Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war array,
Gentles and Commons!
Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and
True heart that wears one;
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one!
Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterr'd,
The bride at the altar.
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges;
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.
Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather :
Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set;
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Knell for the onset!
[Written for Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, 1816.]
O, young Lochinvar has come out of the west;
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none :
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so gallant in war!
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He stay'd not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone;
He swam the Eske river, where ford there was none:
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented the gallant came late—
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Helen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall,
Among bride'smen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all!
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”—
"I long woo'd your daughter-my suit you denied ;-
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ;-
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up;
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar :
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume,
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, " 'twere better by far,
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bush, loch, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they
There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?
[See the ballad of Katharine Janfarie in Scott's Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 122, on which Young Lochinvar is founded.]
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie-
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
shall be his bride;
And ye shall be his bride, ladie,
Sae comely to be seen:"-
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock of Hazeldean.
"Now let this wilful grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale:
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen:"
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock of Hazeldean.
"A chain o' gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o' them a',
Shall ride our forest queen :"
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock of Hazeldean.
The kirk was decked at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmered fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight were there :
They sought her baith by bower and ha';
The ladie was not seen!
She's o'er the Border, and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean!
["The first stanza of this ballad is ancient. The others were written
for Mr. Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, 1816."-Scorr.]
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