The Poetical Works of John Langhorne ... To which are prefixed, Memoirs of the Author by his Son the Rev. J. T. Langhorne ... In Two Volumes |
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OWEN OF CARRON. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Langhorne |  |
163
OWEN OF CARRON.
[_]
There is something romantic in the story of the following Poem; but the Author has his reasons for believing that there is something likewise authentic. On the simple circumstances of the ancient narrative, from which he first borrowed his idea, those reasons are principally founded, and they are supported by others, with which, in a work of this kind, to trouble his readers would be superfluous.
165
THIS
POEM
IS INSCRIBED TO
A LADY,
WHOSE ELEGANT TASTE,
WHOSE AMIABLE SENSIBILITY,
AND
WHOSE UNAFFECTED FRIENDSHIP,
HAVE LONG CONTRIBUTED
TO
THE PLEASURE AND HAPPINESS
OF
THE AUTHOR.
167
On Carron's side the primrose pale,
Why does it wear a purple hue?
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale,
Why stream your eyes with pity's dew!
Why does it wear a purple hue?
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale,
Why stream your eyes with pity's dew!
'Tis all with gentle Owen's blood
That purple grows the primrose pale;
That pity pours the tender flood
From each fair eye in Marlivale.
That purple grows the primrose pale;
That pity pours the tender flood
From each fair eye in Marlivale.
The evening star sate in his eye,
The sun his golden tresses gave,
The north's pure morn her orient dye,
To him who rests in yonder grave!
The sun his golden tresses gave,
The north's pure morn her orient dye,
To him who rests in yonder grave!
Beneath no high, historic stone,
Tho' nobly born, is Owen laid,
Stretch'd on the green wood's lap alone,
He sleeps beneath the waving shade.
Tho' nobly born, is Owen laid,
Stretch'd on the green wood's lap alone,
He sleeps beneath the waving shade.
There many a flowery race hath sprung,
And fled before the mountain gale,
Since first his simple dirge ye sung;
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale!
And fled before the mountain gale,
Since first his simple dirge ye sung;
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale!
168
Yet still, when May with fragrant feet
Hath wander'd o'er your meads of gold,
That dirge I hear so simply sweet
Far echoed from each evening fold.
Hath wander'd o'er your meads of gold,
That dirge I hear so simply sweet
Far echoed from each evening fold.
II.
'Twas in the pride of William's
day,
When Scotland's honours flourish'd still,
The Moray's earl, with mighty sway,
Bore rule o'er many a Highland hill.
When Scotland's honours flourish'd still,
The Moray's earl, with mighty sway,
Bore rule o'er many a Highland hill.
And far for him their fruitful store
The fairer plains of Carron spread;
In fortune rich, in offspring poor,
An only daughter crown'd his bed.
The fairer plains of Carron spread;
In fortune rich, in offspring poor,
An only daughter crown'd his bed.
Oh! write not poor—the wealth that flows
In waves of gold round India's throne,
All in her shining breast that glows,
To Ellen's charms, were earth and stone.
In waves of gold round India's throne,
All in her shining breast that glows,
To Ellen's charms, were earth and stone.
For her the youth of Scotland sigh'd,
The Frenchman gay, the Spaniard grave,
And smoother Italy apply'd,
And many an English baron brave.
The Frenchman gay, the Spaniard grave,
And smoother Italy apply'd,
And many an English baron brave.
169
In vain by foreign arts assail'd,
No foreign loves her breast beguile,
And England's honest valour fail'd,
Paid with a cold, but courteous smile.
No foreign loves her breast beguile,
And England's honest valour fail'd,
Paid with a cold, but courteous smile.
“Ah! woe to thee, young Nithisdale,
“That o'er thy cheek those roses stray'd,
“Thy breath, the violet of the vale,
“Thy voice, the music of the shade!
“That o'er thy cheek those roses stray'd,
“Thy breath, the violet of the vale,
“Thy voice, the music of the shade!
“Ah! woe to thee, that Ellen's love
“Alone to thy soft tale would yield!
“For soon those gentle arms shall prove
“The conflict of a ruder field.”
“Alone to thy soft tale would yield!
“For soon those gentle arms shall prove
“The conflict of a ruder field.”
'Twas thus a wayward sister spoke,
And cast a rueful glance behind,
As from her dimwood glen she broke,
And mounted on the moaning wind.
And cast a rueful glance behind,
As from her dimwood glen she broke,
And mounted on the moaning wind.
She spoke and vanish'd—more unmov'd
Than Moray's rocks, when storms invest,
The valiant youth by Ellen lov'd
With aught that fear, or fate suggest.
Than Moray's rocks, when storms invest,
The valiant youth by Ellen lov'd
With aught that fear, or fate suggest.
For love, methinks, hath power to raise
The soul beyond a vulgar state;
Th' unconquer'd banners he displays
Controul our fears, and fix our fate.
