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LOCHINVAR.

OH, young Lochinvar is come out of the | The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,

west!

Through all the wide border his steed was He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the best; the cup! And save his good broadsword he weapon She looked down to blush, and she looked had none,up to sighHe rode all unarmed, and he rode all With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her alone! eye.

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So faithful in love, and so dauntless in He took her soft hand, ere her mother could
war,
There never was knight like the young
Lochinvar !

"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not So stately his form, and so lovely her for stone,

face,

He swam the Eske river where ford there That never a hall such a galliard did

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For the poor craven bridegroom said never So light to the croupe the fair lady he a word:

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swung,

O come ye in peace here, or come ye in So light to the saddle before her he sprung! She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;

war,

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord
Lochinvar?""

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied:

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!

There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,

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 ran;

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie
Lea,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did
they see!-

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Who would gladly be bride to the young Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar!"

Lochinvar !

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

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THERE was not such a gracious creature born.

But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud,

And chase the native beauty from his cheek,

And he will look as hollow as a ghost,

As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,

And so he'll die; and, rising so again,

heaven

IV.

REFLECTIONS ON LIFE.

TO-MORROW, and to-morrow, and to

morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief

candle ! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

When I shall meet him in the court of And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

I shall not know him: therefore never,

never

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FEAR OF DEATH.

V.

WOMAN'S TONGUE,

THINK you, a little din can daunt mine

ears?

Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds,

Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the

field,

And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trum-
pets' clang?

And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, COWARDS die many times before their That gives not half so great a blow to the ear

deaths:

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As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?

VI. HONOUR.

HONOUR travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;

For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost.

VII.

AGAINST DELAY.

LET'S take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quickest decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them.

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