No sound comes back, like the sounds of yore, But one free step, and one lofty heart, Bear through that scene to the last their part. She hath led the death-train of the brave But it shakes as a flame to the blast might thrill, Rending the cords of her frail young life, Lifting her voice as if death might hear, "I have won thy fame from the breath of wrong,— My soul hath risen for thy glory strong! Now call me hence by thy side to be, The world thou leav'st has no place for me; The living cheek! Oh! it was not vain, In death how queen-like a glorious bride! Joy for the freed one!—she might not stay A dove with no home for its broken wing, She hath lived — she had loved her task is done! : XXV AULD ROBIN GRAY. When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye come hame, The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee, Young Jamie loved me weel, and sought me for his bride, Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day, My father cou'dna work—my mother cou'dna spin; My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back; My father urged me sair, my mother didna speak, I hadna been his wife, a week but only four, O sair, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say; I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin; I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I will do my best a gude wife aye to be, For Auld Robin Gray, oh! he is sae gude to me. LADY ANNE LINDSAY. XXVI LORD JOHN OF THE EAST. The fires blazed bright till deep midnight, And the guests sat in the hall, And the Lord of the feast, Lord John of the East, His dark grey eye, that wont so sly Flashed keenly bright, like a new-waked sprite, In laughter light, or jocund lay, That voice was heard, whose sound, Stern, loud, and deep, in battle fray And stretched so balm, like lady's palm, That hand which through a prostrate foe The gallants sang, and the goblets rang, Till a thundering sound, that shook the ground, “Who knocks without, so loud and stout? Some wandering knight, I ween, Who from afar, like a guiding star, Our blazing hall hath seen. "If a stranger it be, of high degree Step forth amain, my pages twain, "Tell him our cheer is the forest deer, Our bowl is mantling high, And the Lord of the feast is John of the East, Who welcomes him courteously." The pages twain returned again, And a wild scared look had they : "Why look ye so?-is it friend or foe?" baron say. Did the angry "A stately knight without doth wait, But further he will not hie, Till the baron himself shall come to the gate, And entreat him courteously." |