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LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN.
And lighten'd up a tapestried wall,
Pay the deep debt" - O say not so! And for her use a menial train
To me no gratitude you owe. A rich collation spread in vain.
Not mine, alas! the boon to give, The banquet proud, the chamber gay,
And bid thy noble father live; Scarce drew one curious glance' astray;
I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say,
With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. With better omen dawn'd the day
No tyrant he, though ire and pride In that lone isle, where waved on high
May lead his better mood aside. The dun deer's hide for canopy;
Come, Ellen, come !-'tis more than time, Where oft her noble father shared
He holds his court at morning prime.”The simple meal her care prepared,
With beating heart, and bosom wrung, While Lufra, crouching by her side,
As to a brother's arm she clung. Her station claim'd with jealous pride,
Gently he dried the falling tear, And Douglas, bent on woodland game,
And gently whisper'd hope and cheer; Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Græme,
Her faultering steps half led, half staid, Whose answer, oft at random made,
Through gallery fair and high arcade, The wandering of his thoughts betray'd.
Till, at bis touch, its wings of pride
A portal arch unfolded wide.
Within 'twas brilliant all and light,
A thronging scene of figures bright; What distant music has the power
It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, To win her in this woeful hour!
As when the setting sun has given 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung
Ten thousand hues to summer even,
And, from their tissue, fancy frames
Still by Fitz-James her footing staid; “ My hawk is tired of perch and hood,
A few faint steps she forward made, My idle greyhound loathes his food,
Then slow her drooping head she raised, My horse is weary of his stall,
And fearful round the presence gazed ; And I am sick of captive thrall.
For him she sought, who own'd this state, I wish I were as I have been,
The dreaded prince whose will was fate! Hunting the hart in forest green,
She gazed on many a princely port, With bended bow and blood-hound free,
Might well have ruled a royal court; For that's the life is meet for me.
On many a splendid garb she gazed,
Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, “I hate to learn the ebb of time,
For all stood bare; and, in the room, From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,
Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,
To him each lady's look was lent; Inch after inch, along the wall.
On him each courtier's eye was bent; The lark was wont my matins ring,
Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, The sable rook my vespers sing ;
He stood, in simple Lincoln green, These towers, although a king's they be,
The centre of the glittering ring,Have not a hall of joy for me.
And Snowdoun's knight is Scotland's king! “ No more at dawning morn I rise,
As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Drive the feet deer the forest through,
Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And homeward wend with evening dew;
And at the monarch's feet she lay; A blithesome welcome blithely meet,
No word her choaking voice commands, And lay my trophies at her feet,
She show'd the ring—she clasp'd her hands. While Aed the eve on wing of glee,
0! not a moment could he brook, That life is lost to love and me!".
The generous prince, that suppliant look! The heart-sick lay was hardly said,
Gently he raised her,-and, the while, The list’ner had not turn'd her head,
Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; It trickled still, the starting tear,
Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd,
And bade her terrors be dismiss'd:
“ Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James She turn’d the hastier, lest again
The fealty of Scotland claims,
To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; The prisoner should renew his strain.
He will redeem his signet ring. “ O welcome, brave Fitz-James !” she said;
Ask nought for Douglas;---yester even, “ How may an almost orphan maid
Let all my murmurs here be staid!
The ! And, Find
And Hasi True Nor
His prince and he have much forgiven:
My fairest earldom would I give
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!
Hast thou no other boon to crave? We would not to the vulgar crowd
No other captive friend to save?"Yield what they craved with clamour loud ; Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, Calmly we heard and judged his cause,
And to the Douglas gave the ring, Our council aided, and our laws.
As if she wish'd her sire to speak I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern,
The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek.With stout De Vaux and grey Glencairn;
“ Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own
And stubborn justice holds her course. The friend and bulwark of our throne.
Malcolm, come forth!"-And, at the word, But, lovely infidel, how now?
Down kneel'd the Græme to Scotland's lord. What clouds thy misbelieving brow?
For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid;
From thee may vengeance claim her dues, Thou must confirm this doubting maid."
Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, Then forth the noble Douglas sprung,
And sought, amid thy faithful clan, And on his neck his daughter hung.
A refuge for an outlaw'd man, The monarch drank, that happy hour,
Dishonouring thus thy loyal name.The sweetest, holiest draught of power,-
Fetters and warder for the Græme! When it can say with godlike voice,
His chain of gold the King unstrung, Arise, sad virtue, and rejoice!
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Yet would not James the general eye
Then gently drew the glittering band,
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.
Harp of the north, farewell! the hills grow dark,
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; That brought this happy chance to speed.
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray
The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. In life's more low but happier way,
Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, 'Tis under name which veils my power,
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; Nor falsely veils—for Stirling's tower
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending,
With distant echo from the fold and lea, (bee.
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing
Yet, once again, farewell, thou minstrel barp! Thus learn to right the injured cause."
Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, Then, in a tone apart and low,
And little reck I of the censure sharp - Ah, little trait'ress! none must know
May idly cavil at an idle lay. What idle dream, what lighter thought,
Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, What vanity full dearly bought,
Through secret woes the world has never known, Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day, My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,
And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone.
That lo'er live such woes, Enchantress! is thineowu.
Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,
Some spirit of the air has waked thy string! 'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,
'Tis now the brush of fairy's frolic wing.
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell-
Full well the conscious maiden guess'd,
And Rokeby's maiden will not part
E" From Rokeby's hall with moody heart.
But when you hear the passing bell, This night at least, for Rokeby's fame
Then, Lady, twine a wreath for me, er. The hospitable hearth shall flame,
And twine it of the cypress tree. e And, ere its native heir retire, po Find for the wanderer rest and fire,
Yes! twine for me thc cypress bough; 5. While this poor harper, by the blaze,
But, O Matilda, twine not now! e. Recounts the tale of other days.
Stay till a few brief months are past, Bid Harpool ope the door with speed,
And I have look'd and loved my last! Admit him, and relieve each need.
When villagers my shroud bestrew trn Meantime, kind Wycliffe, wilt thou try
With pansies, rosemary, and rue,Thy minstrel skill!-nay, no reply
Then, Lady, weave a wreath for me,
And weave it of the cypress tree.
Waken, lords and ladies gay,
On the mountain dawns the day, But sure, no rigid jailor, thou
All the jolly chace is here, Wilt a short prison-walk allow,
With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear; Where summer flowers grow wild at will,
Hounds are in their couples yelling, On Marwood-chace and Toller-hill;
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Then holly green and lily gay
Merrily, merrily, mingle they, Shall twine in guerdon of thy lay.”
“ Waken, lords and ladies gay." biz
The mournful youth, a space aside,
Waken, lords and ladies gay,
The mist has left the mountain gray, As prelude to the lay he sung.
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming ; bott
And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green ;
Now we come to chaunt our lay, Or twine it of the cypress tree!
“ Waken, lords and ladies gay." Too lively glow the lilies light, The varnish'd holly's all too bright,
Waken, lords and ladies gay, The May-flower and the eglantine
To the green-wood haste away; May shade a brow less sad than mine:
We can shew you where he lies, But, Lady, weave no wreath for me,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size; Or weave it of the cypress tree!
We can shew the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; Let dimpled mirth his temples twine
You shall see him brought to bay, With tendrils of the laughing vine;
“ Waken, lords and ladies gay." The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due;
Louder, louder chaunt the lay, The myrtle bough bids lovers live,
Waken, lords and ladies gay! But that Matilda will not give;
Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, Then, Lady, twine no wreath for me,
Run a course as well as we. Or twine it of the cypress tree!
Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,
Staunch as hound, and fleet as hawk? merry England proudly rear
Think of this, and rise with day,
Gentle lords and ladies gay.
The violet in her green-wood bower, But, Lady, twine no wreath for me,
Where birchen boughs with hazles mingle, Ortwine it of the cypress tree !
May boast itself the fairest flower Strike the wild harp, while maids prepare
In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. The ivy meet for minstrel's hair;
Though fair her gems of azure hue, And, while his crown of laurel-leaves
Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining, With bloody hand the victor weaves,
I've seen an eye of lovelier blue, Let the loud trump his triumph tell;
More speet through wat'ry lustre shining.
WITH FLOWERS FROM A ROMAN WALL.
The summer sun that dew shall dry,
The owl and the raven are mute for dread,
And the time is meet to awake the dead!
“ Souls of the mighty, wake and say,
To what high strain your harps were strung,
When Lochlin plough'd her billowy way,
And on your shores her Norsemen flung ?
Her Norsemen train d to spoil and blood, Take these flowers, which, purple waving,
Skilld to prepare the raven's food, On the ruin'd rampart grew,
All by your harpings doora'd to die Where, the sons of freedom braving,
On bloody Largs and Loncarty. Rome's imperial standards flew.
“ Mute are ye all? No inurmurs strange Warriors from the breach of danger
Upon the midnight breeze sail by; Pluck no longer laurels there:
Nor through the pines with whistling change They but yield the passing stranger
Mimic the harp's wild harmony!
Mute are ye now?-Ye ne'er were mute,
And Rapine with his iron hand,
Were hovering near yon mountain strand.
“ O yet awake the strain to tell, THE AUTUMN OF 1804.
By every deed io song enroll'd,
By every chief who fought or fell
Through the deep ranks of Roman war,
To him, of veteran memory dear,
Who victor died on Aboukir.
By all their swords, by all their scars,
By all their names, a mighty spell! There is a voice among the trees
By all their wounds, by all their wars, That mingles with the groaning oak
Arise, the mighty strain to tell! That mingles with the stormy breeze,
For fiercer than fierce Hengist's strain, And the lake-waves dashing against the rock ; More impious than the heathen Dane, There is a voice within the wood,
More grasping than all-grasping Rome,
Gaul's ravening legions hither come!"
The wind is hush'd, and still the lake
Strange murmurs fill my tingling ears, “ Wake ye from your sleep of death,
Bristles my hair, my sinews quake, Minstrels and Bards of other days!
At the dread voice of other yearsFor the midnight wind is on the heath,
“ When targets clash'd, and bugles rung, And the midnight meteors dimly blaze!
And blades round warriors' heads were flung, The spectre with his bloody hand
The foremost of the band were we, Is wandering through the wild woodland;
And hymn’d the joys of liberty!"
A month or more hath she been dead,
And her together.
That Aush'd her spirit.
She did inherit.
Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool, But she was train'd in Nature's school,
Nature had blest her.
A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. May the Babylonish curse Strait confound my stammering verse, If I can a passage see In this word-perplexity, Or a fit expression find, Or a language to my mind, (Still the phrase is wide or scant) To take leave of thee, great plant! Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half my hate : For I hate, yet love, thee so, That, whichever thing I shew, The plain truth will seem to be A constrain'd hyperbole, And the passion to proceed More for a mistress than a weed.
Sooty retainer to the vine, Bacchus' black servant, negro fine; Sorcerer, that mak’st us dote upon Thy begrimed complexion, And, for thy pernicious sake, More and greater oaths to break Than reclaimed lovers take 'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay Much too in the female way, While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath Faster than kisses or than death.
THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a love once, fairest among women! Cosed are her doors on me, I must not see herAll, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly; Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Thou in such a cloud dost bind us,
Thou through such a mist dost shew us,