GLENARA. O HEARD ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud," O! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, In dust, low the traitor has knelt to the ground, And the desert revealed where his lady was found; From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne, Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn! BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. I. Or Nelson and the North, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand, In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on. Like leviathans afloat, II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine; On the lofty British line: It was ten of April morn by the chime. There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, For a time. III. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak," our captains cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. IV. Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back;— Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased-and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Light the gloom. V. Outspoke the victor then, As he hailed them o'er the wave, "Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save : So peace instead of death let us bring. To our king." VI. Then Denmark blest our chief, That he gave her wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief, As death withdrew his shades from the day. While the sun looked smiling bright O'er a wide and woful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. Now joy, old England, raise! While the wine cup shines in light; By thy wild and stormy steep, VIII. Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles Of the brave! LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound, • Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his despatches. "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water!"— "Oh I'm the chief Of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.- "And fast before her father's men "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Outspoke the hardy Highland wight, And by my word! the bonny bird So, though the waves are raging white, By this the storm grew loud apace, The water wraith was shrieking;* And in the scowl of heav'n each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, *The evil spirit of the waters. |