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 There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young LoehinvarLochinvar [sic]!

The bride kiss'd 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, ere her mother could bar,- 'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lord 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-maidens whisper'd, ' 'Twere better by far, To have mateh'dmatch'd [sic] our fair eousincousin [sic] with young LoehinvarLochinvar [sic]!

One touehtouch [sic] to her hand, and one word in her carear [sic], When they reach'd the hall door and the charger stood near, So light to the eroupccroupe [sic] the fair lady he swung, So light on the saddle before her he sprung! 'ShcShe [sic] is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; ThcyThey [sic]'ll have fleet steeds that follow!' quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Fosters, FenwieksFenwicks [sic], and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing, and chasing on Connobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see! So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of a gallant like young Lochinvar! Sir Walter Scott.