Volume 61 / Part 2 — SCOTTISH MELODIES BY DELTA.

Shon’st thou but to pass away, Chieftain, in thy bright noon-day? (All who knew thee, love thee!) Who to Eric would not yield? Red hand in the battle field, Kinsman’s idol, Beauty’s shield, Flowers we strew above thee! Eagle-like, in Glory’s sky, Soar’d thy dauntless spirit high; (All who knew thee, love thee!) Scion of a matchless race, Strong in form, and fair of face, First in field, and first in chase, Flowers we strew above thee! Three to one Argyle came on, Yet thy glance defiance shone; (All who knew thee, love thee!) Fear thine Islesmen never knew; We were firm, tho’ we were few; And in front thy banner flew:— Flowers we strew above thee! What mere men could do was done; Two at least we slew for one; (All who knew thee, love, thee!) But, ah fatal was our gain! For, amid the foremost slain, Lay’st thou, whom we mourn in vain: Flowers we strew above thee! Mourn!—nor own one tearless eye, Barra, Harris, Uist, and Skye! (All who knew thee, love thee!) Eric! low thou liest the while, Shadowed by Iona’s pile; May no step thy stone defile:— Flowers we strew above thee!

Ere the twilight bat was flitting, In the sunset, at her knitting, Sang a lonely maiden, sitting Underneath her threshold tree; And, as daylight died before us, And the vesper star shone o’er us, Fitful rose her tender chorus— “Jamie’s on the stormy sea!” Warmly shone that sunset glowing; Sweetly breathed the young flowers blowing; Earth, with beauty overflowing, Seem’d the home of love to be, As those angel tones ascending, With the scene and season blending, Ever had the same low ending— “Jamie’s on the stormy sea!” Curfew bells remotely ringing, Mingled with that sweet voice singing; And the last red rays seem’d clinging Lingeringly to tower and tree: Nearer as I came, and nearer, Finer rose the notes, and clearer; Oh! ’twas heaven itself to hear her— “Jamie’s on the stormy sea!” “Blow, ye west winds! blandly hover O’er the bark that bears my lover; Gently blow, and bear him over To his own dear home and me; For, when night winds bend the willow, Sleep forsakes my lonely pillow, Thinking of the foaming billow— “Jamie’s on the stormy sea!” How could I but list, but linger, To the song, and near the singer, Sweetly wooing heaven to bring her Jamie from the stormy sea: And, while yet her lips did name me, Forth I sprang—my heart o’ercame me— “Grieve no more, sweet, I am Jamie, Home returned, to love and thee!”