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and the war steed stamped in blood. Night closed round the warriors of victory; they rested on their swords amid the heaps of the slain; they kindled their watch fires on the field of the dead.
“ Mourn, thou lovely land of green fields *; the light of thy glory is dim; the hero of thy love f is fallen in the dawn of his fame!
“ Sad is thy tear, maid of Inistore; and thy locks, fair like the curling mist of the morning, are dishevelled as the wildness of the flying clouds: beat thy breast of mountain snow, and roll the red eye of thy tears. The young, the beautiful, the brave, lies low; he returneth no more to the feast of the hall, or the chase of the bounding deer.
Many are the tears that flow for thee, O fair-haired son of Clancola, many in the hall of thy fathers; thy * England.
+ General Wolfe.
sword is hung on the walls. Red was thy hand in the fight, and fleet thy. foot in the chase. Gone is the sound of mirth. Fair was thy form, O youth ; lovely and fair was thy open soul! What then availed the bloom of youth, and what the arm of strength ? He fell not in the clash of swords, but by the recreant bolt of the fearful; for his arm was like the whirl wind on the forest..
Weep not, chief of the rocky isle, for he fell in the morning of glory: his dirge was the yell of victory, and the shrieks of the flying foe. Many bards shall tell his name, and his memory shall be dear to the children of song. But the clouds of sorrow shall not al. ways hover on his memory: they shall weave his name in their songs of gladness, and in the deeds of the mighty.".
St. Clyde, though strange to these rude and feudal customs, was greatly interested in this old man's lay; which he perfectly understood, and bore witness to its genuine and natu. ral strength by his participation in the common feelings of the audience, who regularly accompanied the old bairdh's song and gesticulation with groans and tears, and with sudden and simultaneous expressions of ardour; and old Dunmoryen himself elenched his teeth and grasped his sword, when he Heard of his son's pomiing the way to victory.' “ And welcome,” said the bairdh, “ welcome to the halls of Dunmorven, the youth whom the warrior loved, whose young sword learned to smite by his side; O welcome! who bringeth home the golden-shelled sword of Clancola, that shone in the shock of the mighty. Dunmorven shall sleep in peace; the sword of his fathers is hung in his halls, and bards. shall behold it with joy. Dear as the memory of the brave; bright as the fame of his days. Thy love shall kiss thy shining steel, and clasp thee to the bosom of her grief. The valiant shall look on thee with pride, and remember the fame thou hast won.
The bagpipers of Dunmoryen and Mactorloisk, during dinner, played appropriate tunes, which made the castle echo again. One tune" The tears of Scotland,” the words of the song,
“ Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn,
Thy banished peace, thy laurels torn!
Lie slaughtered on their native ground !" was soon dismissed; and the burden of the pirroach was, “ Tranent Muirthe song being • The chevalier, being void of fear,
Did march up Brisli brae, man;
As fast as he could gae, man.
Wi' many a loud huzza, man;
We heard another craw, man."
But the tune " O'er the water to Charlie," was too much for the unextinguished principles of the vassals on the lawn; and they burst out in one tremendous voice,
« Come boat me o'er,
Come row me o'er,
I'll gi' John Ross
And “ The bonny lad with the white cockade" had almost raised, in the hall and on the lawn, an universal
of " God save Prince Charles !” but the chief called for the “ Birks of Abergeldie;" and St. Clydę being requested to bid the piper play next, “ Auld Rob-Morris that wons in yon glen," the too easily insubordinate minds of the vassals were turned from their PRINCE to the festivities of Dunmoryen castle.
It was a high day at the castle, and