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A wet sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast
And fills the white and rustling sail

And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,

While like the eagle free
Away the good ship flies, and leaves

Old England on the lee.

Oh, for a soft and gentle wind !

I heard a fair one cry ;
But give to me the snoring breeze

And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my lads,

The good ship tight and free:
The world of waters is our home,

And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon


And lightning in yon cloud ;
But hark the music, mariners !

The wind is piping loud ;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free,
While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.

Allan Cunningham.


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


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 will 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 armèd men, Their trampling sounded nearer.

66 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,
A stormy sea before her,
When, oh, too strong for human hand!
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing :
Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade
His child he did discover :
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
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 :
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

Thomas Campbello


WHERE the pools are bright and deep,
Where the gray trout lies asleep,
Up the river and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thick and greenest;
There to trace the homeward bee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where the shadow falls the deepest,
Where the clustering nuts fall free,
That's the way for Billy and me.

i Note 2.

Why the boys should drive away
Little sweet maidens from the play,
Or love to banter and fight so well,
That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play,
Through the meadow, among the hay;
Up the water and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

James Hogg.


This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,

Sails the unshadowed main,

The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming


Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ;

Wrecked is the ship of pearl !

And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,

Before thee lies revealed,
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!


beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew,

Year after


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