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MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.

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(1816.) The moon's on the lake, and the mist's

on the brae, And the Clan has a name that is

nameless by day ; Then gather, gather, gather,

Grigalach !

Gather, gather, gather, &c. Oursignal for fight, that from monarchs

we drew, Must be heard but by night in our

vengeful haloo ! Then haloo, Grigalach ! haloo,

Grigalach !

Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, &c. Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coal

chuirn and her towers, Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer

are ours ; We're landless, landless, landless,

Grigalach!

Landless, landless, landless, &c. But doom'd and devoted by vassal and

lord, MacGregor has still both his heart and

his sword! Then courage, courage, courage,

Grigalach !

Courage, courage, courage, &c. If they rob us of name, and pursue us

with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame, and their

flesh to the eagles ! Then vengeance, vengeance,

vengeance, Grigalach ! Vengeance, vengeance,

geance, &c. While there's leaves in the forest, and

foam on the river, MacGregor, despite them, shall flour

ish for ever!

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O'er his just resentment victor,
Victor over Europe's foes,
Late and long supreme director,
Grant in peace his reign may close.
Hail! then, hail ! illustrious stranger;
Welcome to our mountain strand;
Mutual interests, hopes, and danger,
Link us with thy native land.

Freemen's force, or false beguiling,
Shall that union ne'er divide,
Hand in hand while peace is smiling,
And in battle side by side.

THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS;

OR THE QUEST OF SULTAUN SOLIMAUN,

(1817.)
(In imitation of Byron.)

For me, I love the honest heart and

warm Of Monarch who can amble round his

farm, Or, when the toil of state no more

annoys, In chimney corner seek domestic

joys. I love a prince will bid the bottle pass, Exchanging with his subjects glance

and glass ; In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay, Keep up the jest, and mingle in the

lay. Such Monarchs best our free-born

humours suit, But Despots must be stately, stern,

and mute.

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III.

This Solimaun, Serendib had in sway-
And where's Serendib? may some

critic say.

before us,

Good lack,mine honest friend, consult

the chart, Scare not my Pegasus before I start! If Rennell has it not, you 'll find, may

hap, The isle laid down in Captain Sind

And, if not wise in mirth, at least must

be decorous.

II.

bad's map,

In the far eastern clime, no great Famed mariner! whose merciless narwhile since,

rations Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty | Drove every friend and kinsman out prince,

of patience, Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd Till, fain to find a guest who thought their round,

them shorter, Beheldallothers fix'd upon the ground; He deign'd to tell them over to a Whose ears received the sameunvaried

porter: phrase,

The last edition see, by Long. and Co., • Sultaun ! thy vassal hears, and he Rees, Hurst, and Orme, our fathers obeys !!

in the Row. All have their tastes this may the

fancy strike Of such grave folks as pomp and Serendib found, deem not my tale grandeur like;

a fiction

This Sultaun, whether lacking conThe hint of this tale is taken from La Camiscia

tradictionMagica, a novel of Giam Battista Casti.

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the rear;

VI.

(A sort of stimulant which hath its uses, More and yet more in deep array To raise the spirits and reform the

appear, juices,

And some the front assail, and some Sovereign specific for all sorts of cures In my wife's practice, and perhaps in Their remedies to reinforce and vary yours,)

Came surgeon eke, and ekeapothecary; The Sultaun lacking this same whole Till the tired Monarch, though of some bitter,

words grown chary, Or cordial smooth for prince's palate | Yet dropt, to recompense their fruitfitter

less labour, Or if some Mollah had hag-rid his Some hint about a bowstring or a sabre. dreams

There lack’d, I promise you, no longer With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild speeches themes

To rid the palace of those learned Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft,

leeches. I wot not- but the Sultaun never

laugh'd, Scarce ate or drank, and took a

Then was the council calld: by their melancholy

advice That scorn'd all remedy-profane or

(They deem'd the matter ticklish all, holy ;

and nice, In his long list of melancholies, mad,

And sought to shift it off from their Or mazed, or dumb, hath Burton none

own shoulders) so bad 1

Tartars and couriers in all speed were

sent

To call a sort of Eastern Parliament Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware,

Of feudatory chieftains and freeand tried,

holders : As e'er scrawl’d jargon in a darken'd

Such have the Persians at this very room ;

day, With heedful glance the Sultaun's My gallant Malcolm calls them coutongue they eyed,

roultai; Peep'd in his bath, and God knows I'm not prepared to show in this slight where beside,

song And then in solemn accent spoke That to Serendib the same forms their doom,

belong,‘His majesty is very far from well.' E'en let the learn'd go search, and tell Then each to work with his specific me if I'm wrong.

