And under each white robe a youth was conceal'd,
Who met his opponent with sword and with shield.
Turgesius was slain--and the maidens were blest,
Melachlin's fair daughter more blithe than the rest;
And ere the last sunbeam had crimson'd the sea,
They hailed the boy-victors--and Erin was free!
GLENARA.
BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.
O, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad on the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?
'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear,
And her sire and her people are called to the bier.
Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud:
Her kinsmen they followed, but mourned not aloud:
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;
They marched all in silence--they looked to the ground.
In silence they reached over mountains and moor,
To a heath where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar:
"Now here let us place the grey stone of her cairn:
Why speak ye no word?" said Glenara the stern.
"And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse,
Why fold ye your mantles? why cloud ye your brows?"
So spake the rude chieftain; no answer is made,
But each mantle unfolding, a dagger displayed!
"I dreamed of my lady, I dreamed of her shroud,"
Cried a voice from the kinsmen all wrathful and loud;
"And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem:
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"
Oh, pale grew the cheek of the chieftain, I ween,
When the shroud was unclosed, and no body was seen!
Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn--
'Twas the youth that had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:
"I dreamed of my lady, I dreamed of her grief,
I dreamed that her lord was a barbarous chief;
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem:--
Glenara! Glenara! now read me MY dream!"
In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,
And the desert revealed where his lady was found;
From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne;
Now joy to the house of the fair Ellen of Lorn!
A FABLE FOR MUSICIANS.
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