By this the storm grew loud apace,
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 arméd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

'O 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 stormy 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 hand 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.

T. Campbell.

LADY CLARE

IT was the time when lilies blow
And clouds are highest up in air,
Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
To give his cousin, Lady Clare.

I trow they did not part in scorn:
Lovers long-betroth'd were they;
They two will wed the morrow morn;
God's blessing on the day!

"He does not love me for my birth,
Nor for my lands so broad and fair;
He loves me for my own true worth,
And that is well," said Lady Clare.

In there came old Alice the nurse,
Said, "Who was this that went from thee?"
"It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,
"To-morrow he weds with me."

"O, God be thank'd!" said Alice the nurse,
“That all comes round so just and fair;
Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,

And you are not the Lady Clare."

"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?

Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?"

"As God's above," said Alice the nurse,

66

I speak the truth; you are my child.

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;
I speak the truth, as I live by bread!
I buried her like my own sweet child,
And put my child in her stead."

"Falsely, falsely have ye done,

O mother," she said, "if this be true,
To keep the best man under the sun
So many years from his due.”

Nay now, my child,” said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret for your life,

And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
When you are man and wife."

"If I'm a beggar born," she said,
"I will speak out, for I dare not lie.
Pull off, pull off, the broach of gold,

And fling the diamond necklace by."

66

Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,

"But keep the secret all ye can."

She said, "Not so; but I will know

If there be any faith in man.”

66 Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse, "The man will cleave unto his right." "And he shall have it," the lady replied, "Tho' I should die to-night."

"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!

Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee."

'O mother, mother, mother," she said,

"So strange it seems to me.

"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so,

And lay your hand upon my head,
And bless me, mother, ere I go."

She clad herself in a russet gown,

She was no longer Lady Clare;

She went by dale, and she went by down,

With a single rose in her hair.

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought

Leapt up from where she lay,

Dropt her head in the maiden's hand,
And follow'd her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:
"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!
Why come you drest like a village maid,
That are the flower of the earth?"

"If I come drest like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are;

I am a beggar born," she said, "And not the Lady Clare."

Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "For I am yours in word and in deed. Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "Your riddle is hard to read."

O and proudly stood she up!
Her heart within her did not fail;
She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes,
And told him all her nurse's tale.

He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn;

He turn'd, and kiss'd her where she stood:

"If you are not the heiress born,

And I," said he, "the next in blood—

'That, Father! will I gladly do:

'Tis scarcely afternoon

The minster-clock has just struck two,

And yonder is the moon!'

At this the father raised his hook,
And snapp'd a faggot-band;

He plied his work;-and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.