The soul beyond a vulgar state;
Th' unconquer'd banners he displays
Controul our fears, and fix our fate.
170
III.
'Twas when, on summer's softest eve,
Of clouds that wander'd west away,
Twilight with gentle hand did weave
Her fairy robe of night and day.
Of clouds that wander'd west away,
Twilight with gentle hand did weave
Her fairy robe of night and day.
When all the mountain gales were still,
And the wave slept against the shore,
And the sun, sunk beneath the hill,
Left his last smile on Lemmermore.
And the wave slept against the shore,
And the sun, sunk beneath the hill,
Left his last smile on Lemmermore.
Led by those waking dreams of thought
That warm the young unpractis'd breast,
Her wonted bower sweet Ellen sought,
And Carron murmur'd near, and sooth'd her into rest.
That warm the young unpractis'd breast,
Her wonted bower sweet Ellen sought,
And Carron murmur'd near, and sooth'd her into rest.
There is some kind and courtly sprite
That o'er the realm of Fancy reigns,
Throws sunshine on the mask of night,
And smiles at Slumber's powerless chains;
That o'er the realm of Fancy reigns,
Throws sunshine on the mask of night,
And smiles at Slumber's powerless chains;
'Tis told, and I believe the tale,
At this soft hour that sprite was there,
And spread with fairer flowers the vale,
And fill'd with sweeter sounds the air.
At this soft hour that sprite was there,
And spread with fairer flowers the vale,
And fill'd with sweeter sounds the air.
171
A bower he fram'd (for he could frame
What long might weary mortal wight:
Swift as the lightning's rapid flame
Darts on the unsuspecting sight).
What long might weary mortal wight:
Swift as the lightning's rapid flame
Darts on the unsuspecting sight).
Such bower he fram'd with magic hand,
As well that wizard bard hath wove,
In scenes where fair Armida's wand
Wav'd all the witcheries of love.
As well that wizard bard hath wove,
In scenes where fair Armida's wand
Wav'd all the witcheries of love.
Yet it was wrought in simple shew;
Nor Indian mines nor orient shores
Had lent their glories here to glow,
Or yielded here their shining stores.
Nor Indian mines nor orient shores
Had lent their glories here to glow,
Or yielded here their shining stores.
All round a poplar's trembling arms
The wild-rose wound her damask flower;
The woodbine lent her spicy charms,
That loves to weave the lover's bower.
The wild-rose wound her damask flower;
The woodbine lent her spicy charms,
That loves to weave the lover's bower.
The ash, that courts the mountain-air,
In all her painted blooms array'd,
The wilding's blossom blushing fair,
Combin'd to form the flowery shade.
In all her painted blooms array'd,
The wilding's blossom blushing fair,
Combin'd to form the flowery shade.
With thyme that loves the brown hill's breast,
The cowslip's sweet, reclining head,
The violet of sky-woven vest,
Was all the fairy ground bespread.
The cowslip's sweet, reclining head,
The violet of sky-woven vest,
Was all the fairy ground bespread.
172
But, who is he, whose locks so fair
Adown his manly shoulders flow?
Beside him lies the hunter's spear,
Beside him sleeps the warrior's bow.
Adown his manly shoulders flow?
Beside him lies the hunter's spear,
Beside him sleeps the warrior's bow.
He bends to Ellen—(gentle sprite,
Thy sweet seductive arts forbear)
He courts her arms with fond delight,
And instant vanishes in air.
Thy sweet seductive arts forbear)
He courts her arms with fond delight,
And instant vanishes in air.
V.
Hast thou not found at early dawn
Some soft ideas melt away,
If o'er sweet vale, or flowery lawn,
The sprite of dreams hath bid thee stray?
Some soft ideas melt away,
If o'er sweet vale, or flowery lawn,
The sprite of dreams hath bid thee stray?
Hast thou not some fair object seen,
And, when the fleeting form was past,
Still on thy memory found its mien,
And felt the fond idea last?
And, when the fleeting form was past,
Still on thy memory found its mien,
And felt the fond idea last?
Thou hast—and oft the pictur'd view,
Seen in some vision counted vain,
Hast struck thy wondering eye anew,
And brought the long-lost dream again.
Seen in some vision counted vain,
Hast struck thy wondering eye anew,
And brought the long-lost dream again.
With warrior-bow, with hunter's spear,
With locks adown his shoulder spread,
Young Nithisdale is ranging near—
He's ranging near yon mountain's head.
With locks adown his shoulder spread,
Young Nithisdale is ranging near—
He's ranging near yon mountain's head.
173
Scarce had one pale moon pass'd away,
And fill'd her silver urn again,
When in the devious chase to stray,
Afar from all his woodland train,
And fill'd her silver urn again,
When in the devious chase to stray,
Afar from all his woodland train,
To Carron's banks his fate consign'd,
And, all to shun the fervid hour,
He sought some friendly shade to find,
And found the visionary bower.
