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 |  |
471
CANTO II.
In Donald's eye now fade the blissful scenes:
The rough brow'd rocks, the sloping hills and plains,
Delight no more; no chace, no winged fowl,
No goat, no cattle, cheer the troubled soul;
The hut is hateful, and the fields of corn
Contract their bounds, and promise no return.
All is one blank—O envy'd, envy'd state,
The hunter cries, of all the happy great!
While press'd in poverty's hard iron hand,
I force poor sustenance from barren land,
Remote from life, and curs'd by fate unkind,
To struggle on the hill with northern wind,
Secure, in stately halls, the feast they ply,
And swim through life in deluges of joy.
The hut, the heathy wild, the barren fold,
The rattling hail, the north-descended cold,
Is all my portion—all a swain can boast,
Still 'twixt vicissitude's rough billows toss'd.
O partial Heavens! O Providence unkind!
Mine is the well-strung arm, the feeling mind;
Yet scarce can wade through miseries of life,
Combat with care, with care in endless strife.
O why, ye Powers, not bless me with a mind
To all the blasts of poverty resigned,
Or bless me greatly with the affluent store,
Nor doom the hapless hunter to be poor?
But why this moan? Thus always to complain
Suits only women, worthless 'tis in men:
Why thus repine! why thus for ever grieve!
I am but young, 'tis time enough to live;
Youth, sprightly bloom! the prize is still in view:
Rise, hunter, rise, and happiness pursue.
Thus on the hilly surface of the heath
The dog pursues the hare, and gasps for breath;
Unfainting, eager, he devours the way,
Till in his jaws he churns the quivering prey.
The rough brow'd rocks, the sloping hills and plains,
Delight no more; no chace, no winged fowl,
No goat, no cattle, cheer the troubled soul;
The hut is hateful, and the fields of corn
Contract their bounds, and promise no return.
All is one blank—O envy'd, envy'd state,
The hunter cries, of all the happy great!
While press'd in poverty's hard iron hand,
I force poor sustenance from barren land,
Remote from life, and curs'd by fate unkind,
To struggle on the hill with northern wind,
Secure, in stately halls, the feast they ply,
And swim through life in deluges of joy.
The hut, the heathy wild, the barren fold,
The rattling hail, the north-descended cold,
Is all my portion—all a swain can boast,
Still 'twixt vicissitude's rough billows toss'd.
472
Mine is the well-strung arm, the feeling mind;
Yet scarce can wade through miseries of life,
Combat with care, with care in endless strife.
O why, ye Powers, not bless me with a mind
To all the blasts of poverty resigned,
Or bless me greatly with the affluent store,
Nor doom the hapless hunter to be poor?
But why this moan? Thus always to complain
Suits only women, worthless 'tis in men:
Why thus repine! why thus for ever grieve!
I am but young, 'tis time enough to live;
Youth, sprightly bloom! the prize is still in view:
Rise, hunter, rise, and happiness pursue.
Thus on the hilly surface of the heath
The dog pursues the hare, and gasps for breath;
Unfainting, eager, he devours the way,
Till in his jaws he churns the quivering prey.
Thus said, the mountaineer indignant rose;
Around his limbs the spangled plaid he throws;
About his waist the rough broad cincture flies;
The plaid hangs plaited down his brawny thighs;
Straight down his side the temper'd dagger hung;
Athwart his thigh the sabre glides along;
On his left breast he heaveth with his breath
The polished pistol, minister of death!
He snatched the tube, companion of his toil,
Secured from rust by foxes furry spoil:
Then bounding forward, he devours the way;
The oaten fields, and low-roof'd hut decay;
The hills slip backward, as the hunter strides
Along the sharp spik'd rocks and mountain's sides.
In sober majesty the silent night
Advanced from the east, and drove before the light;
While yet the hunter rattled through the heath,
Moved the lithe limbs, and sigh'd with panting breath.
Around his limbs the spangled plaid he throws;
About his waist the rough broad cincture flies;
The plaid hangs plaited down his brawny thighs;
Straight down his side the temper'd dagger hung;
Athwart his thigh the sabre glides along;
On his left breast he heaveth with his breath
The polished pistol, minister of death!
