Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, By fits a sultry hectic hue Across her cheek was flying; By fits so ashy pale she grew Yet keenest powers to see and hear He came he pass'd-an heedless gaze Could scarcely catch the feeble moan 434 GATHERING SONG OF DONald the Black Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; Leave untended the herd, Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset! 435 BORDER BALLAD MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order! March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story. Mount and make ready then, Sons of the mountain glen, Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding, War-steeds are bounding, Stand to your arms and march in good order; Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. 436 THE PRIDE OF YOUTH PROUD Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush Singing so rarely. 'Tell me, thou bonny bird, 'Who makes the bridal bed, The gray-headed sexton 437 438 'The glowworm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, Welcome, proud lady.' CORONACH HE is gone on the mountain, From the raindrops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, Waft the leaves that are serest, Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, How sound is thy slumber! Like the foam on the river Like the bubble on the fountain, LUCY ASHTON'S SONG Look not thou on beauty's charming; 439 Stop thine ear against the singer; ANSWER SOUND, Sound the clarion, fill the fife! 440 ROSABELLE O LISTEN, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. 'The blackening wave is edged with white; 'Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; "Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir |