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;

20

25

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 arméd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"O 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!-Oh, my daughter!"

'T was 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.

Campbell.

HOHENLINDEN

ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night
Commanding fires of death to light

The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast array'd
Each horseman drew his battle-blade
And furious every charger neigh'd

To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven;
Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven;
And louder than the bolts of Heaven
Far flashed the red artillery.

5

IO

15

But redder yet that light shall grow
On Linden's hills of stainéd snow;
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun

Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ye Brave
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,

And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few shall part, where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

Campbell.

20

25

330

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

YE Mariners of England

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe:

5

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.

IO

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;

Her home is on the deep.

15

20

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,

When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

35

40

Campbell.

HESTER

WHEN maidens such as Hester die
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
With vain endeavor.

A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her together.

A springy motion in her gait,
A rising step, did indicate

Of pride and joy no common rate
That flush'd her spirit:

I know not by what name beside
I shall it call: if 't was not pride,
It was a joy to that allied
She did inherit.

Her parents held the Quaker rule,
Which doth the human feeling cool;

But she was train'd in Nature's school,
Nature had blest her.

A waking eye, a prying mind,

A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind
Ye could not Hester.

My sprightly neighbor! gone before
To that unknown and silent shore,
Shall we not meet, as heretofore

Some summer morning

5

IO

15

20

25