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and dangerous expedition. The minstrel was im- the head of an army superior to his own. The pressed with a belief, which the event verified, words of the set theme, or melody, to which the that he was to be slain in the approaching feud; pipe variations are applied, run thus in Gaelic: and hence the Gaelic words, " Cha till mi tuille; Piobaireachd Dhonuil, piobaireachd Dhonuil; ged thillis Macleod, cha till Macrimmon,” “I shall Piobaireachd Dhonuil Duidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; never return; although Macleod returns, yet Mack-Piobaireachd Dhonuil Duidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; rimmon shall never return!" The piece is but too Piob agus bratach air faiche Inverlochi. well known, from its being the strain with which The pipe summons of Donald the Black, the emigrants from the west highlands and isles The pipe summons of Donald the Black, usually take leave of their native shore.
The war-pipe and the pennon are on the gathering-place at Inverlochy.
Lone on the outskirts of the host,
Where held the cloak'd patrol their course,
But there are sounds in Allan's ear
When down the destined plain
Such forms were seen, such sounds were
FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.
Where the forester, lated, with wonder espied me
The language alternate of rapture and wo:
The pang that I feel at our parting can know. Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow,
Or pale disappointment, to darken my way,
Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day!
The languor of pain, and the chillness of age.
To sing how a warrior lay stretch'd on the plain,
To a bard when the reign of his fancy is o'er,
The grief, queen of numbers, thou canst not as- No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before him,
Unhonour'd the pilgrim from life should depart?
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? And, O! was it meet that, no requiem read o'er
But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,
To lay down thy head like the meek mountain
Hardships and danger despising for fame,
When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in Furnishing story for glory's bright annal,
Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame!
And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying,
Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel,
If love could change notes like the bird on the
Now I'll ne'er ask if thine eyes may hae wander'd, Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me.
Enough, now thy story in annals of glory,
Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and Spain;
No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou
I never will part with my Willie again.
WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,
On the mountain dawns the day,
With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear;
Waken, lords and ladies gay,
The mist has left the mountain gray,
Waken, lords and ladies gay,
Louder, louder chant the lay,
THE BARD'S INCANTATION.
WRITTEN UNDER THE THREAT OF INVASION, IN THE AUTUMN OF 1804.
THE forest of Glenmore is drear,
It is all of black pine and the dark oak tree; And the midnight wind to the mountain deer Is whistling the forest lullaby: