The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 87

Young Lochinvar

Young Lochinvar.

WORDS BY SIB WALTER SCOTT. Oh, young Loch-in-var is come out of the west, Through all the wide bor-der his steed was the best, And save his good broadsword he weap - on had none, He rode all un-armed and he rode all a - lone, So faithful in love and so daunt - less in war There ne - ver was knight like the young Loch - in - var.

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Esk 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 Ellen of young Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall
Among bridesmen, 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,
"Oh 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 here I am 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,
Who 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 lip, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could mar,
"Now tread we a measure," said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, 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 bridemaidens 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 near,
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 bank, bush, and scaur,
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," said young Lochinvar.

There was mounting mong Graemes 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,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?