<h3><SPAN name="Lochinvar" id="Lochinvar"></SPAN>Lochinvar.</h3>
<div class="pre_poem"><p>"Lochinvar" and "Lord Ullin's Daughter," the first by Scott (1771-1832)
and the second by Campbell (1777-1844), are companions in sentiment and
equally popular with boys who love to win anything desirable by heroic
effort.</p>
</div>
<table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Through all the wide Border his steed was the best,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And save his good broadsword he weapons had none;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">He swam the Eske River where ford there was none;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">But ere he alighted at Netherby gate<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The bride had consented, the gallant came late:<br/></span>
<span class="i0">For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all:<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword<br/></span>
<span class="i0">(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word),<br/></span>
<span class="i0">"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">He quaffed of the wine, and he threw down the cup.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar,—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">So stately his form, and so lovely her face,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">That never a hall such a galliard did grace;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And the bridemaidens whispered, "'Twere better by far<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">So light to the saddle before her he sprung!<br/></span>
<span class="i0">"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:<br/></span>
<span class="i0">There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?<br/></span></div>
</td></tr></table>
<p class="quotsig"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />