Allons, courage! O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine, A cette heureuse f ontaine, Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage, Que quelques vilains troupeaux, Suivis de nymphes de village, Qui les escortent sans sabots--' 'A truce, dear Fergus! spare us those most tedious and insipid persons of all Arcadia.

Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor upon us.' 'Nay, if you cannot relish la houlette et le chalumeau, have with you in heroic strains.' 'Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of Mac-Murrough's cup rather than of mine.' 'I disclaim it, ma belle demoiselle, although I protest it would be the more congenial of the two.

Which of your crack-brained Italian romancers is it that says, Io d'Elicona niente Mi curo, in fe de Dio; che'l bere d'acque (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre mi spiacque! [Footnote: Good sooth, I reck nought of your Helicon; Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.] But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu.

Come, Cathleen, astore (i.e.my dear), begin; no apologies to the cean-kinne.' Cathleen sung with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more than once.

[Footnote: This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the Highlands and in Ireland It was translated into English, and published, if I mistake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the title of 'Colley, my Cow.'] 'Admirable, Cathleen!' cried the Chieftain; 'I must find you a handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days.' Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her companion.
In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to join.