Seven daughters had Lord Archibald, All children of one mother :
You could not say in one short day Their love for one another.
A garland, of seven lilies wrought, Seven sisters that together dwell;But he, bold knight as ever fought, Their father, took of them no thought-He loved the wars so well. Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie!
Fresh blows the wind, a western wind, And, from the shores of Erin,Across the wave, a rover brave To Binnorie is steering.
Right onward to the Scottish strand The gallant ship is borne;The warriors leap upon the land, And, hark! the leader of the band Hath blown his bugle-horn.
Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie !
Beside a grotto of their own,
With boughs above them closing, The seven are laid, and in the shadeThey lie, like fawns reposing. But now, upstarting with affright,At noise of man and steed, Away they fly, to left, to right-Of your fair household, father knight, Methinks you take small heed !
Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Away the seven fair Campbells fly; And, over hill and hollow,With menace proud and insult loud, The youthful rovers follow.
Cried they, " Your father loves to roam: Enough for him to findThe empty house when he comes home; For us your yellow ringlets comb,For us be fair and kind! " Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie !
Some close behind, some side to side, Like clouds in stormy weather,They run and cry, " Nay, let us die, And let us die together. "A lake was near; the shore was steep : There never foot had been;They ran, and with a desperate leap Together plunged into the deep,Nor ever more were seen. Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie !
The stream that flows out of the lake, As through the glen it rambles, Repeats a moan o"er moss and stoneFor those seven lovely Campbells. Seven little islands, green and bare,Have risen from out the deep; The fishers say those sisters fair By fairies all are buried there,And there together sleep. Sing mournfully, oh, mournfully, The solitude of Binnorie !
Old Ballad
Author.-As with many other old ballads, the author is unknown. The ancient ballad, product of a simple and unlettered age, was a spirited,unadorned, narrative poem, dealing with the elemental emotions-love, hate, pity, or fear. The authors" names have perished, and the ballads themselves, passing from mouth to mouth, and generation to generation, have probably been subjected to alterations and omissions.
General.-What emotions are awakened by the reading? Have suchdreadful things happened? (Read the story of the Massacre of Glencoe.) What means have been adopted, and what means have been proposed, to prevent barbarities of this nature? Which are the most mournful lines in the poem? Are there any cheerful ones?
