LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER BY THOMAS CAMPBELL (1777-1844)

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?'

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,

'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 heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking

But still, as wilder blew the wind,

And as the night grew dearer

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 gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing;

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing

For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade;

Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your highland chief,

My daughter!- oh, my daughter

Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,

Return or aid preventing

The waters wild went o'er his child,

Ad he was left lamenting.