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The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up.
quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,—
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,—
Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whisper'd ‘’Twere better by far
"To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!'
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near,
O light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
O 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 Lochinvar.
⟨There⟩ was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
