"Where will I get a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie, and come again soon?" "O here am I, a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie and come again soon." When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas "Wash and go dine 'Twas "Wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine." "O'twas ne'er my father's fashion, and it ne'er shall be mine To gar a lady's errand wait till I dine. "But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee." The first line that he read, a low smile ga'e he; "Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown; When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, sma' mirth was there; Bonnie Jean's mither was tearing her hair; "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome," said she, "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see." Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie gaed ben, But red rosy grew she whene'er he sat down; She turned awa' her head, but the smile was in her e'e, "O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee." Unknown LOCHINVAR From "Marmion" O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. Lochinvar He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all. "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;— The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, 755 So stately his form, and so lovely her face, One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone! over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Loch invar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean. "Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; His sword in battle keen" But aye she loot the tears down fa' "A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair; And you the foremost o' them a' But aye she loot the tears down fa' Allen-a-Dale The kirk was decked at morning-tide, The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, They sought her baith by bower and ha'; She's o'er the Border, and awa' Wi' Jock of Hazeldean. 757 Walter Scott [1771-1832] ALLEN-A-DALE From "Rokeby" ALLEN-A-DALE has no fagot for burning, The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale! Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she asked of his household and home: "Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!" said Allen-a-] a-Dale. The father was steel, and the mother was stone; A FARM WALK THE year stood at its equinox, And bluff the North was blowing, She wore a kerchief on her neck, She milked into a wooden pail, Too pointless for the city. She kept in time without a beat, I stood a minute out of sight, To eye the pail, and creamy white |