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"Girt with many a baron bold, Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
In bearded majesty, appear.
Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
Attempered sweet to virgin-grace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
"The verse adorn again
Fierce war, and faithful love, And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough for me; with joy I see
The different doom our fates assign.
Be thine despair, and sceptred care; To triumph, and to die, are mine." He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
Wizard. Lochiel! Lochiel, beware of the day
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!
For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight:
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
What steed to the desert flies frantic
'Tis thine, Oh Glenullin! whose
bride shall await,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
Wizard. - Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,
From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north?
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction. abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh.
Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven.
Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
Whose banners arise on the battlement's height,
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;
Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood,
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore.
And coming events cast their shadow before.
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring
With the bloodhounds, that bark for thy fugitive king.
Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath,
Behold; where he flies on his desolate path!
Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight: Rise! rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!
'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors; Culloden is lost, and my country deplores;
But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn,
Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?
Ah, no! for a darker departure is near;
ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS
SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled;
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Let him follow me!
By oppression's woes and pains!
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Let us do, or die!
CROMWELL AND KING CHARLES.
'Tis madness to resist or blame
As if his highest plot
And Hampton shows what part He had of wiser art; Where, twining subtile fears with hope,
I MIND it weel, in early date,
And first could thresh the barn; Or haud a yokin' at the pleugh; An' though forfoughten sair eneugh, Yet unco proud to learn!
Even then, a wish (I mind its power), A wish that to my latest hour
Shall strongly heave my breast That I for poor auld Scotland's sake Some usefu' plan or book could make,
Or sing a sang at least.
The rough burr-thistle spreading wide
Amang the bearded bear,
I turned the weedin'-heuk aside,
BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.
OF Nelson and the North,
By each gun the lighted brand,
Like leviathans afloat,
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
It was ten of April morn by the chime:
As they drifted on their path,
But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak," our captains cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Outspoke the victor then,
As he hailed them o'er the wave,
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,
Then Denmark blest our chief,
As death withdrew his shades from the day;
While the sun looked smiling bright
Now joy, old England, raise!
Let us think of them that sleep,
Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
While the billow mournful rolls,
Of the brave!