'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief 'Across this stormy water; And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! O my daughter!'

'Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?' 'O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

A chieftain to the Highlands bound Cries, 'Boatman, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound To row us o'er the ferry!'