The Reciter/Lord Ullin's daughter
———
LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
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 ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?'---
O, 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 would cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?'
Outspoke 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 арасе,
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 armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.--
'Oh! 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 story 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 arm 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!
'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.