Journeys through Bookland : a new and original plan for reading applied to the world's best literature for children . ^ CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlandsbound,Cries, Boatman, do not tarry!And Ill give thee a silver pound,To row us oer the ferry. Now who be ye,would cross Lochgyle,This dark and stormy water?O, Im the chief of Ulvas this Lord Ullins daughter. And fast before her fathers men Three days weve fled should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps who will cheer my bonny bride When t
Journeys through Bookland : a new and original plan for reading applied to the world's best literature for children . ^ CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlandsbound,Cries, Boatman, do not tarry!And Ill give thee a silver pound,To row us oer the ferry. Now who be ye,would cross Lochgyle,This dark and stormy water?O, Im the chief of Ulvas this Lord Ullins daughter. And fast before her fathers men Three days weve fled should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover? Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, Ill go, my chief—Im ready;It is not for your silver bright. But for your winsome lady: And by my word! the bonny birdIn danger shall not tarry; 23 24 Lord Ullins Daughter So though the waves are raging white,Ill row you oer the BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY! By this the storm grew loud apace,The water-^^raith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each faceGrew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind,And as the night grew drearer, Lord Ullins Daughter 25 Adown the glen rode armed men,Their tramphng sounded nearer. O haste thee, haste! the lady cries,Though tempests round us gather; Ill meet the raging of the skies,But not an angry father. The boat had left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her,—When, oh! too strong for human hand. The tempest gatherd oer her. And still they rowd amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing:Lord Ullin reachd that fatal shore, His wrath was changed to wailing. For sore dismayd, through storm and shade. His child he did discover:—One lovely hand she stretchd for aid. And one was round her lover. Come back! come back! he cried in grief, Across this stormy M^ater:And Ill forgive your Highland chief. My daughter!—oh my daughter! Twas vain: the loud waves lashe
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidjourneysthro, bookyear1922
