Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels

[blocks in formation]

THERE IS MIST ON THE MOUNTAIN AND NIGHT ON THE VALE.

[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[graphic]

Now he hears the pipes lamenting,
Harpers for his mother mourn,
Slow, with sable plume and pennon,
To her cairn of burial borne.

Then anon his dreams are darker,
Sounds of battle fill his ears,
And the pibroch's mournful wailing
For his father's fall he hears.

Wild Lochaber's mountain echoes
Wail in concert for the dead,

And Loch Awe's deep waters murmur
For the Campbell's glory fled!

Fierce and strong the godless tyrants

Trample the apostate land,

While her poor and faithful remnant Wait for the avenger's hand.

Once again at Inverary,

Years of weary exile o'er,

Armed to lead his scattered clansmen, Stands the bold MacCallum More.

Once again to battle calling

Sound the war-pipes through the glen, And the court-yard of Dunstaffnage Rings with tread of arméd men.

All is lost! the godless triumph,
And the faithful ones and true
From the scaffold and the prison
Covenant with God anew.

On the darkness of his dreaming
Great and sudden glory shone;
Over bonds and death victorious
Stands he by the Father's Throne!
From the radiant ranks of martyrs
Notes of joy and praise he hears,
Songs of his poor land's deliverance
Sounding from the future years.
Lo, he wakes! but airs celestial
Bathe him in immortal rest,
And he sees with unsealed vision
Scotland's cause with victory blest.

Shining hosts attend and guard him
As he leaves his prison door;
And to death as to a triumph
Walks the great MacCallum More!
ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER.

"Down the glen, beyond the castle. Where the linn's swift waters shine."

Fairest of the rustic dancers,

Blue-eyed Effie smiles once more, Bends to him her snooded tresses,

Treads with him the grassy floor.

OW charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbéd, as dull fools suppose,

But musical as is Apollo's lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« PreviousContinue »