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Fled panting away, over river and isle,
The fox fled in terror ; the eagle awoke
Young Malcolm beheld the pale lady approach, The chieftain salute her, and shrink from her touch. He saw the Macgregor kneel down on the plain, As begging for something he could not obtain ; She raised him indignant, derided his stay, Then bore him on board, set her sail, and away.
Though fast the red bark down the river did glide, Yet faster ran Malcolm adown by its side ; “Macgregor ! Macgregor !” he bitterly cried ; Macgregor ! Macgregor !" the echoes replied. He struck at the lady, but, strange though it seem, His sword only fell on the rocks and the stream; But the groans from the boat, that ascended amain, Were groans from a bosom in horror and pain. They reached the dark lake, and bore lightly away“ Macgregor is vanished for ever and aye !
THE ISLES OF GREECE.
THE isles of Greece, the isles of Greece !
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where Delos rose, and Phæbus sprung !
The Scian' and the Teiano muse,
The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Their place of birth alone is mute
The mountains look on Marathon
And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sate on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ;
And men in nations ;-all were his !
And where are they ? and where art thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now
The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine ?
'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
2 Anacreon. 3 These were supposed to have been the Cape de Verd Islands, or the Canaries.
Must we but weep o'er days more blest ?
Must we but blush ?-Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead !
What! silent still ? and silent all ?
Ah! no;—the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, ‘Let one living head, But one arise,—we come, we come!' 'Tis but the living who are dumb.
In vain-in vain ; strike other chords ;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! Hark! rising to the ignoble callHow answers each bold Bacchanal!
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one ? You have the letters Cadmus gaveThink ye he meant them for a slave ?
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
We will not think of themes like these ! It made Anacreon's song divine :
He served—but served Polycrates-
The tyrant of the Chersonese
Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; That tyrant was Miltiades !
Oh! that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind ! Such chains as his were sure to bind.
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, Exists the remnant of a line
Such as the Doric mothers bore; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown, The Heracleidan blood might own.
Trust not for freedom to the Franks
They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad.
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
Our virgins dance beneath the shade I see their glorious black eyes shine ;
But gazing on each glowing maid, My own the burning tear-drop laves, To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die : A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Among those awful forms, in elder time
Two of his sons, Giovanni and Garzia, (The eldest had not seen his nineteenth summer,) Went to the chase ; but only one returned. Giovanni, when the huntsman blew his horn O'er the last stag that started from the brake, And in the heather turned to stand at bay, Appeared not, and at close of day was found Bathed in his innocent blood. Too well, alas, The trembling Cosmo guessed the deed, the doer; And, having caused the body to be borne
| Cosmo, the first Grand Duke.
2 De Thou.