Harold was born where restless seas
Howl round the storm-swept Orcades;
Where erst St. Clairs held princely sway
O'er isle and islet, strait and bay ;—
Still nods their palace to its fall,
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall! Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland rave, As if grim Odin rode her wave;
And watched, the whilst, with visage pale, And throbbing heart, the struggling sail; For all of wonderful and wild
Had rapture for the lonely child.
And much of wild and wonderful
In these rude isles might Fancy cull;
For thither came, in times afar,
Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war,
The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood,
Skilled to prepare the raven's food;
Kings of the main their leaders brave,
Their barks the dragons of the wave.
And there, in many a stormy vale,
The Scald had told his wondrous tale;
And many a Runic column high
Had witnessed grim idolatry.
And thus had Harold, in his youth,
Learned many a Saga's rhyme uncouth,→→
Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curled,
Whose monstrous circle girds the world;
Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell
Maddens the battle's bloody swell;
Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom
By the pale death-lights of the tomb,
Ransacked the graves of warriors old,
Their falchions wrenched from corpses' hold,
Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms,
And bade the dead arise to arms!
With war and wonder all on flame,
To Roslin's bowers young Harold came,
Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree,
He learned a milder minstrelsy;
Yet something of the northern spell
Mixed with the softer numbers well.
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell: Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
" Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
"The blackening wave is edged with white;' To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch:
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ?”—
""Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the bal!,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.
""Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle."-
O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; 'Twas broader than the watch fire light, And redder than the bright moon-beam.
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; Twas seen from Dreyden's groves of oak, And seen from caverned Hawthornden.
Seemed all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie;
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seemed all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
And glimmered all the dead men's mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair-
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle ;
Each one the holy vault doth hold-
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !
And each St. Clair was buried there,
With candle, with book, and with knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
So sweet was Harold's piteous lay,
Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall, Thongh, long before the sinking day,
A wondrous shade involved them all :
It was not eddying mist or fog,
Drained by the sun from fen or bog;
Of no eclipse had sages told;
And yet, as it came on apace,
Each one could scarce his neighbour's face, Could scarce his own stretched hand behold.
A secret horror checked the feast,
And chilled the soul of every guest;
Even the high Dame stood half aghast,
She knew some evil on the blast;
The elvish Page fell to the ground, [found!" And, shuddering, muttered, "Found! found!
Then sudden, through the darkened air
A flash of lightning came;
So broad, so bright, so red the glare,
The castle seemed on flame.
Glanced every rafter of the hall,
Glanced every shield upon the wall,
Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone,
Were instant seen, and instant gone ;
Full through the guests' bedazzled band
Resistless flashed the levin-brand,
And filled the hall with smouldering smoke,
As on the elvish Page it broke.
It broke, with thunder long and loud,
Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud,-
From sea to sea the larum rung;
On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal,
To arms the startled warders sprung.
When ended was the dreadful roar,
The elvish Dwarf was seen no more!
Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall,
Some saw a sight, not seen by all;
That dreadful voice was heard by some,
Cry, with loud summons, "GYLBIN, COME!"
And on the spot were burst the brand,
Just where the Page had flung him down,
Some saw an arm, and some a hand,
And some the waving of a gown.
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