The Black-bird/The Maid of Lorn

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see [[]].

The Maid of Lorn.

Wake, Maid of Lorn, the moments fly,
 Which yet that maiden-name allow:
Wake, Maiden, wake, the hour is nigh,
 When love shall wake a plighted vow;

By fear, thy bosom's flut’ring guest,
 By hope, that soon shall fears remove,
We bid thee break the bonds of rest,
 And wake thee at the call of love.
    Wake, Maid, &c.

Wake, Edith, wake, in yonder bay
 Lies many a galley, gaily mann'd:
We hear the merry Pibroch play,
 We see the streamer’s silken band:
What Chieftain’s praise these Pibroch swell,
 What Crest is on thy banners wore,
The Harp, the Minstrel dare not tell,
 The riddle must be read in love.
    Wake, Maid, &c.

 

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