The poems of Ossian &c. containing the Poetical Works of James Macpherson, Esq. in prose and rhyme: with notes and illustrations by Malcolm Laing. In two volumes |
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 | The poems of Ossian |  |
478
CANTO III.
While thus the wanderer pressed his sandy bed,
And downy sleep sheds balm around his head,
Destructive Care on sable pinion flies,
And spreads his phantoms on the monarch's eyes.
Fierce foes the throne of regal Scotia threat;
The English thunder at the palace gate.
The monarch starts, the reverend senate calls;
The nobler peerage throng the royal halls.
The king arose, his graceful visage shook,
Then stretched his sceptre, and commanding spoke.
And downy sleep sheds balm around his head,
Destructive Care on sable pinion flies,
And spreads his phantoms on the monarch's eyes.
Fierce foes the throne of regal Scotia threat;
The English thunder at the palace gate.
The monarch starts, the reverend senate calls;
The nobler peerage throng the royal halls.
The king arose, his graceful visage shook,
Then stretched his sceptre, and commanding spoke.
Ye chiefs, ye heroes, ye professed foes
Of hateful slavery and th' aspiring Rose,
If on the iron field, incased in arms,
Ye taught your foes that liberty had charms;
If, dauntless chiefs! ye bore of generous toil,
And met with death to save a barren soil;
Now, now, O! generous lend the timely aid,
And break the storm that threatens Scotia's head.
This to our mother we, her children, owe;
Our country's enemy is still our foe.
Bleak Desolation, on her lonely wings,
The foe through all the south terrific brings:
And now, nocturnal, on the yellow sand,
In sable walls the embattled English stand
In close array. To-morrow they prepare
To hurl against our walls the stormy war.
Rise, Caledonian chiefs! ye heroes, rise!
Your bleeding country for your succour cries.
Thus in the iron field a father falls,
And grasping his dear son, incessant calls,
Revenge, my son, revenge my death! he cries.
The son obeys—revenges, or he dies.
Of hateful slavery and th' aspiring Rose,
If on the iron field, incased in arms,
Ye taught your foes that liberty had charms;
If, dauntless chiefs! ye bore of generous toil,
And met with death to save a barren soil;
Now, now, O! generous lend the timely aid,
And break the storm that threatens Scotia's head.
479
Our country's enemy is still our foe.
Bleak Desolation, on her lonely wings,
The foe through all the south terrific brings:
And now, nocturnal, on the yellow sand,
In sable walls the embattled English stand
In close array. To-morrow they prepare
To hurl against our walls the stormy war.
Rise, Caledonian chiefs! ye heroes, rise!
Your bleeding country for your succour cries.
Thus in the iron field a father falls,
And grasping his dear son, incessant calls,
Revenge, my son, revenge my death! he cries.
The son obeys—revenges, or he dies.
The monarch said; the loyal chiefs obey,
Their homage done, majestic strode away.
His country's love each generous bosom warms;
The streets resound with fight deciding arms. [OMITTED]
Their homage done, majestic strode away.
His country's love each generous bosom warms;
The streets resound with fight deciding arms. [OMITTED]
Before the camp they rest, till sacred light
Inflame the soul, and teach the hands to fight.
Dark night, involved in gloomy clouds, now fled;
The sun o'er ocean reared his beamy head:
In dazzling light the foaming billows roll'd,
The sloping hills are lined with fusil gold.
On sable pinions, from the Hunter's eyes
Lid-bending sleep, cloud-mantled, silent flies.
On downy gales the restful power is laid,
Oblivious vapours fume his drowsy head.
His half-shut eye all in confusion sees
His matted hair remurmur in the breeze:
His loose-thrown robe hangs careless round his limbs,
Or in the gale in wreathy volumes swims.
With downcast eyes, Oblivion, silent shade!
In her dark bosom hugs his vapour'd head.
[OMITTED]
Inflame the soul, and teach the hands to fight.
Dark night, involved in gloomy clouds, now fled;
The sun o'er ocean reared his beamy head:
In dazzling light the foaming billows roll'd,
The sloping hills are lined with fusil gold.
On sable pinions, from the Hunter's eyes
Lid-bending sleep, cloud-mantled, silent flies.
On downy gales the restful power is laid,
Oblivious vapours fume his drowsy head.
His half-shut eye all in confusion sees
His matted hair remurmur in the breeze:
His loose-thrown robe hangs careless round his limbs,
Or in the gale in wreathy volumes swims.
480
In her dark bosom hugs his vapour'd head.
Refresh'd, the Highlander uprightly stood,
And views afar the silver-gilded flood;
While in the port the loved sea-faring train
Fit the tall bark to the rough murmuring main.
He enters; to the sea the ship advanced,
Plow'd through the waves, and on the billows danced.
Cut by the prow, the foam inlaced tides
Quiver astern, and lash the oaken sides:
The murmuring north-west, with refreshing gales,
Hoarse whistles through the shrouds, and swells the sails.
