Salem! amidst the fiercest hour
The wildest rage of fight,
Thy name shall lend our falchions power,
And nerve our hearts with might,
Envied be those for thee that fall,
Who find their graves beneath thy sacred wall.
For them no need that sculptured tomb
Should chronicle their fame,
Or pyramid record their doom,
Or deathless verse their name;
It is enough that dust of thine
Should shroud their forms, O blessed Palestine !
Chieftains, lead on! our hearts beat high
For combat's glorious hour; Soon shall the red-cross banner fly
On Salem's loftiest tower!
We burn to mingle in the strife,
Where but to die ensures eternal life.
It was in the battle of Sheriffmoor that young Clanronald fell, leading on the Highlanders of the right wing. His death dispirited the assailants, who began to waver. But Glengary, chief of a rival branch of the Clan Colla, started from the ranks, and, waving his bonnet round his head, cried out, "To-day for revenge, and to-morrow for mourning!" Highlanders received a new impulse from his words, and, charging with redoubled fury, bore down all before them. -See the Quarterly Review, article of "Culloden Papers."
OH! ne'er be Clanronald the valiant forgot!
Still fearless and first in the combat, he fell;
But we paused not one tear-drop to shed o'er the spot,
We spared not one moment to murmur "Farewell."
We heard but the battle-word given by the chief,
"To-day for revenge, and to-morrow for grief!
And wildly Clanronald! we echoed the vow,
With the tear on our cheek, and the sword in our hand;
Young son of the brave! we may weep for thee now,
For well has thy death been avenged by thy band,
When they joined in wild chorus the cry of the chief,
"To-day for revenge, and to-morrow for grief!"
Thy dirge in that hour was the bugle's wild call,
The clash of the claymore, the shout of the brave;
But now thy own bard may lament for thy fall,
And the soft voice of melody sigh o'er thy grave,
While Albyn remembers the words of the chief,
“To-day for revenge, and to-morrow for grief!”
Thou art fallen, O fearless one! flower of thy race!
Descendant of heroes! thy glory is set!
But thy kindred, the sons of the battle and chace,
Have proved that thy spirit is bright in them yet!
Nor vainly have echoed the words of the chief,
"To-day for revenge, and to-morrow for grief! "
THRONE of expression! whence the spirit's ray
Pours forth so oft the light of mental day,
Where fancy's fire, affection's melting beam,
Thought, genius, passion, reign in turn supreme,
And many a feeling, words can ne'er impart,
Finds its own language to pervade the heart;
Thy power, bright orb, what bosom hath not felt,
To thrill, to rouse, to fascinate, to melt?
And by some spell of undefined control,
With magnet-influence touch the secret soul!
Light of the features! in the morn of youth
Thy glance is nature, and thy language, truth:
And ere the world, with all-corrupting sway,
Hath taught e'en thee to flatter and betray,
Th' ingenuous heart forbids thee to reveal,
Or speak one thought that interest would conceal;
While yet thou seem'st the cloudless mirror, given
But to reflect the purity of heaven;
Oh! then how lovely, there unveiled to trace
Th' unsullied brightness of each mental grace!
When Genlus lends thee all his living light,
Where the full beams of intellect unite,
When Love illumes thee with his varying ray,
Where trembling Hope and tearful Rapture play;
Or Pity's melting cloud thy beam subdues,
Tempering its lusture with a vale of dews;
Still does thy power, whose all-commanding spell
Can pierce the mazes of the soul so well,
Bid some new feeling to existence start,
From its deep slumbers in the inmost heart,
And oh! when thought, in ecstacy sublime,
That soars triumphant o'er the bounds of time,
Fires thy keen glance with inspiration's blaze,
The light of heaven, the hope of nobler days,
(As glorious dreams, for utterance far too high,
Flash through the mist of dim mortality ;)
Who does not own, that through thy lightning beams
A flame unquenchable, unearthly, streams?
That pure, though captive effluence of the sky,
The vestal-ray, the spark that cannot die ;
|