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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 lea ; But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
Sir Walter Scott.
HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE
How sleep the Brave who sink to rest
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE
OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.
No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,
Beside a human door !
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
“To-night will be a stormy night
You to the town must go;
Your mother through the snow.”
“ That, father, will I gladly do:
’T is scarcely afternoon
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon!
At this the father raised his hook,
And snapped a fagot-band;
The lantern in her hand.
Not blither is the mountain roe :
With many a wanton stroke
That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down, And many a hill did Lucy climb,
But never reached the town.
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide ;
To serve them for a guide.
At daybreak on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.
They wept — and, turning homeward, cried,
“ In heaven we all shall meet!” When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.
Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And by the long stone wall;
And then an open field they crossed :
The marks were still the same;
And to the bridge they came.
They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
And further there were none !
Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child ;
Upon the lonesome wild.
O’er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind ;
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS
It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,
The smoke now west, now south.
and spake an old sailor, Had sailed the Spanish Main, “I pray thee put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.
“ Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see !'
And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the northeast;
And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.
“Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so ;