No time for matin or for mass, And the sounds of the holy summons pass Away in the billows' roll. Lochbuie's fierce and warlike Lord Their signal saw, and grasp'd his sword, And verdant Ilay call'd her host, And the clans of Jura's rugged coast Lord Ronald's call obey, And Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore Still rings to Corrievreken's roar, And lonely Colonsay; -Scenes sung by him who sings no more! His bright and brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains; Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, A distant and a deadly shore Has LEYDEN's cold remains! XII. Ever the breeze blows merrily, But the galley ploughs no more the sea. Lest, rounding wild Cantire, they meet The southern foemen's watchful fleet, They held unwonted way; Up Tarbat's western lake they bore, As far as Kilmaconnel's shore, Upon the eastern bay. It was a wond'rous sight to see For ancient legends told the Gael, That when a royal bark should sail Old Albyn should in fight prevail, And every foe should faint and quail Before her silver Cross. XIII. Now launch'd once more, the inland sea They furrow with fair augury, And steer for Arran's isle; The sun, ere yet he sunk behind Ben-ghoil, "the Mountain of the Wind," Gave his grim peaks a greeting kind, And bade Loch-Ranza smile. Thither their destined course they drew; It seem'd the isle her monarch knew, So brilliant was the landward view, The ocean so serene; K Each puny wave in diamonds roll'd O'er the calm deep, where hues of gold With azure strove and green. The hill, the vale, the tree, the tower, Glow'd with the tints of evening's hour, The beach was silver sheen, The wind breathed soft as lover's sigh, With breathless pause between. O who, with speech of war and woes, Of such enchanting scene! XIV. Is it of war Lord Ronald speaks? The timid look, and down-cast eye, And faultering voice the theme deny. He ponder'd o'er some high request, As doubtful to approve; Yet in his eye and lip the while Dwelt the half-pitying glance and smile, Anxious his suit Lord Ronald pled; "And for my bride betrothed," he said, "My Liege has heard the rumour spread Of Edith from Artornish fled. Too hard her fate-I claim no right Be joy and happiness her lot !- Mine honour I should ill assert, And worse the feelings of my heart, If I should play a suitor's part Again, to pleasure Lorn." |