He snatched the tube, companion of his toil,
Secured from rust by foxes furry spoil:
Then bounding forward, he devours the way;
The oaten fields, and low-roof'd hut decay;
The hills slip backward, as the hunter strides
Along the sharp spik'd rocks and mountain's sides.
In sober majesty the silent night
Advanced from the east, and drove before the light;
While yet the hunter rattled through the heath,
Moved the lithe limbs, and sigh'd with panting breath.
473
A hill there is, which forms a sable wall
Through all the north, and men it Grampus call.
Here lean-cheek'd Barrenness terrific strides;
A tattered robe waves round her iron sides;
Two baleful eyes roll in her iron face;
Her meagre hand supports a pile of grass;
Her bare white skull no decent covering shews;
Eternal tempests rattle on her brows;
Lank-sided Want, and pale-eyed Poverty,
And sharp-tooth'd Famine, still around her fly;
Health-gotten Hunger, want-descended Pain,
Vein-numbing Cold—are all her gloomy train.
The hunter view'd; a shiv'ring tremour ran
Through every vein, and vanquished all the man:
Extended wide he lay upon the heath,
And catch'd from zephyr to recruit his breath.
Refreshed he rose, and levels with his eye
The blue-tubed gun. Black deaths in lightning fly;
A roe falls shrieking: her the hunter flead;
The beast on heathy shrubs in order laid;
Then struck the fire; the living sparkles fly,
The flames ascend, and quiver in the sky.
The flesh, surrounded by the wasteful fire,
Buzz in the flames; the flames in smoke expire.
Through all the north, and men it Grampus call.
Here lean-cheek'd Barrenness terrific strides;
A tattered robe waves round her iron sides;
Two baleful eyes roll in her iron face;
Her meagre hand supports a pile of grass;
Her bare white skull no decent covering shews;
Eternal tempests rattle on her brows;
Lank-sided Want, and pale-eyed Poverty,
And sharp-tooth'd Famine, still around her fly;
Health-gotten Hunger, want-descended Pain,
Vein-numbing Cold—are all her gloomy train.
The hunter view'd; a shiv'ring tremour ran
Through every vein, and vanquished all the man:
Extended wide he lay upon the heath,
And catch'd from zephyr to recruit his breath.
Refreshed he rose, and levels with his eye
The blue-tubed gun. Black deaths in lightning fly;
A roe falls shrieking: her the hunter flead;
The beast on heathy shrubs in order laid;
Then struck the fire; the living sparkles fly,
The flames ascend, and quiver in the sky.
The flesh, surrounded by the wasteful fire,
Buzz in the flames; the flames in smoke expire.
And now the pangs of hunger drop their rage,
His thirst the gently-flowing brooks assuage.
Secure upon the bank his limbs he spread,
And peaceful slumbers hover round his head.
The night her sable car through half the plain
Of heaven drove, and spread her silent reign;
Her twinkling eyes the gloomy goddess shrouds
With a dark veil of rain-condensed clouds;
When, lo! before the sleeping hunter's eyes
His father Malcolm's phantom seem'd to rise.
Thin are the snowy honours of his head;
An half-worn shroud waves round the long since dead.
He slow advanced, his furrow'd visage shook,
Then stretched his skinny hand, and thus he spoke:
His thirst the gently-flowing brooks assuage.
Secure upon the bank his limbs he spread,
And peaceful slumbers hover round his head.
The night her sable car through half the plain
Of heaven drove, and spread her silent reign;
Her twinkling eyes the gloomy goddess shrouds
With a dark veil of rain-condensed clouds;
When, lo! before the sleeping hunter's eyes
His father Malcolm's phantom seem'd to rise.
Thin are the snowy honours of his head;
An half-worn shroud waves round the long since dead.
474
Then stretched his skinny hand, and thus he spoke:
Why, why, my son! O, why, my only joy!
Why from his house does youthful Donald fly?
What wicked demon, enemy of rest,
Has ruffled the smooth surface of your breast?
Return, return! in vain you fly from Care,
Sharp stings the gnawing monster every where.
To shun him sailors vainly billows cleave;
He sits incumbent on each sable wave.
In vain through rugged earth incessant roam;
Man is his prey, and everywhere his home.
