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 |  |
518
CANTO X.
His toils, his woes, the hill-born hero sung,
While from their seats the attentive audience hung.
His woes, his toils, as yet they seem to hear;
As yet his accents hang upon the ear,
Though ceased. Swift from his seat Alcanor rose,
Down to his heel the sable mantle flows;
His aged limbs shook with the weight of years,
His fading eyes distil the briny tears:
O valiant youth! your face, the age rejoined,
Recalls my hopeless son unto my mind;
The same his features, and his shape the same,
Thus death untimely wrapt the youthful frame.
Ah me! my son, you treason's victim lay,
While at your side thy consort's charms decay;
While with thy child a matron servant fled;
And friends enquiring thought your memory dead.
But thou, dear object of my aged care,
Whom Heaven designed the sad Alcanor's heir,
By more than mortal led—thee, thee I own,
My joy, my hope, my reviviscent son!
Be still, fond heart! no more Alcanor grieves,
Since in my godlike youth my Allan lives.
The Senior said; and clasped the hero round:
His reverend sire the valiant grandson owned.
Tears flow on tears, and sigh succeeds on sigh,
And either soul melts with the sudden joy;
Swell on the air congratulations round,
And mighty titles round the Hunter sound.
Now, envy fled, the ancient peerage own,
And greatness flashes from the mean unknown.
While from their seats the attentive audience hung.
His woes, his toils, as yet they seem to hear;
As yet his accents hang upon the ear,
Though ceased. Swift from his seat Alcanor rose,
Down to his heel the sable mantle flows;
His aged limbs shook with the weight of years,
His fading eyes distil the briny tears:
O valiant youth! your face, the age rejoined,
Recalls my hopeless son unto my mind;
The same his features, and his shape the same,
Thus death untimely wrapt the youthful frame.
Ah me! my son, you treason's victim lay,
While at your side thy consort's charms decay;
While with thy child a matron servant fled;
And friends enquiring thought your memory dead.
But thou, dear object of my aged care,
Whom Heaven designed the sad Alcanor's heir,
519
My joy, my hope, my reviviscent son!
Be still, fond heart! no more Alcanor grieves,
Since in my godlike youth my Allan lives.
The Senior said; and clasped the hero round:
His reverend sire the valiant grandson owned.
Tears flow on tears, and sigh succeeds on sigh,
And either soul melts with the sudden joy;
Swell on the air congratulations round,
And mighty titles round the Hunter sound.
Now, envy fled, the ancient peerage own,
And greatness flashes from the mean unknown.
Thus in the quarry, rough in every part,
The moss-grown marble, till reformed by art,
Unvalued lies, till forming hammers groan,
The halls of greatness shine with Parian stone.
Thus shone the chief amidst the bevied great,
Brighter his fame shone on the arms of state;
With joyful shouts the palace thundered round,
And repercussive walls repel the sound.
Thus lost in distance empty thunders roar,
Or foaming billows lash the sounding shore;
Heard by the midnight travellers as they roam,
And swells the murmur on the silent gloom.
The moss-grown marble, till reformed by art,
Unvalued lies, till forming hammers groan,
The halls of greatness shine with Parian stone.
Thus shone the chief amidst the bevied great,
Brighter his fame shone on the arms of state;
With joyful shouts the palace thundered round,
And repercussive walls repel the sound.
Thus lost in distance empty thunders roar,
Or foaming billows lash the sounding shore;
Heard by the midnight travellers as they roam,
And swells the murmur on the silent gloom.
The fair Egidia, as she sat alone,
And silent breathed her sighs in plaintive moan,
Felt noisy shouts invade the trembling ear,
Starts from the dream of thought, and looks with fear.
Surprise is painted in her blooming mien,
And care succeeds the soft enamoured pain:
Ah! hapless me! the trembling virgin cries,
The tear half dropping from her azure eyes,
The warrior youth, all by the great envied,
Falls now perhaps a victim to their pride;
O'erpowered, for such of late assailed the ear,
From fields of death, and iron noise of war.
Ophelia there? Come, maid! What means that noise?
The hill-born youth departs, the peers rejoice:
My queen! the maid replies; the bowl is crowned,
And with the hero's health the vaulted halls resound.
And silent breathed her sighs in plaintive moan,
Felt noisy shouts invade the trembling ear,
Starts from the dream of thought, and looks with fear.
Surprise is painted in her blooming mien,
And care succeeds the soft enamoured pain:
Ah! hapless me! the trembling virgin cries,
The tear half dropping from her azure eyes,
The warrior youth, all by the great envied,
Falls now perhaps a victim to their pride;
O'erpowered, for such of late assailed the ear,
From fields of death, and iron noise of war.
