And right at the time of the matin chime And murmurs deep around him did creep, The matin bell was tolling farewell For aye, at the knell of the matin bell, The sigh of the trees and the rush of the breeze And the frost of the dead clings round their head, The Knight took up the emerald cup,' They inwardly mourn'd, and the thin blood return'd And each frozen eye, so cold and so dry, 'Gan roll with lustre dim. Then brave St. Clair did turn him there, To retrace the mystic track, He heard the sigh of his lady fair, He started quick and his heart beat thick, But the parting bell on his ear it fell, With panting breast, as he forward press'd, He strode on a mangled head; And the scull did scream, and the voice did seem The voice of his mother dead. He shuddering trod :-On the great name of God He thought-but he nought did say ; And the greensward did shrink, as about to sink, And loud laugh'd the Elfins gray. And loud did resound, o'er the unbless'd ground, And the ghostly crew to reach him flew, The morning was gray, and dying away And far to the west the fays that ne'er rest And Sir Geoffry the Bold, on the unhallow'd mould, And he felt his limbs, like a dead man's, cold, And he wist not where he was. And that cup so rare, which the brave St. Clair Did bear from the ghostly crew, Was suddenly changed, from the emerald fair, To the ragged whinstone blue; And instead of the ale that mantled there Was the murky midnight dew. LEYDEN. SIR RALPH THE ROVER. No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, Without either sign, or sound of their shock, The abbot of Aberbrothok Had floated that bell on the Inchcape Rock; When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell, The sun in heaven shone so gay- The float of the Inchcape Bell was seen, His eye was on the bell and float- Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound; Quoth Sir Ralph, the next who comes to the Rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothok. Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away; He scour'd the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plunder'd store, So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky, On the deck the Rover takes his stand; But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell. VOL. III. HH Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair; One dreadful sound he seem'd to hear; SOUTHEY. SCOTTISH BALLAD. FAIR Lady Ann sat in her bower, And the flowres did spring, and the byrdes did sing, "Twas the merry Mayday tyde. But fair Lady Ann on Sir William call'd, O, though thou be fause, may Heaven thee guard Out of the wood cam three bonny boys A' nakit as they were borne; And they did sing and play at the ba't O, sevin lang zear wad I sit here A to ha but ane of thae § bonny boys Then up and spak the eldest boy, * Eye. + Ball. § These. |