And views afar the silver-gilded flood;
While in the port the loved sea-faring train
Fit the tall bark to the rough murmuring main.
He enters; to the sea the ship advanced,
Plow'd through the waves, and on the billows danced.
Cut by the prow, the foam inlaced tides
Quiver astern, and lash the oaken sides:
The murmuring north-west, with refreshing gales,
Hoarse whistles through the shrouds, and swells the sails.
Now on the eye the southern mountains grow,
Lithæan towers advance, solemnly slow;
While trumpets, clarions, noble shouts of war,
With mingled sounds, invade the Hunter's ear.
A noble ardour, never known till then,
Swells on the blood, and boils in every vein:
He more majestic moves; enlarged more,
His soul accused the slow-coming shore.
Arrived—he eager leaps upon the ground;
His rattling arms emit an iron sound.
With mighty strides he sweeps along the sand,
And bends his footsteps to the lesser band.
Lithæan towers advance, solemnly slow;
While trumpets, clarions, noble shouts of war,
With mingled sounds, invade the Hunter's ear.
A noble ardour, never known till then,
Swells on the blood, and boils in every vein:
He more majestic moves; enlarged more,
His soul accused the slow-coming shore.
Arrived—he eager leaps upon the ground;
His rattling arms emit an iron sound.
With mighty strides he sweeps along the sand,
And bends his footsteps to the lesser band.
Thus in the lowly hut, the faithful hound,
With tender twigs of yielding osier bound,
When, far without, he hears the blasting horns,
Leaps here and there, and in his bondage burns;
But once let loose, he snuffs the gelid wind,
And leaves the winged blast to puff behind.
With tender twigs of yielding osier bound,
When, far without, he hears the blasting horns,
Leaps here and there, and in his bondage burns;
But once let loose, he snuffs the gelid wind,
And leaves the winged blast to puff behind.
The youth arrived, when o'er the northern main
The lovely form of Liberty is seen.
A heavenly splendour, and unfading grace,
Flashed from her eyes, and wandered in her face;
Her lovely skin the varied beauty shews,
Of the white lilly, and the blushing rose.
Justice around her spreads her awful reign,
And Innocence, in white robes, neatly plain,
Smiles life away; when sweet Fidelity,
With sister Modesty, completes the joy.
There Science stands, in endless pleasure clad,
Eternal laurels flourish on her head.
Each Muse, a lovely choir! around her sings,
And gnawing Care thére drops the pointless stings.
Oppression, ghastly shade! her presence flies;
The trembling tyrant veils his coward eyes,
When clad in wrath, and law-maintaining arms,
The goddess shines in more than mortal charms.
Majestically slow descends the fair;
Her snow-white robe swims on the placid air,
And on the royal head conspicuous stood,
With courage keen, and dauntless fortitude.
She raised her voice; the rocks re-echo round;
The embattled English tremble at the sound.
Thrice call'd the power, and thrice the ocean rang,
And from the starting horse the riders hang:
When Courage, through the Scottish ranks confessed,
With his immortal steel incased each breast.
Each generous soul confess'd with ardent joy,
I'll save my country, or revenged die.
But more than all the youthful Hunter burns,
Joy swells his breast, and vengeance stings by turns.
Pain heaves his beating heart; his form, improved,
Towers o'er the field, and as a god he moved.
Terror, commixed with soul-attractive grace,
Flashed from each feature of his manly face.
The lovely form of Liberty is seen.
A heavenly splendour, and unfading grace,
Flashed from her eyes, and wandered in her face;
481
Of the white lilly, and the blushing rose.
Justice around her spreads her awful reign,
And Innocence, in white robes, neatly plain,
Smiles life away; when sweet Fidelity,
With sister Modesty, completes the joy.
There Science stands, in endless pleasure clad,
Eternal laurels flourish on her head.
Each Muse, a lovely choir! around her sings,
And gnawing Care thére drops the pointless stings.
Oppression, ghastly shade! her presence flies;
The trembling tyrant veils his coward eyes,
When clad in wrath, and law-maintaining arms,
The goddess shines in more than mortal charms.
Majestically slow descends the fair;
Her snow-white robe swims on the placid air,
And on the royal head conspicuous stood,
With courage keen, and dauntless fortitude.
She raised her voice; the rocks re-echo round;
The embattled English tremble at the sound.
Thrice call'd the power, and thrice the ocean rang,
And from the starting horse the riders hang:
When Courage, through the Scottish ranks confessed,
With his immortal steel incased each breast.
Each generous soul confess'd with ardent joy,
I'll save my country, or revenged die.
But more than all the youthful Hunter burns,
Joy swells his breast, and vengeance stings by turns.
Pain heaves his beating heart; his form, improved,
Towers o'er the field, and as a god he moved.
Terror, commixed with soul-attractive grace,
Flashed from each feature of his manly face.
| The poems of Ossian | |