Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair ; And you,

the foremost o' them a', Shall ride our forest queen But aye

she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.

IV

The kirk was decked at morning-tide,

The tapers glimmered fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,

And dame and knight are there ;
They sought her baith by bower and ha' -

The ladie was not seen!
She 's o'er the border, and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

Sir Walter Scott.

CANADIAN BOAT-SONG

FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.

Why should we yet our sails unfurl ?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl.
But when the wind blows off the shore
Oh, sweetly we 'll rest our weary oar !
Blow, breezes, blow ! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.

Utawa's tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers,
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs !
Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.

Thomas Moore.

ROSE AYLMER

Ah! what avails the sceptred race,

Ah! what the form divine !
What every virtue, every grace!.

Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes

May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and sighs
I consecrate to thee.

Walter Savage Landor.

ROSABELLE

Oh, listen, listen, ladies gay !

No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay

That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

“Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew,

And, gentle lady, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,

Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.

“ The blackening wave iş edged with white ;

To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,

Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.

“ Last night the gifted Seer did view

A wet shroud swathed round lady gay ; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch ;

Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ?”

66 'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir

To-night at Roslin leads the ball; But that my lady mother there

Sits lonely in her castle hall.

66 'Tis not because the ring they ride,

And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide

If 't is not filled by Rosabelle.”

O'er Roslin all that weary night

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'T was broader than the watch-fire's light,

And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,

It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; ’T was seen from Dryden's groves of oak,

And seen from caverned Hawthornden.

Seemed all on fire that chapel proud,

Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie,

Each Baron, for a sable shroud,

Sheathed in his iron panoply.

Seemed all on fire within, around,

Deep sacristy and altar's pale ; Shone every pillar foliage-bound,

And glimmered all the dead men's mail.

Blazed battlement and pinnet high,

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair So still they blaze, when fate is nigh

The lordly line of high Saint Clair.

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold

Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold,

But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !

And each Saint Clair was buried there

With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.

Sir Walter Scott.

RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER1

PART I

It is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three. 66 By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me ?

66

“The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,

And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din!”

He holds him with his skinny hand, “ There was a ship,” quoth he. “Hold off ! unhand me, gray-beard loon!”

Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye :
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child :
The Mariner hath his will.

a

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner :-

“The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared ;

Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top.

“ The sun came up upon the left,

Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

“ Higher and higher every day,

Till over the mast at noon