Him vile Ambition, in a foul embrace,
Got on Corruption; ghastly is his face,
Red are his wakeful eyes; around he stares,
His form is rack'd with never ceasing fears.
Face-wintering wrinkles on his cheeks he draws,
And poison bubbles round his grinning jaws.
He always looks, but never sees aright;
Imagined phantoms swim before his sight.
The shade of Want remote, and Poverty,
Are figured out by the unfaithful eye.
He starves in plenty, troubled is in rest,
And sleep ne'er floats upon his boiling breast.
Unseen, but felt, oft in the halls of state
He sits, and tinges all the pompous treat.
And oft he hovers round the downy bed,
Thundering despair around the statesman's head,
While happy, on the wide extended plain,
The shepherd scarcely owns his rigid reign.
What though no grandeur spreads his homely boards,
Confined to what sweet temperance affords:
No pride, with gaudy mazes, ever swims
Around his ample chest and brawny limbs;
Yet sweet Content anxiety beguiles,
Triumphs o'er Care, and tempers life with smiles.
Thus, in the dark recesses of the grove,
The shrouded birds tune elegies of love;
The walker listens to the tuneful lay,
While unperceived the rough road steals away.
Why from his house does youthful Donald fly?
What wicked demon, enemy of rest,
Has ruffled the smooth surface of your breast?
Return, return! in vain you fly from Care,
Sharp stings the gnawing monster every where.
To shun him sailors vainly billows cleave;
He sits incumbent on each sable wave.
In vain through rugged earth incessant roam;
Man is his prey, and everywhere his home.
Him vile Ambition, in a foul embrace,
Got on Corruption; ghastly is his face,
Red are his wakeful eyes; around he stares,
His form is rack'd with never ceasing fears.
Face-wintering wrinkles on his cheeks he draws,
And poison bubbles round his grinning jaws.
He always looks, but never sees aright;
Imagined phantoms swim before his sight.
The shade of Want remote, and Poverty,
Are figured out by the unfaithful eye.
He starves in plenty, troubled is in rest,
And sleep ne'er floats upon his boiling breast.
Unseen, but felt, oft in the halls of state
He sits, and tinges all the pompous treat.
And oft he hovers round the downy bed,
Thundering despair around the statesman's head,
While happy, on the wide extended plain,
The shepherd scarcely owns his rigid reign.
What though no grandeur spreads his homely boards,
Confined to what sweet temperance affords:
No pride, with gaudy mazes, ever swims
Around his ample chest and brawny limbs;
Yet sweet Content anxiety beguiles,
Triumphs o'er Care, and tempers life with smiles.
475
The shrouded birds tune elegies of love;
The walker listens to the tuneful lay,
While unperceived the rough road steals away.
Thus said, he fades before the hunter's sight,
And the pale form is wrapt in gloomy night;
Amidst the breeze the dying words are lost,
And nought is heard but the shrill whistling blast.
Aghast the hunter rose; soft sleep is fled;
Upright stood all the honours of his head:
He draws his sword, around a circle broke;
Then blest the place, and to himself thus spoke:
And the pale form is wrapt in gloomy night;
Amidst the breeze the dying words are lost,
And nought is heard but the shrill whistling blast.
Aghast the hunter rose; soft sleep is fled;
Upright stood all the honours of his head:
He draws his sword, around a circle broke;
Then blest the place, and to himself thus spoke:
If in the wide expanses of the sky,
On gloomy air departed spirits fly,
Sure this was he, for yet I seem to hear,
As yet his accents hang upon the ear.
The well-known voice, the child-instructing tongue,
Could to no shade but to my sire belong.
The same his visage, and his shape the same;
Thus sunk into the grave the ancient frame.
But how be here? since fleeting spirits dwell,
As parsons say, in heaven or in hell,
Not wandering free, but still confined to space,
To gulphs of sorrow, or to vales of peace,
Unheedful, unconcerned for aught below,
And blood created friendship cease to glow.
For when the unharnessed soul is fled in breath,
And the rough vessel sinks in gloomy death,
Each earthly love, each blood-formed passion gone,
The untainted soul shall love the soul alone.
