Oh! search, ye chiefs! oh! search around: Allan, with these through Alva fly; Till Oscar, till my son is found, Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply." 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; 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. Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief "Oscar! my son!-thou God of Heav'n Restore the prop of sinking age! Or if that hope no more is given, "Yes, on some desert rocky shore My Oscar's whiten'd bones must lie; Then grant, thou God! I ask no more, With him his frantic sire may die! "Yet he may live,-away, despair! Be calm, my soul! he yet may live; Taraign my fate, my voice forbear! O God! my impious prayer forgive! • What, if he live for me no more, Thus did the hapless parent mourn, Till Time, who soothes severest woe Had bade serenity return, And made the tear-drop cease to flow. 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. 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. For youthful Allan still remain'd, She thought that Oscar low was laid, And Angus said, if one year more And he would name their nuptial day. Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last, 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. Again the clan, in festive crowd, But who is he, whose darken'd brow Glooms in the midst of general mirth? Before his eye's far fiercer glow The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth. Dark is the robe which wraps his form, 'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round, The bridegroom's health is deeply quaff'd; With shouts the vaulted roofs resound, And all combine to hail the draught. Sudden the stranger-chief arose,. And all the clamorous crowd are hush'd And Angus' cheek with wonder glows, And Mora's tender bosom blush'd. "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, The big tear starting as he spoke, "When Oscar left my hall, or died, This aged heart was almost broke. " "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." ""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. "Perchance, if those whom he most loved, "Fill high the bowl the table round, We will not claim the pledge by stealth; • Beltane Tree, a Highland festival on the first of May, held near t lighted for the occasion. With wine let every cup be crown'd; Pledge me departed Oscar's health." "With all my soul," old Angus said, And fill'd his goblet to the brim ; "Here's to my boy! alive or dead, I ne'er shall find a son like him." "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." The crimson glow of Allan's face Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue; The drops of death each other chase Adown in agonizing dew. 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. "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?" 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. ""Tis he! I hear my murderer's voice!" Loud shrieks a darkly gleaming form; "A murderer's voice!" the roof replies, And deeply swells the bursting storm. The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink, The stranger's gone,-amidst the crew A form was seen in tartan green, And tall the shade terrific grew. His waist was bound with a broad belt round, But his breast was bare, with the red wounds there, And thrice he smiled, with his eye so wild, And thrice he frown'd on a chief on the ground, The bolts loud roll, from pole to nole, The thunders through the welkin ring, And the gleaming form, through the mist of the storm Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing. Cold was the feast, the revel ceased: "Away, away! let the leech essay To pour the light on Allan's eyes;" His sand is done,-his race is run; Oh! never more shall Allan rise! • Old Angus press'd the earth with his breast. First Edition. In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found the. following lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from Hasrat They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high rank, who had been my frequent companion in some rambles through the neighboring country; however, he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, on re-perusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in the collection, have now published them, for the first time, after a slight revision. DORSET! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, Though the harsh custom of our youthful band 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, As first in rank, the first in talent too: At every public 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 certain period they Command in turn those who succeed. Turn to the annals of a former day, 429 Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires display. The hours draw nigh, a few brief days will close, Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue, To veil those feelings which perchance it ought, ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL WHEN DYING. ANIMULA! vagula, blandula, • Thomas Sackville, Lord Backhurst, 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 Poets. ↑ Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, esteemed the most accomplised man of his day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with great gallantry in the sea ↑ Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant; I fight with the Dutch in 1665, on the day previous to which he composed his merely mention generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors. See the same line in Lara, stanza 11. celebrated song. His character has been drawn in the highest colors by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve.-Anderson's British Poets. TRANSLATION. AH! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, Friend and associate of this clay ! To what unknown region borne, Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? No more with wonted humor gay, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. EQUAL to Jove that youth must be- I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS. BY DOMITIUS MARSUS. He who sublime in epic numbers roll'd, And he who struck the softer lyre of love, By Death's unequal hand alike controll'd, Fit comrades in Elysian regions move! YE Cupids, droop each little head, Tuned to her ear his grateful strain. Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain. Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave! Whose jaws eternal victims crave, From whom no earthly power can save For thou hast ta'en the bird away: From thee my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow, Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow; Thou art the cause of all her wo, Receptacle of life's decay. IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ELLEN. OH! might I kiss those eyes of fire, • The band of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as Virgil was con- Would awe his fix'd determined mind in vain. siderably older than Tibullus at his decease. • From the private volurse. • Only printed in the private volume. |