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 And fast before her father's men, Three day's we've fled together; For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.—

His horseman hard behind us ride Should they our steps discover. Then, who would cheer my bonny bride, When they have slain her lover?'

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, I'll go, my chief— I'm ready; It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady.

And by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry: So—though the waves be raging wide— I'll row you o'er the ferry!—'

By this the storm grew loud арасе, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men! Their trampling sounded nearer!

Oh! haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, 'Though tempests round us gather, I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.'

The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her—