520
The hill-born youth departs, the peers rejoice:
My queen! the maid replies; the bowl is crowned,
And with the hero's health the vaulted halls resound.
A sudden stupor every sense pervades,
Upon her cheek the roseate tincture fades;
In dumb surprise her soul astonished swims;
The downy bed supports her falling limbs:
A sudden qualm of sorrow and surprise
Bound up the tongue, and blocked the gates of voice:
The wakening soul resumes the seat again,
She ceaseless rolls in agonizing pain;
Tossed round her limbs, and furious with despair,
She beat her breast, and tore her golden hair.
Surprise is o'er; the tears begin to flow;
And words expressive of the mighty woe:
Egidia lives! and what she prized is fled!
Come, death! and waft the hapless to the dead.
Come lop this virgin flower, my sable spouse,
And quench the flood-gates of these rushing woes.
Sooth, sooth, O gentle! all my troubled breast;
Within thy arms at last my soul shall rest!
Birth, grandeur, state, farewell, ye empty toys,
Ye curse of life, obstructions of my joys!
O should a shepherdess upon the plain
Bear me, a daughter, to some humble swain;
Not nursed to grandeur, unconfined to state,
The stately youth might love his rural mate!
Clasped in Love's arms, in some low hut reclined,
I'd pour upon his breast my love-sick mind;
With thee, my swain, would bear the wintry cold,
With thee would guard the cattle to the fold;
Through Poverty's cold stream-with thee would gain,
And lean-cheek'd Want might puff his blast in vain;
With thee, with thee would tempt the rugged heath;
With thee would live, with thee would sink in death.
O bear me, bear me, Fortune, to some grove,
Where your transfixer, harts! and mine may rove.
Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind,
Nor let that form conceal an iron mind.
Upon her cheek the roseate tincture fades;
In dumb surprise her soul astonished swims;
The downy bed supports her falling limbs:
A sudden qualm of sorrow and surprise
Bound up the tongue, and blocked the gates of voice:
The wakening soul resumes the seat again,
She ceaseless rolls in agonizing pain;
Tossed round her limbs, and furious with despair,
She beat her breast, and tore her golden hair.
Surprise is o'er; the tears begin to flow;
And words expressive of the mighty woe:
Egidia lives! and what she prized is fled!
Come, death! and waft the hapless to the dead.
Come lop this virgin flower, my sable spouse,
And quench the flood-gates of these rushing woes.
Sooth, sooth, O gentle! all my troubled breast;
Within thy arms at last my soul shall rest!
Birth, grandeur, state, farewell, ye empty toys,
Ye curse of life, obstructions of my joys!
O should a shepherdess upon the plain
Bear me, a daughter, to some humble swain;
Not nursed to grandeur, unconfined to state,
The stately youth might love his rural mate!
Clasped in Love's arms, in some low hut reclined,
I'd pour upon his breast my love-sick mind;
With thee, my swain, would bear the wintry cold,
With thee would guard the cattle to the fold;
Through Poverty's cold stream-with thee would gain,
And lean-cheek'd Want might puff his blast in vain;
With thee, with thee would tempt the rugged heath;
With thee would live, with thee would sink in death.
521
Where your transfixer, harts! and mine may rove.
Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind,
Nor let that form conceal an iron mind.
I seem, I seem through lonely fields to stray,
Love wings my feet, and Love directs the way;
I see, I see my lovely Hunter come,
In pride of years, and beauty's fairest bloom.
See, see, the suppliant seems to own my charms!
I rush, I rush into his manly arms.
But why, enthusiast! does thy fancy stray?
Grandeur forbids, and birth besets the way.
See! Greatness chides me with a frowning face;
For shame, for shame, desire a clown's embrace!
Let opening earth the blushing maid receive,
Avail from Calumny the spotless grave.
But, Calumny, can you my case remove?
Too weak a combatant for mighty Love—
Love, mighty Love, I am thy victim whole!
Love holds the reins, and actuates my soul.
But ah! perhaps a maid of happier charms
Attracts the traveller to her lovely arms.
In vain, Egidia, melts thy tearful eyes,
Thy rival shall enfold thy envied prize.
Blow, Boreas, blow the rough cerulean main,
And from her arms the lovely youth detain.
Time, time may wear her image from his mind,
And chance may make the hill-born hero kind.
In vain, in vain I sooth my glowing care,
In vain elude thy venomed pangs, Despair!
Even now, perhaps, the seamen ply the oar,
And waft my soul into the farther shore.
Love wings my feet, and Love directs the way;
I see, I see my lovely Hunter come,
In pride of years, and beauty's fairest bloom.
See, see, the suppliant seems to own my charms!
I rush, I rush into his manly arms.
But why, enthusiast! does thy fancy stray?
