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Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war ;
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ;*
As daily I strode through the pine-cover d glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ?”
And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale.
Winter presides in his cold icy car :
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?”
Victory crown'd not your fall with applause :
You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar ;S
Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.
Years must elapse ere I tread you again ;
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
To one who has roved o'er the mountains afar!
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr.
Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Thy votive train of girls and boys ; . This word is erroneously pronounced plad: the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography.
+ I allude here to my maternal ancestors," the Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Stuarts. George, the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James the First of Scotland. By her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors.
# Whether any perished in the battle of Culloden, I am not certain ; but, as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, " pars pro toto."
§ A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar.
At length, in spells no longer bound,
I break the fetters of my youth;
But leave thy realms for those of Truth.
Which haunt the unsuspicious soul,
Whose eyes through rays immortal roll;
And all assume a varied hue;
And even woman's smiles are true.
And from thy hall of clouds descend ?
A Pylades* in every friend ?
To mingling bands of fairy elves;
And friends have feeling for-themselves !
Repentant, now thy reign is o'er:
No more on fancied pinions soar.
And think that eye to truth was dear ;
And melt beneath a wanton's tear!
Far from thy motley court I fly,
And sickly Sensibility ;
For any pangs excepting thine;
To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.
With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds,
Whose breast for every bosom bleeds ;
To mourn a swain for ever gone,
But bends not now before thy throne.
On all occasions swiftly flow;
With fancied flames and phrensy glow; . It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the companion of Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships which, with those of Achilles and Patroclus, Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and Pythias, have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments, which in all probability never existed beyond the imagination of the poet, or the page of an historian, or modern novelist.
Say, will you mourn my absent name,
Apostate from your gentle train ?
From you a sympathetic strain.
The hour of fate is hovering nigh;
Where unlamented you must lie :
Convulsed by gales you cannot weather;
Alas! must perish altogether.
ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES, SENT BY A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, COMPLAINING THAT ONE OF
HIS DESCRIPTIONS WAS RATHER TOO WARMLY DRAWN.
“ But if any old lady, knight, priest, or physician,
May I venture to give her a smack of my muse ?"--New Bath Guide.
Oh ! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song,
She whom a conscious grace shall thus refine,
November 26th, 1806.
ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.*
It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."
OSSIAN NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once resplendent dome !
Religion's shrine ! repentant Henry's pride ! +
Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide.
Than modern mansions in their pillar'd state; Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,
Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate. No mail-clad serfs, I obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand ;8 Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band : Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye
Retrace their progress through the lapse of time,
A votive pilgrim in Judea's clime.
His feudal realm in other regions lay ;
Retiring from the garish blaze of day.
The monk abjured a world he ne'er could view;
Or innocence from stern oppression flew.
* As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting this piece. It is now added at the particular request of some triends.
Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder or Thomas à Becket.
This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, " The Wild Huntsman;" synony. mous with vassal. $ The red cross was the badge of the crusaders.
A monarch bade thee from that wild arise,
Where Sherwood's outlaws once were wont to prowl;
Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl,
The humid pall of life-extinguish'd clay,
Nor raised their pious voices but to pray.
Soon as the gloaming* spreads her waning shade,
mingling vespers blend,
Abbots to abbots, in a line, succeed ;
Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed.
And bade the pious inmates rest in peace;
And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease.
He drives them exiles from their blest abode,
No friend, no home, no refuge but their God.
Shakes with the martial music's novel din !
High-crested banners wave thy walls within.
The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms,
Unite in concert with increased alarms.
Encircled by insulting rebel powers,
And dart destruction in sulphureous showers.
Though oft repulsed, by guile o'ercomes the brave;
Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave.
The blood of traitors smears the purple plain ;
And days of glory yet for him remain.
• As “gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have veutured to use it on account of its harmony.
The priory was dedicated to the Virgin,
At the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry VIII, bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron.