Young Lochinvar (1)/Young Lochinvar

YOUNG LOCHINVAR.

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O! Young Lochinvar has come out of the west,
Through all the wide border his steed was the ⟨best;⟩
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons ⟨had⟩ ⟨none,⟩
He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopped 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 Helen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Among bridemen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all;
Then spake the bride’s father, his hand on his ⟨sword⟩
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word)
"O 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 as its tide—
And now 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—
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed 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 lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, e’er her mother could bar,
'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and 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 bride-maiden’s 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 croup 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, quoth young Lochinvar!

There was mounting ’mong Grames of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, 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 he e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar