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 |  |
500
CANTO VII.
Monday, 29th November.
Aurora opes the portals of the dawn,And orient Phœbus chequered through the pane.
Up springs the youth, the youth upsprings and sighs—
Farewell, ye regal halls, farewell, he cries;
Farewell, unhappy honours of the war:
I grasp, I grasp, thy sable hand, Despair.
Ye well-known mountains, and ye rural scenes,
Ye rough-browed rocks, and heath-involved plains,
Receive your traveller, nor receive him whole,
The fair Egidia claims your ranger's soul:
Once more I'll trace alone these arduous brows,
And pitying Echo shall repeat my woes.
Ye once-loved scenes, what pleasure can ye find?
What blessed solace to sooth the Hunter's mind?
501
Can free my mind of heart-corroding care.
Still to my mind thy form shall stand confessed,
Till death shall snatch thee from my bleeding breast.
November 30.
But how remove and leave the maid behind,
The pain, the comfort, of my love-sick mind?
Farewell, O north! farewell, ye heathy plains,
The maid detains me in coercive chains.
But how be here, and view these heavenly charms
Infolded willing in another's arms?
Another revel on that snowy breast;
Another in the fair Egidia blessed.
I'll fly, I'll fly these soul-inflaming eyes,
Roar seas betwixt us, and let mountains rise.
Be silent fame, nor ever pain the ear,
I wish to know, it thrills my soul with fear.
The pain, the comfort, of my love-sick mind?
Farewell, O north! farewell, ye heathy plains,
The maid detains me in coercive chains.
But how be here, and view these heavenly charms
Infolded willing in another's arms?
Another revel on that snowy breast;
Another in the fair Egidia blessed.
I'll fly, I'll fly these soul-inflaming eyes,
Roar seas betwixt us, and let mountains rise.
Be silent fame, nor ever pain the ear,
I wish to know, it thrills my soul with fear.
Thus racked the hill-born youth his manly mind;
Nor knew beneath thy hand Egidia pined,
All-conquering love! Increased the golden day,
And darts oblique on earth a sultry ray.
The peers assembled in the audience hall,
And, where the valiant youth? incessant call.
With heavy steps the mountaineer descends;
Each honoured hero to the warrior bends.
The feast renewed—goes round the sparkling bowl,
And temperate draughts revive the drooping soul.
And deigns the stranger tell from whence he came,
To reap this harvest of unequal fame,
The monarch placid spoke—What happy sire
To hear thy deeds shall feel a father's fire?
What happy mother does the hero own,
Who now sits tearful for her godlike son?
What numerous tribe now miss your warrior-head,
While in the youth the people's bulwark fled?
Say, highly-honoured, say, your country's friend,
Speak, valiant youth:—Ye noble peers attend.
The monarch said, and with attentive mien
Expects reply.—The Hunter, touched with pain,
In mute suspense, and deep-revolving stands,
Fain to evade—but 'tis the king commands.
Then thus: Of me no joyful father hears,
No matron's eye for me is drowned in tears;
No numerous tribe sigh for their absent head;
In me, in me no popular bulwark fled:
Obscure, unhonoured, and the mate of swains;
No noble blood encircles in these veins.
Nor knew beneath thy hand Egidia pined,
All-conquering love! Increased the golden day,
And darts oblique on earth a sultry ray.
The peers assembled in the audience hall,
And, where the valiant youth? incessant call.
With heavy steps the mountaineer descends;
Each honoured hero to the warrior bends.
The feast renewed—goes round the sparkling bowl,
And temperate draughts revive the drooping soul.
And deigns the stranger tell from whence he came,
To reap this harvest of unequal fame,
The monarch placid spoke—What happy sire
To hear thy deeds shall feel a father's fire?
What happy mother does the hero own,
Who now sits tearful for her godlike son?
502
While in the youth the people's bulwark fled?
Say, highly-honoured, say, your country's friend,
Speak, valiant youth:—Ye noble peers attend.
The monarch said, and with attentive mien
Expects reply.—The Hunter, touched with pain,
In mute suspense, and deep-revolving stands,
Fain to evade—but 'tis the king commands.
Then thus: Of me no joyful father hears,
No matron's eye for me is drowned in tears;
No numerous tribe sigh for their absent head;
In me, in me no popular bulwark fled:
Obscure, unhonoured, and the mate of swains;
No noble blood encircles in these veins.
2d December, 1756.
Ere reason shone upon my infant mind,
If fame says true, too fickle fortune, kind,
Smiled on the morn of life; her little care
A nurse removes from all-destroying war.
