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And each forester blithe, from his mountain descending, Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her,
In sport we'll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our fathers before Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her,
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;
Lullaby of an Enfant Chief.
AIR-" Cadul gu lo.": At the glance of her crescents he paused and withdrew,
1815. or around them were marshall’d the pride of the Border,
I. The Flowers of the Forest, the Bands of Buc
0, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Then with the Banner, &c.
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; up
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we
see, Stripling's weak hand' to our revel has borne her, No mail-glove has grasp'd her, no spearmen sur
They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee. round;
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo, But ere a bold foeman should scathe or should scorn
O ho ro, i ri ri, &c.
0, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would And hail, like our brethren, HOME, DOUGLAS, and
Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed. And Elliot and PRINGLE in pastime shall mingle,
O ho ro, i ri ri, &c. As welcome in peace as their fathers in war.
111. Then up with the Banner, &c.
0, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, Then strip, lads, and to it, though sharp be the wea- When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; ther,
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, And if, by mischance, you should happen to fall,
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. There are worse things in life than a tumble on hea
O ho ro, i ri ri, &c. ther, And life is itself but a game at foot-ball.
Then up with the Banner, &c.
1 The bearer of the standard was the Author's eldest son. Mr. Terry's drama of " Guy Mannering." (The “ Lullaby'
9 “ Sleep on till day." These words, adapted to a melody was first printed in Mr. Terry's drama : it was afterwards set somewhat erent from the original, are sung my friend to music in Thomson's Collection. 1822.)
Be it lad, or be it lass,
Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone, Sign wi' cross, and sain wi' mass.
Earth flits fast, and time draws on,
Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan,
Day is near the breaking.
“ The songstress paused, and was answered by one Fast upon St. Andrew's day.
or two deep and hollow groans, that seemed to pro
ceed from the very agony of the mortal strife. It Saint Bride and her brat
will not be,' she muttered to herself. He cannot Saint Colme and her cat,
pass away with that on his mind; it tethers him here. Saint Michael and his spear,
Heaven cannot abide it;
Earth refuses to hide it.
I must open the door.'
She lifted the latch, saying,
“Take the fame and the riches ye brought in your The Return to Ulster.'
train, And restore me the dream of my spring-tide again."
ONCE again,—but how changed since my wand'rings
Jock of Hazeldean.
AIR-A Border Melodly.
were written for Mr. Campbell's Albyn's Anthology. That flow'd when these echoes first mix'd with my strain ?
I. It was then that around me, though poor and un “Why weep ye by the tide, ladie ? known,
Why weep ye by the tide ? High spells of mysterious enchantment were thrown; I'll wed ye to my youngest son, The streams were of silver, of diamond the dew,
And ye sall be his bride: The land was an Eden, for fancy was new.
And ye sall be his bride, ladie, I had heard of our bards, and my soul was on fire
Sae comely to be seen ”-
For Jock of Hazeldean.
“ Now let this wilfu' grief be done, Ultonia's old heroes awoke at the call,
And dry that cheek so pale; And renew'd the wild pomp of the chase and the Young Frank is chief of Errington, hall;
And lord of Langley-dale; And the standard of Fion flash'd fierce from on high, His step is first in peaceful ha', Like a burst of the sun when the tempest is nigh.
His sword in battle keen”It seem'd that the harp of green Erin once more
But aye she loot the tears down fa' Could renew all the glories she boasted of yore.
For Jock of Hazeldean. Yet why at remembrance, fond heart, shouldst thou burn?
III. They were days of delusion, and cannot return.
“A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o' them a',
Shall ride our forest queen
For Jock of Hazeldean.
IV. Had been but a zephyr, that sigh’d and was still !
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
And dame and knight are there.
They sought her baith by bower and ha'; While I toil'd for the wealth I had no one to share.
The ladie was not seen ! Not then had I said, when life's summer was done,
She's o'er the Border, and awa' And the hours of her autumn were fast speeding on,
Wi’ Jock of Hazeldean,
I First published in Mr. G. Thomson's Collection of Irish Lirs. 1816.
2 In ancient Irish poetry, the standard of Fion, or Fingal, is called the Sun-burst, an epithet feebly rendered by the Sun beam of Macpherson.