"O might I live to see that day, How blythely would I close my e'en ! I've seen enough could I but see My bonny Hay the Scottish queen. "Haste to the king, my little page, O but King Gregory was fain, The beauteous Hay was all his dream, And aye he haunted Leven side, And bent above the wave so cool; For there was no mirror in the land But the streamlet or the standing pool. And King Gregory saw his buirdly form But the rimy fringe upon his beard O but it grieved his heart to see, And ill he brooked the silver hairs That floated o'er his dark e'e-bree. But John of Erol he was sad, Nor wist he how to win the day; For well he knew he long had wooed And well he knew that maiden's love He knew that should the king assay He had much better meet again The lovely Hay sat in her bower, "The Highland hills are bonny hills, The heather-blooms their brows bedew "The braes are steep, and the dells are deep, "For all yon hills will soon be mine, "O he has rowed me in his plaid, And aye the southland breeze came bye, And sure so light and fair a form, Was never stretched on Ila's shore, And sure that moulded lily breast- Yet from that fair and comely form Her song is past, and gone the blast, Thou ne'er canst be Lord Athol's bride, The days rolled on. O they were long! For every hour she hoped to see No rescue came !-The day arrived,-- And at that gate Lord Athol stood, With sevenscore clansmen him behind, Shouting "To arms, to arms, hurra! "Haste, warder, to the northern tower, O loud loud did the maiden laugh, And loud loud was the knock and call, He heaved the guard-stone from the earth, With strength beyond the wizard's spell, And dashed it on the iron gate, Till bolts and bars in flinders fell. Old Erol came into the court, He saw that better might not be, He touched his bonnet with his hand, "Lord Athol, if thou'rt come to fight, Trust me, thou shalt have routh of weir; Lord Athol, if thou'rt come to feast, A frown hung on Lord Athol's brow; |