From house to house, from land to land, she flies,
Infolding in her arms her little prize:
My dear, my dear, oft, oft she weeping said,
And me unto her heaving bosom laid;
How fallen! how fallen is that house of state!
Once blest recess of what is truly great.
How wrapt in night is all that grandeur gone!
And you, my darling, hopeless, left alone.
Ah me! when pierced with steel thy father lay,
And bloody streams flow round him every way,
Thy mother came, she starts, she tears her hair,
And with her shrieks she rends the midway air;
What cruel hand, what bloody hand, she cries,
Has done this deed? her words are lost in sighs.
My life! my soul! what more have I beneath?
She stopt—she staggered, and she swooned in death.
What ruffian rage from every hall resounds;
Groans press on groans, and wounds increase on wounds.
Here, pierced with steel, a faithful servant lay;
And windowed there the mangled maids decay.
With thee, with thee, my life, I trembling fly,
And tempt the horrors of the nightly sky;
Through want and penury with thee I fare,
Nor pay too dearly for protecting care.
Thus oft she said, thus oft she wept and sighed,
While I, in pity to her sorrow, cried.
If fame says true, too fickle fortune, kind,
Smiled on the morn of life; her little care
A nurse removes from all-destroying war.
From house to house, from land to land, she flies,
Infolding in her arms her little prize:
My dear, my dear, oft, oft she weeping said,
And me unto her heaving bosom laid;
How fallen! how fallen is that house of state!
Once blest recess of what is truly great.
How wrapt in night is all that grandeur gone!
And you, my darling, hopeless, left alone.
Ah me! when pierced with steel thy father lay,
And bloody streams flow round him every way,
Thy mother came, she starts, she tears her hair,
And with her shrieks she rends the midway air;
503
Has done this deed? her words are lost in sighs.
My life! my soul! what more have I beneath?
She stopt—she staggered, and she swooned in death.
What ruffian rage from every hall resounds;
Groans press on groans, and wounds increase on wounds.
Here, pierced with steel, a faithful servant lay;
And windowed there the mangled maids decay.
With thee, with thee, my life, I trembling fly,
And tempt the horrors of the nightly sky;
Through want and penury with thee I fare,
Nor pay too dearly for protecting care.
Thus oft she said, thus oft she wept and sighed,
While I, in pity to her sorrow, cried.
Now twice three summers scarce my limbs informed
With hapless life, while yet more roughly stormed
Thy blasts, Misfortune! fluctuating tide
Of life, how changeful! my preserver died.
Then sighing, tearing, friendless, sad, forlorn,
Full on thy headlong stream, Misfortune! borne;
With trembling steps, through unknown lands, I stray;
Goodnature feeds, and fortune points the way.
Unheedful, onward thus I mournful tread,
Till Grampian rocks, projected o'er my head,
Threat ruin o'er my head; bewildered there,
With mournful cries, I rend the empty air.
I sigh, I gasp, my hapless fate bemoan,
And echoing rocks returning groan for groan.
Woe's me, I soft repeat in broken sighs;
Woe's me, false echo from the rocks replies.
O come, O come, I then enraptured cry;
O come, O come, the hollow rocks reply.
The voice obeyed. I come, 'tis silence all;
I cry, another rock repeats the call.
From rock to rock, from hill to hill, I move,
And long, Fatigue! against thy toils I strove:
O'ercome with care, o'erwhelmed with endless toil,
I spread my limbs along the heathy soil.
The plaintive sound begins to faint in sighs;
The sad response in just gradation dies.
With hapless life, while yet more roughly stormed
Thy blasts, Misfortune! fluctuating tide
Of life, how changeful! my preserver died.
Then sighing, tearing, friendless, sad, forlorn,
Full on thy headlong stream, Misfortune! borne;
With trembling steps, through unknown lands, I stray;
Goodnature feeds, and fortune points the way.
Unheedful, onward thus I mournful tread,
Till Grampian rocks, projected o'er my head,
Threat ruin o'er my head; bewildered there,
With mournful cries, I rend the empty air.
I sigh, I gasp, my hapless fate bemoan,
And echoing rocks returning groan for groan.
Woe's me, I soft repeat in broken sighs;
Woe's me, false echo from the rocks replies.
O come, O come, I then enraptured cry;
O come, O come, the hollow rocks reply.
The voice obeyed. I come, 'tis silence all;
I cry, another rock repeats the call.
From rock to rock, from hill to hill, I move,
And long, Fatigue! against thy toils I strove:
504
I spread my limbs along the heathy soil.
