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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