On the deck of fame that died,

With the gallant good Riou:*

Soft sigh the winds of heav'n o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls,

And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave!-

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 ?"
Oh, 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 ?”—

66

:

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

Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good by Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his despatches.

"And by my word! the bonny bird
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 heav'n 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 armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.—
"Oh, haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
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, oh! 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 chang'd to wailing.-

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.--

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

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!-oh my daughter!"-

* The evil spirit of the waters.

'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing :

The waters wild went o'er his child-
And he was left lamenting.

NOTES.

1 Page 6.-And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore.

THE following picture of his own distress, given by Byron in his simple and interesting narrative, justifies the description in p. 6. After relating the barbarity of the Indian Cacique to his child, he proceeds thus:"A day or two after, we put to sea again, and crossed the great bay I mentioned we had been at the bottom of, when we first hauled away to the westward. The land here was very low and sandy, and something like the mouth of a river which discharged itself into the sea, and which had been taken no notice of by us before, as it was so shallow that the Indians were obliged to take everything out of their canoe, and carry it over land. We rowed up the river four or five leagues, and then took into a branch of it that ran first to the eastward and then to the northward: here it became much narrower, and the stream excessively rapid, so that we gained but little way, though we wrought very hard. At night we landed upon its banks, and had a most uncomfortable lodging, it being a perfect swamp; and we had nothing to cover us, though it rained excessively. The Indians were little better off than we, as there was no wood here to make their wigwams; so that all they could do was to prop up the bark, which they carry in the bottom of their canoes, and shelter themselves as well as they could to the leeward of it. Knowing the difficulties they had to encounter here, they had provided themselves with some seal; but we had not a morsel to eat, after the heavy fatigues of the day, excepting a sort of root we saw the Indians make use of, which was very disagreeable to the taste. We laboured all next day against

the stream, and fared as we had done the day before. The next day brought us to the carrying place. Here was plenty of wood, but nothing to be got for sustenance. We passed this night as we had frequently done, under a tree; but what we suffered at this time is not easy to be expressed. I had been three days at the oar, without any kind of nourishment except the wretched root above mentioned. I had no shirt, for it had rotted off by bits. All my clothes consisted of a short grieko (something like a bear-skin), a piece of red cloth which had once been a waistcoat, and a ragged pair of trowsers, without shoes or stockings."

8 Page 6.-A Briton and a friend.

Don Patricio Gedd, a Scotch physician in one of the Spanish settlements, hospitably relieved Byron and his wretched associates, of which the Commodore speaks in the warmest terms of gratitude.

3 Page 7.-Or yield the lyre of Heav'n another string.

The seven strings of Apollo's harp were the symbo lical representation of the seven planets. Herschel, by discovering an eighth, might be said to add another string to the instrument.

4 Page 7.--The Swedish Sage. Linnæus.

Page 8.- Deep from his vaults the Loxian murmurs flow.

Loxias is a name frequently given to Apollo by Greek writers: it is met with more than once in the Choephora of Eschylus.

6

Page 9.-Unlocks a generous store at thy command, Like Horeb's rocks beneath the prophet's

hand.

See Exodus, chap. xvii. 3, 5, 6.

Page 13.--Wild Obi flies.

Among the negroes of the West Indies, Obi, or Obiah, is the name of a magical power, which is