JOANNA BAILLIE

. The Outlaw's Song

THE chough and crow to roost are gone, The owl sits on the tree, The hush'd wind wails with feeble moan,

Like infant chanty. The wild-fire dances on the fen,

The red star sheds its ray ; Uprouse ye then, my merry men ! It is our op'ning day.

Both child and nurse are fast asleep,

And closed is every flower, And winking tapers faintly peep

High from my lady's bower; Bewilder'd hinds with shorten'd ken

Shrink on their murky way ; Uprouse ye then, my merry men !

It is our op'ning day.

Nor board nor garner own we now,

Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow

To bless a good man's store ; Noon lulls us in a gloomy den,

And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye then, my merry men!

And use it as ye may.

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