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And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.

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They wept-and, turning homeward,
cried,

"In heaven we all shall meet;"

-When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge

They tracked the footmarks small;

And through the broken hawthorn hedge, And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:

The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank ̈
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!

-Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a

living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.

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O'er rough and smooth she trips along,

And never looks behind;

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PROUD Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early;

Sweet Robin sits on the bush,

Singing so rarely.

"Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I marry me?"
"When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye."

"Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly?"

"The gray-headed sexton

1818.

That delves the grave duly.

"The glow-worm o'er grave and stone

Shall light thee steady.

The owl from the steeple sing,

'Welcome, proud lady.'"'

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Sir Walter Scott

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!"-

"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,

And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?"-

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight-
It is not for your silver bright;
"I'll go, my chief-I 'm ready:-
But for your winsome lady;

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"And by my word! the bonny bird

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In danger shall not tarry;

So though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."—

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armèd men,

Their trampling sounded nearer.—

O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,

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'Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies,

But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her,→

When, O! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar'

Of waters fast prevailing:

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,-
His wrath was changed to wailing.

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For, sore dismay'd, through storm and

shade,

His child he did discover:

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
And one was round her lover.

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"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief
"Across this stormy water:

And I'll forgive your Highland chief, "
My daughter! O my daughter!".

'T was vain: the loud waves lash'd the
shore,

Return or aid preventing:

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The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

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“O MARY, go and call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home, '

Across the sands of Dee!"

The western wind was wild and dank with

foam,

And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,

And o'er and o'er the sand,'

And round and round the sand,"

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