66

"I canna mak ye a king," said he, For the Lord alone can do that; And besides ye took it intil yer ain han',

And crooned yersel' sae pat!

"But wi' what ye will I redeem my ring;

For ance I am at your beck. And first, as ye loutit Skipper o' Doon,

Rise up Yerl o' Quarterdeck.”

The skipper he rose and looked at the king

In his een for all his croon; Said the skipper, "Here is yer grace's ring,

And yer daughter is my boon."

The reid blude sprang into the king's face,

A wrathful man to see: "The rascal loon abuses our grace; Gae hang him upon yon tree."

But the skipper he sprang aboard his ship,

And he drew his biting blade; And he struck the chain that held her fast,

But the iron was ower weel made..

And the king he blew a whistle loud; And tramp, tramp, down the pier,

Cam' twenty riders on twenty steeds, Clankin' wi' spur and spear.

"He saved your " cried the lady

66

fair;

"His life ye dauna spill!” "Will ye come atween me and my hate?"

Quo the lady, "And that I will!"

And on cam the knights wi' spur and spear,

For they heard the iron ring. "Gin ye care na for yer father's grace,

Mind ye that I am the king."

"I kneel to my father for his grace, Right lowly on my knee;

But I stand and look the king in the face,

For the skipper is king o' me."

"When she took the ground, She went to pieces like a lock of hay Tossed from a pitchfork. Ere it came to that,

The captain reeled on deck with two small things,

One in each arm- his little lad and lass.

Their hair was long and blew before his face,

Or else we thought he had been saved; he fell,

But held them fast. The crew, poor luckless souls!

The breakers licked them off; and some were crushed,

Some swallowed in the yeast, some flung up dead,

The dear breath beaten out of them: not one

Jumped from the wreck upon the reef to catch

The hands that strained to reach, but tumbled back

With eyes wide open. But the captain lay

And clung-the only man alive. They prayed

'For God's sake, captain, throw the children here!'

"Throw them!' our parson cried; and then she struck: And he threw one, a pretty two years' child,

But

the gale dashed him on the slippery verge,

And down he went. They say they heard him cry.

"We hauled our men in: two of

them were dead

The sea had beaten them, their heads hung down;

Our parson's arms were empty, for the wave

Had torn away the pretty, pretty lamb;

We often see him stand beside her

grave:

But 'twas no fault of his, no fault of his."

JEAN INGELOW.

THE DROWNED LOVERS.

WILLIE stands in his stable door,
And clapping at his steed;
And looking o'er his white fingers,
His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn to my horse, mother;
And meat to my young man:
And I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"O bide this night wi' me, Willie,
O bide this night wi' me;
The best an' cock o' a' the reest,
At your supper shall be."

A' your cocks, and a' your reests, I value not a prin;

For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"Stay this night wi' me, Willie,
O stay this night wi' me;
The best an' sheep in a' the flock
At your supper shall be."

"A' your sheep, and a' your flocks, I value not a prin;

For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"O an' ye gang to Meggie's bower,
Sae sair against my will,
The deepest pot in Clyde's water,
My malison ye's feel."

"The guid steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thretty pound;
And I'll put trust in his swift feet,
To hae me safe to land."

66

'Ishae few lovers thereout, there⚫ out,

As few hae I therein;

The best an' love that ever I had,
Was here just late yestreen."

"The warstan stable in a' your stables,

For my puir steed to stand; The warstan bower in a' your bowers,

For me to lie therein:

My boots are fu' o' Clyde's water,
I'm shivering at the chin."

"My barns are fu' o' corn, Willie,
My stables are fu' o' hay;
My bowers are fu' o' gentlemen;·
They'll nae remove till day.”

"O fare-ye-well, my fause Meggie, O farewell, and adieu;

I've gotten my mither's malison,
This night coming to you."

As he rode ower yon high, high hill,

And down yon dowie den;
The rushing that was in Clyde's

water

Took Willie's cane fra him.

He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, To catch his cane again;

The rushing that was in Clyde's

water

Took Willie's hat frae him.