Weep, Albin!' to death and captivity led ! Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead: And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims,
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet,
Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave. Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat,

With the smoke of its ashes to poison the galeGo, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!

LOCHIEL Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

- Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, For never shall Albin a destiny meet This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. WIZARD.

Though my perishing ranks should be strew'd in their Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?

gore, Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Like ocean-weeds heap'd on the surf-beaten shore, Say, rush the bold eagle exultingly forth,

| Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north? | While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Ah! home let him speed,—for the spoiler is nigh. Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blastThose embers, like stars from the nrmament cast! 1 An account of the second sight, in Irish called Taish, is "T is the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven thus given in Martin's Description of the Western Isles of ScotFrom his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven.

of heaven. land. "The second sight is a singular faculty of seeing as Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,

otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used

by the person who sees it for that end. The vision makes such Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,

a lively impression upon the seers, that they neither see por Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn; think of anything else except the vision as long as it contines; Return to thy dwelling ! all lonely, return!

and then they appear pensive or jovial according to the object For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,

which was represented to them.

"At the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.

and the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is LOCHIEL.

obvious to others who are standing by when the persons happen False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshall’d my clan, to see a vision ; and occurred more than once to my owa Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! observation, and to others that were with me.

"There is one in Skie, of whom his acquaintance observed, They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,.

that when he sees a vision the inner parts of his eyelids turn to And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. far upwards, that, after the object disappears, he must draw

far upwards. Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock! them down with his fingers, and sometimes employs others to Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock! draw them down, which he finds to be much the easier way.

"This faculty of the second sight does not lineally descend But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,

in a family, as some have imagined; for I know several parents When Albin her claymore indignantly draws; who are endowed with it, and their cbildren are not; and THE When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, versa. Neither is it acquired by any previous compact. And Clanranald the dauntless, and Moray the proud, after strict inquiry, I could never learn from any among them, All plaided and plumed in their tartan array

that this faculty was communicable to any whatsoever. The keer

knows neither the object, tîme, nor place of a vision, before it WIZARD.

appears; and the same object is often seen by different persons Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day!

living at a considerable distance from one another. Tbe true For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,

way of judging as to the time and circumstances is by observa

tion; for severul persons of judgment who are without this But man cannot cover what God would reveal;

faculty are more capable to judge of the design of a vision than "T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,

a novice that is a seer. If an object appear in the day or night And coming events cast their shadows before. it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring

"If an object is seen early in a morning, which is not freWith the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive quent, it will be accomplished in a few hours afterwards; if at king.

noon, it will probably be accomplished that very day: if in the

evening, perhaps that night; if after candles be ligbted, it will Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath,

be accomplished that night: the latter always an accomplishBehold, where he Aies on his desolate path! ment by weeks, months, and sometimes years, according to the Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my time of the night the vision is seen.

"When a sbroud is seen about one, it is a sure prognostic of sight:

death. The time is judged according to the height of it about Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!

the person ; for if it is not seen above the middle, death is not "Tis finish'd. Their thunders are hush'd on the moors: to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.

longer : and as it is frequently seen to ascend higher towards But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?

the head, death is concluded to be at hand within a few days,

if not hours, as daily experience confirms. Examples of this For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.

kind were shown me, when the person of whom the observaSay, mounts he the ocean-wave, banishd, forlorn, tions were then made was in perfect bealth. Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?! “ It is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees in Ah, no! for a darker departure is near;

places void of all these, and this in process of time is wont to

be accomplished : as at Mogslot in the Isle of Skie, where there The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier ;

were but a few sorry low bouses thatched with straw: yet in a His death-bell is tolling : oh! Mercy, dispel

few years the vision, which appeared often, was accomplished Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell !

by the building of several good houses in the very spot repre sented to the seers, and by the planting of orchiards there.

| “To see a spark of fire is a forerunner of a dead child, to be 1 The Gaelic appellation of Scotland, more particularly the seen in the arns of those persons: of which there are several Highlands.

instances. To see a seat empty at the time of sitting in it, is 2 The lines allude to the many hardships of the royal sufferer. la presage of that person's death quickly after it.

Out spoke the victor then,

As he hail'd them o'er the wave;
OF Nelson and the North,

“Ye are brothers ! ye are men! Sing the glorious day's renown,

And we conquer but to save: When to battle fierce came forth

So peace instead of death let us bring : All the might of Denmark's crown,

But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; With the crews, at England's feet, By each gun the lighted brand,

And make submission meet
In a bold determined hand,

To our King."-
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.-

Then Denmark blest our chief,

That he gave her wounds repose ; Like leviathans afloat,

And the sounds of joy and grief Lay their bulwarks on the brine,

From her people wildly rose, While the sign of battle flew

As death withdrew his shades from the day. . On the lofty British line:

While the sun look'd smiling bright It was ten of April morn by the chime :

O'er a wide and woeful sight, As they drifted on their path,

Where the fires of funeral light
There was silence deep as death ;

Died away
And the boldest held his breath,
For a time

Now joy, Old England, raise !

For the tidings of thy might, But the might of England flush'd

By the festal cities' blaze, To anticipate the scene;

While the wine-cup shines in light; And her van the fleeter rush'd

"And yet, amidst that joy and uproar, O'er the deadly space between.

Let us think of them that sleep, * Hearts of oak!” our captains cried; when Full many a fathom deep, each gun

By thy wild and stormy steep,
From its adamantine lips

Elsinore !
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse

Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride
Of the sun

Once so faithful and so true,

On the deck of fame that died, Again! again! again!

With the gallant good Riou :' And the havoc did not slack,

Soft sigh the winds of Heav'n o'er their grave! Till a feeble cheer the Dane

While the billow mournful rolls, To our cheering sent us back ;

And the mermaid's song condoles, Their shots along the deep slowly boom :

Singing glory to the souls
Then ceased and all is wail,

of the brave!
As they strike the shatter'd sail ;
Or, in conflagration pale,
Light the gloom-

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. "When a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second

A NAVAL ODE siglat, sees a vision in the night-time without doors, and comes bear a fire, he presently falls into a swoon.

Ye mariners of England ! "Some find themselves as it were in a crowd, of people, hav

That guard our native seas, ing a corpee, which they carry along with them; and after such Vsions the seers come in sweating, and describe the vision that Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, appeared. If there be any of their acquaintance among them, The battle and the breeze! they give an account of their names, as also of the bearers; but

Your glorious standard launch again they know nothing concerning the corpse." Horses and cows (according to the same credulous author)

To match another foe! bave certainly sometimes the same faculty; and he endeavors to And sweep through the deep, prore it by the signs of fear which the animals exhibit, when While the stormy tempests blow; second-sigbled persons see visions in the same place.

While the battle rages loud and long, "The seers (he continues) are generally illiterate and wellmeaning people, and altogether void of design: nor could I ever

And the stormy tempests blow. learn that any of them ever made the least gain by it; neither

The spirits of your fathers Is it reputable among them to have that faculty. Besides, the people of the Isles are not so credulous as to believe implicity Shall start from every wavebefore the thing predicted is accomplished; but wben it is ac For the deck it was their field of fame, tually accomplisbed afterwards, it is not in their power to deny

And Ocean was their grave! It, without offering violence to their own sense and reason. Be

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, sides, if the seers were deceivers, can it be reasonable to imagine that all the islanders who bave not the second sight should com Your manly hearts shall glow, dide together, and offer violence to their understandings and As ye sweep through the deep, senses, to enforce themselves to believe a lie from age to age ?

While the stormy tempests blow; There are several persons among them whose title and education raise them above the suspicion of concurring with an im

While the battle rages loud and long, Dostor, merely to gratify an illiterate, contemptible set of per And the stormy tempests blow. NOE; Dor can reasonable persons believe that children, borses, and cows, should be pre-engaged in a combination in favor of the second sight.”-Martin's Description of the Western 181-1 1 Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by ends of Scotland, pp. 3. 11.

Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his dispatches.

Britannia needs no bulwark,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below,-
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

GLENARA. O HEARD ye yon pibrach sound sad in the gale, Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail ! "T is the chief of Glenara laments for his dear; And her sire, and the people, are callid to her bier. Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud; Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud : Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around : They march'd all in silence,—they look'd on the


The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow.

In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor, To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar; "Now here let us place the grey stone of her caim: Why speak ye no word ?"—said Glenara the stem. " And tell me, I charge you! ye clan of my spouse, Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?" So spake the rude chieftain no answer is made, But each mantle unfolding a dagger display'd. "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud." Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud; “ And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem: Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!”


On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

O! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,
When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen;
When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn,
'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:

I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief:
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd,
To join the dreadful revelry.

In dust, low the traitor has knelt to the ground, And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found; From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne, Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!

Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glow,
On Linden's hills of stained snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.

THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,

He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger,

The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee; But I have no refuge from famine and danger

A home and a country remain not to me. Never again, in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet

hours, Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,

And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh! Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken,

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten sbore; But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken, 1 And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave!
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

“O haste thee, haste!” the lady cries,

Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies,

But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her, When, oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest gather'd o'er her.

Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me
In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me?
Never again shall my brothers embrace me?

They died to defend me, or live to deplore!
Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood ?

Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall? Where is the mother that look'd on my childhood ?

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ? Oh! my sad heart! long abandon'd by pleasure, Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure? Tears, like the rain-drop, may fall without measure

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall. Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,

One dying wish my lone bosom can draw; Erin! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing !

Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh! Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean! And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devo

tion, Erin mavournin–Erin go bragh!'

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LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,

Cries, * Boatian, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound,

To row us o'er the ferry."—

”T was vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing :
The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

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But still as wilder blew the wind,

And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men,

Their trampling sounded nearer. 1 Ireland my darling,- Ireland for ever 2 The evil spirit of the waters.

Nor skill'd one flame alone to fan :
His country's high-soul'd peasantry
What patriot-pride he taught!-how much
To weigh the inborn worth of man!
And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.

Him, in his clay-built cot,' the muse
Entranced, and show'd him all the forms
Of fairy light and wizard gloom
(That only gifted Poet views),
The Genii of the floods and storms,
And martial shades from Glory's tomb.

Farewell! and ne'er may Envy dare
To wring one baneful poison drop
From the crush'd laurels of thy bust :
But while the lark sings sweet in air,
Still may the grateful pilgrim stop
To bless the spot that holds thy dust.


On Bannock-field what thoughts arouse
The Swain whom Burns's song inspires !

Beat not his Caledonian veins,
As o'er the heroic turf he plows,

Our bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had With all the spirit of his sires,

lour'd, And all their scorn of death and chains ?

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, And see the Scottish exile, tann'd

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. By many a far and foreign clime,

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Bend o'er his homeborn verse, and weep

By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, In memory of his native land,

At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, With love that scorns the lapse of time,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. And ties that stretch beyond the deep.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, Encamp'd by Indian rivers wild,

Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track: The soldier, resting on his arms,

'T was Autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way In Burns's carol sweet recalls

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. The scenes that blest him when a child, I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft And glows and gladdens at the charms

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young: Of Scotia's woods and waterfalls.

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers O deem not, midst this worldly strife,

sung. An idle art the Poet brings; Let high Philosophy control,

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore And sages calm the stream of life,

From my home and my weeping friends never to 'Tis he refines its fountain-springs,

My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, The nobler passions of the soul.

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fullness of heart. It is the muse that consecrates

Stay, stay with us,-rest, thou art weary and worn; The native banner of the brave,

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay: Unfurling, at the trumpet's breath,

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of mom, Rose, thistle, harp; 't is she elates

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
To sweep the field or ride the wave,
A sunburst in the storm of death.

And thou, young hero, when thy pall
Is cross'd with mournful sword and plume,

WRITTEN ON VISITING A SCENE IN ARGYLESHIRE When public grief begins to fade,

At the silence of twilight's contemplative hour, And only tears of kindred fall,

I have mused in a sorrowful mood, Who but the Bard shall dress thy tomb, On the wind-shaken weeds that embosom the bower, And greet with fame thy gallant shade? | Where the home of my forefathers stood.

| All ruin'd and wild is their roofless abode, Such was the soldier-BURNS, forgive ! And lonely the dark raven's sheltering tree: That sorrows of mine own intrude

And travell'd by few is the grass-cover'd road, In strains to thy great memory due.

Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode In verse like thine, oh! could he live,

To his hills that encircle the sea. The friend I mourn'd—the brave, the good

Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk, Edward that died at Waterloo !!

By the dial-stone aged and green,

One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, Farewell, high chief of Scottish song!

To mark where a garden had been. That couldst alternately impart

Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race, Wisdom and rapture in thy page,

| All wild in the silence of nature, it drew And brand each vice with satire strong ;

From each wandering sun-beam, a lonely embrace ; Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,

For the night-weed and thorn overshadow'd the place Whose truths electrify the sage.

Where the flower of my forefathers grew.

Sweet bud of the wilderness ! emblem of all i Bumns was born in Clay-cottage, which his father had built with his own hands.

That remains in this desolate heart! 2 Major Edward Hodge of the 7th Hussarg, who fell at the

he The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall, head of his squadron in the attack of the Polish Lancers. But patience shall never depart!

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