Grandeur forbids, and birth besets the way.
See! Greatness chides me with a frowning face;
For shame, for shame, desire a clown's embrace!
Let opening earth the blushing maid receive,
Avail from Calumny the spotless grave.
But, Calumny, can you my case remove?
Too weak a combatant for mighty Love—
Love, mighty Love, I am thy victim whole!
Love holds the reins, and actuates my soul.
But ah! perhaps a maid of happier charms
Attracts the traveller to her lovely arms.
In vain, Egidia, melts thy tearful eyes,
Thy rival shall enfold thy envied prize.
Blow, Boreas, blow the rough cerulean main,
And from her arms the lovely youth detain.
Time, time may wear her image from his mind,
And chance may make the hill-born hero kind.
In vain, in vain I sooth my glowing care,
In vain elude thy venomed pangs, Despair!
Even now, perhaps, the seamen ply the oar,
And waft my soul into the farther shore.
The lovely maid upon the bed reclined,
Thus mournful tortured all her virgin mind.
Obsequious maids, around the love-sick fair,
Fetch sigh for sigh, and tear distil with tear.
Some silent stand, and some attempt relief
By balmy words, and sooth the virgin's grief;
But still her snowy throbbing bosom sighs,
And tears descend from her love-darting eyes.
Her snowy neck disordered hair o'erspread,
Her tear-washed cheeks diffuse a rosy red,
Her swelling arms are decored with snow,
And all the graces in the virgin glow.
Thus mournful tortured all her virgin mind.
Obsequious maids, around the love-sick fair,
Fetch sigh for sigh, and tear distil with tear.
522
By balmy words, and sooth the virgin's grief;
But still her snowy throbbing bosom sighs,
And tears descend from her love-darting eyes.
Her snowy neck disordered hair o'erspread,
Her tear-washed cheeks diffuse a rosy red,
Her swelling arms are decored with snow,
And all the graces in the virgin glow.
Thus, spreading her white limbs along the plains,
The blooming Venus mourned Adonis slain:
Adown her rosy neck the tresses flow,
Her eyes look languid through the veil of woe;
'Twixt her loose robe her heaving breast is seen,
And all the graces mourn around their queen.
Thus on the downy bed the virgin burns,
And round the fair the blooming bevy mourns.
The blooming Venus mourned Adonis slain:
Adown her rosy neck the tresses flow,
Her eyes look languid through the veil of woe;
'Twixt her loose robe her heaving breast is seen,
And all the graces mourn around their queen.
Thus on the downy bed the virgin burns,
And round the fair the blooming bevy mourns.
The monarch hears his love-sick daughter's pain:
Why weeps my daughter, why, my joy, complain?
The youth remains, nor is the noble fled,
Nor shall his noble blood disgrace the marriage-bed.
No horrid herdsman, no indecent hind,
Of clownish manners, or rapacious mind,
First, Cupid, aimed thy soft enamouring dart,
And vanquished all my young Egidia's heart.
Obscure, unhonoured, heedless, all alone,
Lost to himself, and to the world unknown,
The youth, long, Grampus! climbed thy brows, till fate
Instructs the mind, and spread the arms of state.
Good is thy choice, and what thy sire designed;
Dry, dry these cheeks, and sooth thy troubled mind.
The monarch placid spoke: The maid arose,
Her raptured soul with joys extatic glows.
The veil of woe removed, she brightly shone;
As beamy Phœbus, or the silver moon
Emerging from a cloud, she graceful moves,
And gently trip around the little loves.
Before the priest the blooming couple stand;
Much she desired, but blushed to join the hand.
'Tis done; the youthful hero spreads his arms,
And clasps, enraptured, more than phantomed charms.
Why weeps my daughter, why, my joy, complain?
The youth remains, nor is the noble fled,
Nor shall his noble blood disgrace the marriage-bed.
No horrid herdsman, no indecent hind,
Of clownish manners, or rapacious mind,
First, Cupid, aimed thy soft enamouring dart,
And vanquished all my young Egidia's heart.
Obscure, unhonoured, heedless, all alone,
Lost to himself, and to the world unknown,
The youth, long, Grampus! climbed thy brows, till fate
Instructs the mind, and spread the arms of state.
Good is thy choice, and what thy sire designed;
Dry, dry these cheeks, and sooth thy troubled mind.
The monarch placid spoke: The maid arose,
Her raptured soul with joys extatic glows.
The veil of woe removed, she brightly shone;
As beamy Phœbus, or the silver moon
523
And gently trip around the little loves.
Before the priest the blooming couple stand;
Much she desired, but blushed to join the hand.
'Tis done; the youthful hero spreads his arms,
And clasps, enraptured, more than phantomed charms.
| The poems of Ossian | |