Clarke Courier

The following petit morceau is said to be from the pen of Sir Walter Scott. It is so true to nature that its beauties are palpable to the most ordinary intellect. The compliment to the bravery of the Scotch Highlanders is very fine, and introduced, apparently so much by accident, that one does not perceive any flattery in it:

Hear what Highland Nora said

"The Erlie's son I will not wed.

Should all the race of nature die,

And none be left but he and I;

For all the gold, for all the gear,

For all the lands both far and near,

That ever valor lost or won,

I would not wed the Erlie's son."

"A maiden's vows," old Callum spoke

"Are lightly made and lightly broke;

The heather on the mountain's height,

Begins to bloom in purple light;

The frost wind soon shall sweep away

The lustre deep from glen and brae;

Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,

May blithly wed the Erlie's son."

"The swan," she said, "the lake's clear breast

May barter for the eagle's nest;

The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn;

Ben-Cruaichan fall and crush Kilchurn

Our kilted clans, when blood is high,

Before their foes may turn and fly:

But I, were all these miracles done,

Would never marry the Erlie's son."

Still in the water-lily's shade

Her wonted nest the wild swan made:

Ben-Cruachan stands as fast as ever;

Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;

To shun the clash of foeman's steel,

No Highland brogue has turned the heel;

But Nora's heart is lost and won,

She's wedded to the Erlie's son.