And, lost my precepts be displeasing 10. Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth, They feast upon the mountain deer, And they who heard the war-notes wild, While he should lead the tartan train, 13. Another year is quickly past, And Angus hails another son; His natal day is like the last, Nor soon the jocund feast was done. 14. Taught by their sire to bend the bow, But ere their years of youth are o'er, Dark was the flow of Oscar's hair, Wildly it stream'd along the gale ; But Oscar own'd a hero's soul, His dark eye shone through beams of truth; Allan had early learn'd control, And smooth his words had been from youth. 18. Both, both were brave; the Saxon spear Was shiver'd oft beneath their steel; 20. From high Southannon's distant tower Arrived a young and noble dame; With Kenneth's lands to form her dower, Glenalvon's blue-eyed daughter came; 21. And Oscar claim'd the beauteous bride, 22. Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note! Hark to the swelling nuptial song! In joyous strains the voices float, And still the choral peal prolong. 23. See how the heroes' blood-red plumes Assembled wave in Alva's hall Each youth his varied plaid assumos, Attending on their chieftain's call. 24. It is not war their aid demands, The pibroch plays the song of peace; To Oscar's nuptials throng the bands, Nor yet the sounds of pleasure cease. 25. But where is Oscar? sure 'tis late : 26. At length young Allan join'd the bride: "Why comes not Oscar ?" Angus said; "Is not he here?" the youth replied; "With me he roved not o'er the glade. 27. "Perchance, forgetful of the day, 'Tis his to chase the bounding roe; Or ocean's waves prolong his stay; Yet Oscar's bark is seldom slow." 28. "Oh, no!" the anguish'd sire rejoin'd, "Nor chase, nor wave, my boy delay; Would he to Mora seem unkind? Would aught to her impede his way? 29 "Oh! search, ye chiefs! oh! search around! Allan, with these through Alva fly; Till Oscar, till my son is found, 30. All is confusion-through the vale The name of Oscar hoarsely rings, It rises on the murm'ring gale, Till night expands her dusky wings; 31. It breaks the stillness of the night, But echoes through her shades in vain : It sounds through morning's misty light, But Oscar comes not o'er the plain. 32. Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief "Oscar! my son!-thou God of Heav'n "Yes, on some desert rocky shore "Yet he may live,-away, despair! Be calm, my soul! he yet may live; T'arraign my fate, my voice forbear! O God! my impious prayer forgive! 36. "What, if he live for me no more, 37. Thus did the hapless parent mourn, Till Time, who soothes severest woe Had bade serenity return, And made the tear-drop cease to flow. 58. For still some latent hope survived That Oscar might once more appear; His hope now droop'd and now revived, Till Time had told a tedious year. 39 Days roll'd along, the orb of light Again had run his destined race; No Oscar bless'd his father's sight, And sorrow left a fainter trace. 40. For youthful Allan still remain'd, She thought that Oscar low was laid, Had claim'd his faithless bosom’« rare And Angus said, if one year more And he would name their nuptial day. Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last Arrived the dearly destined morn; The year of anxious trembling past, What smiles the lover's cheeks adorn! Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note! 45. Again the clan, in festive crowd, 46. But who is he, whose darken'd brow Glooms in the midst of general mirth? Before his eyes far fiercer glow The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth. 47. Dark is the robe which wraps his form, And tall his plume of gory red; His voice is like the rising storm, But light and trackless is his tread. 48. 'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round, 49. Sudden the stranger-chief arose, And all the clamorous crowd are hush'd; And Angus' cheek with. wor.der glows, And Mora's tender bosom blush'd. 50. "Old man!" he cried, "this pledge is done: Thou saw'st 'twas duly drank by me; It hail'd the nuptials of thy son: "While all around is mirth and joy, 52. "Alas!" the hapless sire replied, The big tear starting as he spoke, "When Oscar left my hall, or died, This aged heart was almost broke. 53. "Thrice has the earth revolved her course Since Oscar's form has bless'd my sight; And Allan is my last resource, Since martial Oscar's death or flight." 54. " 'Tis well," replied the stranger stern, And fiercely flash'd his rolling eye; "Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn ; Perhaps the hero did not die. 55. "Perchance, if those whom he most loved, Would call, thy Oscar might return; Perchance the chief has only roved; For him thy Beltane* yet may burn. 56. "Fill high the bowl the table round, We will not claim the pledge by stealth, With wine let every cup be crown'd; Pledge me departed Oscar's health." 57. "With all my soul," old Angus said, I ne'er shall find a son like him." 58. "Bravely, old man, this health has sped; But why does Allan trembling stand? Come, drink remembrance of the dead, And raise thy cup with firmer hand." 59. The crimson glow of Allan's face Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue; Thrice did he raise the goblet high, And thrice his lips refused to taste; For thrice he caught the stranger's eye On his with deadly fury placed. 61. "And is it thus a brother hails A brother's fond remembrance here? If thus affection's strength prevails, What might we not expect from fear?" 62. Roused by the sneer, he raised the bowl, "Would Oscar now could share our mirth!" Internal fear appall'd his soul; He said, and dash'd the cup to earth. 63. "Tis he! I hear my murderer's voice!" Loud shreaks a darkly gleaming form; "A murderer's voice!" the roof replies, And deeply swells the bursting storm. 64. The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink, A form was seen in tartan green, • Beltane Tree, a Highland festival on the first of May, held near fires Mighted for the xcasion. 65. His waist was bound with a broad belt round, And thrice he smiled, with his eye so wild, The bolts loud roll, from pole to pole, The thunders through the welkin ring, Cold was the feast, the revel ceased. "Away, away! let the leech essay To pour the light on Allan's eyes:" 70. With him in dark Glentanar's vale. 71. And whence the dreadful stranger came, Ambition nerved young Allan's hand, Swift is the shaft of Allan's bow: Whose streaming life-blood stains his side? Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, The dart has drunk his vital tide. 74. And Mora's eye could Allan move, She bade his wounded pride rebel: Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb Which rises o'er a warrior dead? Far, distant far, the noble grave Which held his clan's great ashes stood; And o'er his corse no banners wave, For they were stain'd with kindred blood. 77. What minstrel gray, what hoary bard, His harp in shuddering chords would break. Old Angus press'd the earth with his breast-Fret Edition. 79. No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse, Snail sound his glories high in air. A dying father's bitter curse, A brother's death groan echoes there. TO THE DUKE OF DORSET. In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found the following lines, which I had totally forgot. ten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from Hazron. They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high rank, who had been my frequent companion in some rambles through the neighbouring country however, he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, on a re perusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now published them, for the first time, after a slight revision. Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, When youthful parasites, who bend the knee Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, 'Tis not enough, with other sons of power, At every puoll: school the Junior boys are completely subservient to the upper forms till they attain a seat in the higher classes. From this state of probation, very properly, no rank is exempt; but after a tertain period they command in turn those who succeed. t Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant; merely mention generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors. The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the herald's roll, The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close, Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue, To veil those feelings which perchance it ought, See the same line in Lara, stanza 11. "Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, created Earl of Dorset, by James the first, was one of the earliest and brightest ornaments to the poetry of his country, and the first who produced a regular drama."Anderson's British Poeta. Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, esteemed the most asscn.plishe! man of his day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles 11, and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with great gallantry in the sea fight with the Dutch in 1665, on the day previous to which he composed his celebrated song. His character has been drawn in the highest colours by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve.— Anderson's British Poets. TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. EQUAL to Jove that youth must be- I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS, "LUCTUS DE MORTE PASSERIS," YE Cupids, droop each little head, 2. And softly fluttering here and there, Tuned to her ear his grateful strain. Now having pass'd the gloomy bourne From whence he never can return, His death and Lesbia's grief I mourn, Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain. 3. Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave! Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow; Thou art the cause of all her wo Receptacle of life's decay. |