The plaintive sound begins to faint in sighs;
The sad response in just gradation dies.
I now am dandled by the hand of fate,
And death seems knocking at the trembling gate.
Upon the cheek the roseate colour dies,
And life swims faintly on my closing eyes.
While 'twixt two rocks the setting sun displays
A golden splendour and a stream of rays,
Advanced a shade; I, starting, hope to fly,
The weakened limbs my vain efforts defy.
At first I saw a frizled snow of hair,
Lost in the gleam, or glistering wave in air:
A nearer view disclosed a withered man,
Deep-dinted wrinkles both his cheeks o'er-ran;
Sunk are his bloodshot eyes, each blooming grace
Congealed, and age sat wintered on his face.
Inwrapt in party-coloured plaid he stands;
A batton trembled in his aged hands:
He views, he feels the hapless foundling's woes,
And pity brightens on his aged brows:
A generous sympathy his bosom warms;
He hugs me, trembling, in his folding arms.
Cease, cease to cry, my dear, he soothing said,
Cease, cease to cry, then wrapt me in his plaid.
Whence came the babe? whence came my child? he cries;
I answered not, congealed in dumb surprise.
What cursed design, what cruel heart could part
Such blooming beauty from a brazen heart?
What heavenly features, what attractive grace,
What beauty wanders in his blooming face!
How sweetly pleasant through that vail of woes,
Thus in a shower is seen the blushing rose:
O cease, my son, and dry these briny tears,
You'll find a father in my tottering years.
And death seems knocking at the trembling gate.
Upon the cheek the roseate colour dies,
And life swims faintly on my closing eyes.
While 'twixt two rocks the setting sun displays
A golden splendour and a stream of rays,
Advanced a shade; I, starting, hope to fly,
The weakened limbs my vain efforts defy.
At first I saw a frizled snow of hair,
Lost in the gleam, or glistering wave in air:
A nearer view disclosed a withered man,
Deep-dinted wrinkles both his cheeks o'er-ran;
Sunk are his bloodshot eyes, each blooming grace
Congealed, and age sat wintered on his face.
Inwrapt in party-coloured plaid he stands;
A batton trembled in his aged hands:
He views, he feels the hapless foundling's woes,
And pity brightens on his aged brows:
A generous sympathy his bosom warms;
He hugs me, trembling, in his folding arms.
Cease, cease to cry, my dear, he soothing said,
Cease, cease to cry, then wrapt me in his plaid.
Whence came the babe? whence came my child? he cries;
I answered not, congealed in dumb surprise.
What cursed design, what cruel heart could part
Such blooming beauty from a brazen heart?
What heavenly features, what attractive grace,
What beauty wanders in his blooming face!
How sweetly pleasant through that vail of woes,
Thus in a shower is seen the blushing rose:
O cease, my son, and dry these briny tears,
You'll find a father in my tottering years.
505
He ceased, and me unto his bosom pressed,
Yet unconfirmed, I trembled on his breast;
As one who, hopeless, carried on the tide,
By unexpected fortune gains the side,
Suspended on a twig, in deep surprise,
Quakes on the plain, and scarce believes his eyes.
I trembled thus; he shakes the heathy plains
With tottering feet; his steps a staff sustains.
At length from his low roof black columns rise
Of pitchy smoke, and gain on evening skies.
The turfy hut, with virid moss o'ergrown,
Long rows support of uncemented stone.
Round, sheep, rough goats, and lowing herds appear,
And sounds commixed invade at once the ear.
Rocks intersperse the variegated space;
Here stony columns rise, there smiles the virid grass:
While through the shaded green, rough murmuring, glides
A brook crystalline, with meand'ring tides.
Yet unconfirmed, I trembled on his breast;
As one who, hopeless, carried on the tide,
By unexpected fortune gains the side,
Suspended on a twig, in deep surprise,
Quakes on the plain, and scarce believes his eyes.
I trembled thus; he shakes the heathy plains
With tottering feet; his steps a staff sustains.
At length from his low roof black columns rise
Of pitchy smoke, and gain on evening skies.
The turfy hut, with virid moss o'ergrown,
Long rows support of uncemented stone.
Round, sheep, rough goats, and lowing herds appear,
And sounds commixed invade at once the ear.
Rocks intersperse the variegated space;
Here stony columns rise, there smiles the virid grass:
While through the shaded green, rough murmuring, glides
A brook crystalline, with meand'ring tides.
| The poems of Ossian | |