WALTER SCOTT.