WAKEN, LORDS AND LADIES GAY. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day; All the jolly chase is here, With hawk and horse and hunting spear. Waken, lords and ladies gay! Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray; Waken, lords and ladies gay! Waken, lords and ladies gay, To the greenwood haste away: We can show you where he lies Fleet of foot and tall of size ; We can show the marks he made When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed; Waken, lords and ladies gay! VOL. IV. S Louder, louder chant the lay, Tell them, youth and mirth and glee Time, stern huntsman! who can balk? MILES COLVINE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. O mariner, O mariner, When will our gallant men Full fifteen paced the stately deck, And maidens waved them from the shore By the waning of yon moon? O maid, the moon shines lovely down, And they may shine till doomsday comes, Ere your true love return; O'er his white forehead roll the waves, The wind sighs lowne and low, And the cry the sea-fowl uttereth So wail they on-I tell thee, maid, Is worth all the souls who perish'd O mariner, O mariner, It's whisper'd in the hall, And sung upon the mountain side Among our maidens all, That the waves which fill the measure Of that wide and fatal flood Cannot cleanse the decks of thy good ship, Or wash thy hands from blood; And sailors meet, and shake their heads, And up then spoke he, Miles Colvine, By all that's dark aneath the deep, By all that's bright aboon, By all that's blessed on the earth, Or blessed on the flood, And by my sharp and stalwart blade I could not spare them; for there came With a shriek of joy at every stroke That doom'd her foes to die. O mariner, O mariner, There was a lovely dame Went down with thee unto the deep, His dark eyes, like a thunder cloud, And, oh! his bold and martial face Wrong'd her as far we ranged; But were ever woman's woes and wrongs More fearfully avenged? THE BRAES OF BALLAHUN. THOMAS CUNNINGHAM. Now smiling summer's balmy breeze, O blissful days, for ever fled, Why starts the tear, why bursts the sigh, When hills and dales rebound with joy? The flowery glen and lilied lea In vain display their charms to me. I joyless roam the heathy waste, To soothe this sad, this troubled breast; |