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fell :

VII.

The Hakim Ibrahim instanter brought
His unguent Mahazzim al Zerdukkaut, The Omrahs', each with hand on
While Roompot, a practitioner more scymitar,
wily,

Gave, like Sempronius, still their voice Relied on his Munaskif al fillfily”.

for war

I See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.'

2 For these hard words see D'Herbelot, or the learned editor of the Recipes of Avicenna.'

3 See Sir John Malcolm's admirable History of Persia.

4 Nobility,

a dole

IX.

• The sabre of the Sultaun in its sheath Others opined that through the realms Too long has slept, nor own'd the work of death;

Be made to holy men, whose prayers Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, might profit Bang the loud gong, and raise the The Sultaun's weal in body and in shout of battle!

soul. This dreary cloud that dims our sover But their long-headed chief, the eign's day

Sheik Ul-Sofit, Shall from his kindled bosom flit away, Moreclosely touch'd the point :—Thy When the bold Lootie wheels his

studious mood,' courser round,

Quoth he, “O Prince! hath thicken'd And the arm'd elephant shall shake all thy blood, the ground.

And dull'd thy brain with labour Each noble pants to own the glorious beyond measure; summons;

Wherefore relax a space and take thy And for the charges-lo! your faith

pleasure, ful Commons !'

And toy with beauty, or tell o'er thy The Riots who attended in their places

treasure; (Serendib language calls a farmer Froin all the cares of state, my Liege, Riot)

enlarge thee, Look'd ruefully in one another's faces, And leave the burden to thy faithful From this oration auguring much

clergy.' disquiet, Double assessment, forage, and free quarters;

These counsels sage availèd not a And, fearing these as Chinamen the

whit, Tartars,

And so the patient (as is not unOr as the whisker'd vermin fear the

common mousers,

Where grave physicians lose their Each fumbled in the pocket of his

time and wit) trousers.

Resolved to take advice of an old

woman; And next came forth the reverend His mother she, a dame who once Convocation,

was beauteous, Bald heads, white beards, and many And still was called so by each subject a turban green,

duteous. Imaum and Mollah there of every Now, whether Fatima was witch in station,

earnest, Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were Or only made believe, I cannot

say; Their votes were various: some ad But she profess'd to cure disease the rised a Mosque

sternest With fitting. revenues should be By dint of magic amulet or lay ; erected,

And, when all other skill in vain was With seemly gardens and with gay

shown, Kiosque,

She deem'd it fitting time to use her Torecreate a band ofpriests selected;

own.

VIII,

seen.

X.

Sympathia magica hath wonders

done' (Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son), " It works upon the fibres and the pores, And thus, insensibly, our health re

stores, And it must help us here. Thou must

endure The ill, my son, or travel for the cure. Search land and sea, and get, where'er

you can, The inmost vesture of a happy man,I mean his shirt, my son; which, taken

"Was call’d The Happy many ages

since For Mokha, Rais.' And they came

safely thither. But not in Araby, with all her balm, Not where Judea weeps beneath her

palm, Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian

waste, Could there the step of happiness be

traced. One Copt alone profess'd to have seen

her smile, When Bruce his goblet fill’d at infant

Nile : She bless'd the dauntless traveller as

he quaff'd, But vanish'd from him with the ended

draught.

warm

XII.

And fresh from off his back, shall chase

your harm, Bid every current of your veins rejoice, And your dull heart leap light as

shepherd-boy's.' Such was the counsel from his mother

came; I know notifshe had some under-game, As Doctors have, who bid their

patients roam And live abroad, when sure to die at

home; Or if she thought, that, somehow or

another, Queen-Regent sounded better than

Queen-Mother; But, says the Chronicle (who will, go

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look it),

That such was her advice. The Sultaun

took it.

Enough of turbans,' said the weary

King, · These dolimans of ours are not the

thing; Try we the Giaours, these men of

coat and cap, I Incline to think some of them must be

happy; At least, they have as fair a cause as

any can, They drink good wine and keep no

Ramazan. Then northward, ho!' The vessel

cuts the sea, And fair Italia lies upon her lee. But fair Italia, she who once unfurl'd Her eagle banners o'er a conquer'd

world, Long from her throne of doinination

tumbled, Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely

humbled ; The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale,

and lean, And was not half the man he once had

been.

XI.

All are on board - the Sultaun and his

train, In gilded galley prompt to plough the

main. The old Rais 1 was the first who

questioned, Whither?' They paused: * Arabia,' thought the

pensive Prince,

1 Master of the vessel.

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