The Land of Song Volume Iii Part 5

Of old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice, Self-gathered in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro' town and field To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men revealed The fullness of her face--

Grave mother of majestic works, From her isle-altar gazing down, Who, G.o.dlike, grasps the triple forks, And kinglike, wears the crown:

Her open eyes desire the truth.

The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. May perpetual youth Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and s.h.i.+ne, Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes!

ALFRED TENNYSON.

LOCHINVAR.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west.

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broadsword he weapons had none; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Eske River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;-- Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up; He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.

She looked down to blush, and she looked 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 bridemaidens whispered, "'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So 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; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cann.o.bie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

BANNOCKBURN.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lour: See approach proud Edward's pow'r-- Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor-knave?

Wha can fill a coward's grave?

Wha sae base as be a slave?

Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains!

By our sons in servile chains!

We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!

Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!-- Let us do or die!

ROBERT BURNS.

BONNIE DUNDEE.

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke, "Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; So let each Cavalier who loves honor and me, Come follow the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!"

Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat; But the Provost, douce man, said, "Just e'en let him be, The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee!"

As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow, Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her pow; But the young plants of grace they looked couthie and slee, Thinking, luck to thy bonnet, thou Bonnie Dundee!

With sour-featured Whigs the Gra.s.smarket was crammed, As if half the West had set tryst to be hanged; There was spite in each look, there was fear in each e'e, As they watched for the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears, And lang-hafted gullies to kill Cavaliers; But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway was free, At the toss of the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

He spurred to the foot of the proud Castle rock, And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke; "Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or three For the love of the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee."

The Gordon demands of him which way he goes: "Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose!

Your Grace in short s.p.a.ce shall hear tidings of me, Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

"There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth, If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the North; There are wild Duniewa.s.sals three thousand times three, Will cry _hoigh!_ for the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

"There's bra.s.s on the target of barkened bull hide; There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside; The bra.s.s shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free, At a toss of the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.