OF THE OLD WORLD. 441 



We've traversed the land, and we've sail'd o'er the main — 



Now the hour 's near at hand to set forth again. 



Fearless of danger, we roam in all weather ; 



No peril can daunt us while we are together. 



No maiden so fair but she causes remorse : 



I have known none with thee, my own gallant horse I 



I never found friend in the hour of my need 



True as thee, " Desert-born," my brave Arab steed ! 



Chords. 



I 'm mounted ! I 'm mounted ! I 'm away like the wind ; 

 No steed in the desert can leave me behind. 

 Al-ham-du-lillah ! — I fear not a foe ; 

 I 'm free as the breezes that o'er the sands blow I 



THE WOUNDED HIGHLANDER. 



RECITATIVE. 



The eve the Alma's heights were won, 



As o'er the field I trod, 

 I mark'd a wounded Highlander 



Lie bleeding on the sod. 

 His brother strove to stanch the wound ; 



Alas ! it was in vain : 

 Dark crimson streams flow'd on the ground ; 



And he sang this sad strain : — 



" Ye maunna weep for me, Willie 1 



Oh dinna greet sae sair : 

 Ye '11 follow me ere lang, laddie, 



When we shall part na mair ! 

 Like yonder setting sun, Willie, 



E'en sae my course is run ; 

 But he will rise again, laddie, 



And I shall then be gone ! 



