The waters wild went o'er his child, THOMAS CAMPBELL. THE CRUSADER'S RETURN. I. HIGH deeds achieved of knightly fame, II. "Joy to the fair! — thy knight behold, No wealth he brings, nor wealth can need, His spurs to dash against a foe, His lance and sword to lay him low; Such all the trophies of his toil, Such — and the hope of Tekla's smile! III. "Joy to the fair! whose constant knight Her favor fired to feats of might! Unnoted shall she not remain Where meet the bright and noble train; Minstrel shall sing, and herald tell 'Mark yonder maid of beauty well, 'Tis she for whose bright eyes was won The listed field of Ascalon! "Note well her smile! IV. it edged the blade Which fifty wives to widows made, When, vain his strength and Mahound's spell, Seest thou her locks, whose sun ny glow But for its sake a Paynim bled!' "Joy to the fair! V. My name unknown, Ivanhoe. ELSPETH'S BALLAD. Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle. And listen great and sma', And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl The cronach 's cried on Bennachie, And hieland and lawland may mournfu' be They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds, With a chafron of steel on each horse's head, And a good knight upon his back. They hadna ridden a mile, a mile, When Donald came branking down the brae Their tartans they were waving wide, Their glaives were glancing clear, The pibrochs rung frae side to side, Would deafen ye to hear. The great Earl in his stirrups stood, That Highland host to see: "Now here a knight that's stout and good May prove a jeopardie: "What wouldst thou do, my squire so gay, "To turn the rein were sin and shame, What would ye do now, Roland Cheyne, "Were I Glenallan's Earl this tide, And ye were Roland Cheyne, The spur should be in my horse's side, "If they hae twenty thousand blades, "My horse shall ride through ranks sae rude, - Then ne'er let the gentle Norman blude Grow cauld for Highland kerne." SIR WALTER SCOTT. The Antiquar HOHENLINDEN.1 ON Linden, when the sun was low, But Linden saw another sight, By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, 1 The battle of Hohenlinden was fought between the French and Bavarians, under Moreau, and the Austrians, under the Archduke John, December 3, 1800, and resulted in the defeat of the Austrians. And furious every charger neigh'd, Then shook the hills with thunder riven, But redder yet that light shall glow, 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few shall part where many meet! Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. THOMAS CAMPBELL |