She thought that Oscar low was laid, Had claim'd his faithless bosom's care. And Angus said, if one year more Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note! Again the clan, in festive crowd, But who is he, whose darken'd brow The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth. Dark is the robe which wraps his form, 'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round, 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 : Now will I claim a pledge from thee. "While all around is mirth and joy, "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. "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, "Perchance, if those whom most he loved "Fill high the bowl the table round, "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; The crimson glow of Allan's face Thrice did he raise the goblet high, "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, 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, 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 pole, And thunders through the welkin ring, And the gleaming form, through the mist of the stor Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing. Cold was the feast, the revel ceased. "Away, away! let the leech essay But Oscar's breast is cold as clay, With him in dark Glentanar's vale. And whence the dreadful stranger came, Ambition nerved young Allan's hand, Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow; Whose streaming life-blood stains his side? Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, The dart has drunk his vital tide. And Mora's eye could Allan move, Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb 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. What minstrel gray, what hoary bard, But who can strike a murderer's praise Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp must stand, No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse, A brother's death-groan echoes there. THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND EURYALUS, A PARAPHRASE FROM THE ENEID, LIB. IX. NISUS, the guardian of the portal, stood, No lovelier mien adorn'd the ranks of Troy, "Twas his, with beauty, valour's gifts to share- These burn with one pure flame of generous love; In peace, in war, united still they move; Friendship and glory form their joint reward; And now combined they hold their nightly guard. "What god," exclaim'd the first, "instils this fire? Or, in itself a god, what great desire? |