The early poems of John Clare :: :: University of Virginia Library

Wild winds no longer rustle in the wood
The hasty rains cease bubbling on the flood
Like the noon day as silent & as calm
While scenes refresh'd present a sweeter charm
Each pearly drop Flowers burthen'd sweets renew
The clouds divide—the sky is cloth'd in blue
Oer the green hills the slopeing sun declines
Dash'd in the soil the hasty shower combines
The muddy streams flow rapid ting'd with red
& guggles furious oer their stony bed
& still ye murmur sweet—increasing streams
Tho not so sweet as yon far music seems—
Alpin the bard—his wild-strung-harp complains
While listening hills vibrate the mournful strains
The big tear starting reddens in his eye
Each wrinkl'd cheek swells smooth in many a sigh
By age deform'd—he bows his hoary head
& bent in mournful posture—wails the dead—
Now muses fire his dim eye rolls around
By fits—then sad—then strikes a solemn sound
Alpin thou aged bard what woes betide?
Son of sweet song thy wild harps native pride
What mournful cause can here thy woes regard
On these lone hills by echo only heard
As howls the tempest in regardless woods
As (wak'd in vain) waves fold the unfeeling floods

236

Alpin

My tears o Ryno are severe
They fall for him that slumbers here
My tears my song ah vainly gave
Mourns the still tenant of the grave
Tho tall thou art tho power is thine
As towering grows the mountain pine
Tho hills thy skill & strength declares
When chace is led or fight prepares
Tho beauty thine & strength & power
Of all the vallies flowers the flower
Sons of the plain the fairest pride
As flowers bedeck the streamlets side
Where health infusd on breezes team
& dips refreshing in the stream
But thou shalt fall! by fates decree
Morar is what thou shalt be
As on this grave I now recline
So mourning bards shall wail on thine
The day comes on—thy bow unstrung
Shall usless in the hall be hung
Then cease the hills thy voice to hear
Thy voice no more the hills shall cheer
Then even all—unknown unseen
Forgets that Ryno ere has been!

Soldiers grave

As swift as the roe leads the chase oer the mountains
Thy speed to the fight was O mighty Morar
Thy weapons glancd swift as the lightning—in battle
& horrid as meteors did shoot on the war
Thy wrath who could stand! like the wirl-windy tempest
Thy voice feard as thunder dread rumbling afar
What hundred & thousands o countless the numbers
That fell in the wrath of the mighty morar

237

But when welcome peace had compleated thy wishes
& Victorys crown haild thy toils from the war
As calm as the water curls over wi' breezes
Subsided the wrath of once dreadful Morar
After Rain as the Sun thro the water clouds gleaming
Thy face as serene—lost its frown in the war
As the moon in nights silence its horrid gloom chearing
Thy smiles cheerd thy foes—O victorious morar

Alas what avails it—the boast of the heroe
The pride of the victor—the honours of war
When victory triumphant has led from the conquest
What honours where thine thou brave fallen morar
The world once too bounded to tell of thy glory
When its shouts hail the heroe return'd from the war
Now silent has left the[e]—while I in three paces
Suround all thy glory! Once mighty morar

Vain vain are the shadows of greatness & Glory
& vain all their honours tho gaind in the war
Since perishd the victor his deeds all forgotten
Since low unrewarded lies fallen Morar
A leafless tree mourns the subduer of armies
& four mossy stones the reward—from the war
(Grass the while the winds wistling)—ah these & these only
Point out to the hunter the Grave of Morar

Brave shade ill requited thy low declin'd valour
& few be that mourns the sad tidings of war
All comfort was vain when thy mother recievd them
She languishd lamenting the fallen Morar
& Morglans fair daughter—O dearly bought conquest
How harden'd & cruel the bosom of war
Sick droop'd the fair lilly that lov'd thee sincerely
Broken hearted she dy'd for her wounded Morar

238

What tottering form approaches here?
Whose slow step tells his exit near
What bow bent sage my woe attends?
& oer his staff in sorrow bends
What shade whose locks are wooll'd in years
& eyes grown red wi briny tears
Lists to my sorrows mournfull strain
& weeps & looks & weeps again

O valiant heroe brave Morar
Thy father heard the noise of war
Of foes dispers'd of prisners ta'en
He heard alas but h[e]ard in vain
Thy valiant deeds the world proclaimd
He heard thy boastful conquest nam'd
But short the joy—thy fate remaind
Which lingering victorys pride detaind
Ah victorys battle dearly won
Here mourns the sire his fallen son
Morar thy fall thy deadly wound
His dampt soul sinketh to the ground

Ah weep away thy latest years
His worth well claims a parents tears
But deep in earth is laid his head
Sound, sound the slumbers of the dead
A parents cares the sons forgot
Thou weeps for him that heeds thee not
O when shall that morns mystery shine
That bids the grave its prey resign
All, all those mighty sons of war
& wake again the brave Morar

Adieu thou brave heroe—no more shall thou conquer
Nor foes to their terror distinguish afar
Thy armys spears glittering the dark woods emblazon
When led to the fight by the mighty Morar

239

Tho no son is left in thy valour assuming
Valour once that increased the horrors of war
To distinguish in fight what distinguishd a father
Still still shalt thou live o brave fallen Morar

The Minstrelsys song shall swell high with thy story
Ever dear to the Minstrel the feats of the war
& Poets triumphant recording thy Glory
Shall warn future ages to notice Morar
Here while the turf swells near the scene of the Action
Where vengance once breath'd all the horrors of war
Cur[i]ositys Visits shall oft be exclaiming
‘Thats the Grave of the Soldier—The Valiant Morar’.