Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she asked of his household and home: 'Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill, My hall,' quoth bold Allen, 'shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!' said Allen-a-Dale. The father was steel, and the mother was stone; They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone; But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry: He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye, And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale. PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil. Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war array, Gentles and Commons! Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy. Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one; Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one! Leave untended the herd, The flock without shelter; Leave the corpse uninterred, The bride at the altar. Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges; Come with your fighting-gear, Broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended: Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded. Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster; Chief, vassal, page, and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; See how they gather! Wide waves the eagle plume, Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set; Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, Knell for the onset! SONG FROM 'THE PIRATE' LOVE wakes and weeps While Beauty sleeps! O for music's softest numbers, To prompt a theme For Beauty's dream, Soft as the pillow of her slumbers! Through groves of palm Sigh gales of balm, Fire-flies on the air are wheeling; While through the gloom Comes soft perfume, The distant beds of flowers revealing. O wake and live! No dreams can give A shadowed bliss, the real excelling; No longer sleep, From lattice peep, And list the tale that Love is telling! ROSABELLE 'O LISTEN, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; Why cross the gloomy firth to-day? ''Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir To-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall. 'Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.'