7
'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.
———
BILLY DIP.
Chloe, a maid at fifty-five,
Was at her toilette dressing ;
Her waiting-maid, with iron hot,
Each paper'd curl was pressing.