Cease, Donald cease, to be in endless pain
For the wild fancy of thy dastard brain.
'Tis cowardice that raised the grisly shade,
Described grim Care, and not thy father dead.
Thus oft the trembling, easy frightened hind,
Hears shrill dogs yelping in each blast of wind;
His frighten'd fancy empty terrors sees,
Makes dogs of stones, and men of distant trees.
On gloomy air departed spirits fly,
Sure this was he, for yet I seem to hear,
As yet his accents hang upon the ear.
The well-known voice, the child-instructing tongue,
Could to no shade but to my sire belong.
The same his visage, and his shape the same;
Thus sunk into the grave the ancient frame.
But how be here? since fleeting spirits dwell,
As parsons say, in heaven or in hell,
Not wandering free, but still confined to space,
To gulphs of sorrow, or to vales of peace,
Unheedful, unconcerned for aught below,
And blood created friendship cease to glow.
For when the unharnessed soul is fled in breath,
And the rough vessel sinks in gloomy death,
Each earthly love, each blood-formed passion gone,
The untainted soul shall love the soul alone.
476
For the wild fancy of thy dastard brain.
'Tis cowardice that raised the grisly shade,
Described grim Care, and not thy father dead.
Thus oft the trembling, easy frightened hind,
Hears shrill dogs yelping in each blast of wind;
His frighten'd fancy empty terrors sees,
Makes dogs of stones, and men of distant trees.
The Hunter argued thus, devoid of rest,
Thus rolled the passions in his troubled breast:
While sprightly morn, in spangled beauties clad,
Reared o'er the eastern hill her rosy head;
Cool through the heath the mattin breezes sigh,
And wave the plaid on Donald's brawny thigh.
Cheered with the blest return of sacred light,
Eased of the gloomy terrors of the night,
He stretched his limbs, and ceaseless metes the way,
Till on the banks of clearly-flowing Tay
The Hunter stood, where the rough bubbling flood
Roars 'twixt two hills, through rocks and murmuring woods:
Laid on the banks, the trees above him waved;
His scrip provides what gnawing hunger craved.
Refresh'd he rose, then plunged into the tide;
The waves arose, and, bubbling, wash his sides;
He gains the farther shore; then, with a bound,
The Hunter rises: Showers descend around.
Thus water-fowl their downy bodies lave
In the bright bubbles of the silver wave;
Then seek the shore, and clap the ruffled wing;
Then through the air on well fledged pinions sing.
Thus shook, thus fled the man, till setting day
Darts parallel to earth his western ray.
Thus rolled the passions in his troubled breast:
While sprightly morn, in spangled beauties clad,
Reared o'er the eastern hill her rosy head;
Cool through the heath the mattin breezes sigh,
And wave the plaid on Donald's brawny thigh.
Cheered with the blest return of sacred light,
Eased of the gloomy terrors of the night,
He stretched his limbs, and ceaseless metes the way,
Till on the banks of clearly-flowing Tay
The Hunter stood, where the rough bubbling flood
Roars 'twixt two hills, through rocks and murmuring woods:
Laid on the banks, the trees above him waved;
His scrip provides what gnawing hunger craved.
Refresh'd he rose, then plunged into the tide;
The waves arose, and, bubbling, wash his sides;
He gains the farther shore; then, with a bound,
The Hunter rises: Showers descend around.
Thus water-fowl their downy bodies lave
In the bright bubbles of the silver wave;
Then seek the shore, and clap the ruffled wing;
Then through the air on well fledged pinions sing.
Thus shook, thus fled the man, till setting day
Darts parallel to earth his western ray.
A place there is, where the cerulean main
Glides up through earth, and forms an azure plain;
The Hunter stood astonish'd, to survey
The roaring billows on the watry way,
How liquid mountains dash against the shore,
The rough rocks rumble, while the billows roar.
He stretched his limbs along the murmuring deep,
And the hoarse billows lull his soul to sleep.
Glides up through earth, and forms an azure plain;
477
The roaring billows on the watry way,
How liquid mountains dash against the shore,
The rough rocks rumble, while the billows roar.
He stretched his limbs along the murmuring deep,
And the hoarse billows lull his soul to sleep.
| The poems of Ossian | |