And, all to shun the fervid hour,
He sought some friendly shade to find,
And found the visionary bower.
VI.
Led by the golden star of love,
Sweet Ellen took her wonted way,
And in the deep-defending grove
Sought refuge from the fervid day—
Sweet Ellen took her wonted way,
And in the deep-defending grove
Sought refuge from the fervid day—
Oh!—Who is he whose ringlets fair
Disorder'd o'er his green vest flow,
Reclin'd in rest—whose sunny hair
Half hides the fair cheek's ardent glow?
Disorder'd o'er his green vest flow,
Reclin'd in rest—whose sunny hair
Half hides the fair cheek's ardent glow?
'Tis he, that sprite's illusive guest,
(Ah me! that sprites can fate control!)
That lives still imag'd on her breast,
That lives still pictur'd in her soul.
(Ah me! that sprites can fate control!)
That lives still imag'd on her breast,
That lives still pictur'd in her soul.
As when some gentle spirit fled
From earth to breathe elysian air,
And, in the train whom we call dead,
Perceives its long-lov'd partner there;
From earth to breathe elysian air,
And, in the train whom we call dead,
Perceives its long-lov'd partner there;
174
Soft, sudden pleasure rushes o'er,
Resistless, o'er its airy frame,
To find its future fate restore
The object of its former flame.
Resistless, o'er its airy frame,
To find its future fate restore
The object of its former flame.
So Ellen stood—less power to move
Had he, who, bound in slumber's chain,
Seem'd haply, o'er his hills to rove,
And wind his woodland chace again.
Had he, who, bound in slumber's chain,
Seem'd haply, o'er his hills to rove,
And wind his woodland chace again.
She stood, but trembled—mingled fear,
And fond delight and melting love
Seiz'd all her soul; she came not near,
She came not near that fated grove.
And fond delight and melting love
Seiz'd all her soul; she came not near,
She came not near that fated grove.
She strives to fly—from wizzard's wand
As well might powerless captive fly—
The new cropt flower falls from her hand—
Ah! fall not with that flower to die!
As well might powerless captive fly—
The new cropt flower falls from her hand—
Ah! fall not with that flower to die!
VII.
Hast thou not seen some azure gleam
Smile in the morning's orient eye,
And skirt the reddening cloud's soft beam
What time the sun was hasting nigh?
Smile in the morning's orient eye,
And skirt the reddening cloud's soft beam
What time the sun was hasting nigh?
Thou hast—and thou canst fancy well
As any Muse that meets thine ear,
The soul-set eye of Nithisdale,
When wak'd, it fix'd on Ellen near.
As any Muse that meets thine ear,
The soul-set eye of Nithisdale,
When wak'd, it fix'd on Ellen near.
175
Silent they gaz'd—that silence broke;
‘Hail goddess of these groves,’ he cry'd,
‘O let me wear thy gentle yoke!
‘O let me in thy service bide!
‘Hail goddess of these groves,’ he cry'd,
‘O let me wear thy gentle yoke!
‘O let me in thy service bide!
‘For thee I'll climb the mountain steep,
‘Unwearied chase the destin'd prey,
‘For thee I'll pierce the wild-wood deep,
‘And part the sprays that vex thy way,
‘Unwearied chase the destin'd prey,
‘For thee I'll pierce the wild-wood deep,
‘And part the sprays that vex thy way,
‘For thee’—‘O stranger, cease,’ she said,
And swift away, like Daphne, flew,
But Daphne's flight was not delay'd
By aught that to her bosom grew.
And swift away, like Daphne, flew,
But Daphne's flight was not delay'd
By aught that to her bosom grew.
'Twas Atalanta's golden fruit,
The fond idea that confin'd
Fair Ellen's steps, and bless'd his suit,
Who was not far, not far behind.
The fond idea that confin'd
Fair Ellen's steps, and bless'd his suit,
Who was not far, not far behind.
VIII.
O Love! within those golden vales,
Those genial airs where thou wast born,
Where Nature, listening thy soft tales,
Leans on the rosy breast of morn.
Those genial airs where thou wast born,
Where Nature, listening thy soft tales,
Leans on the rosy breast of morn.
Where the sweet Smiles, the Graces dwell,
And tender sighs the heart remove,
In silent eloquence to tell
Thy tale, O soul-subduing Love!
And tender sighs the heart remove,
In silent eloquence to tell
Thy tale, O soul-subduing Love!
176
Ah! wherefore should grim Rage be nigh,
And dark Distrust, with changeful face,
And Jealousy's reverted eye
Be near thy fair, thy favour'd place?
And dark Distrust, with changeful face,
And Jealousy's reverted eye
Be near thy fair, thy favour'd place?
IX.
Earl Barnard was of high degree,
And lord of many a lowland hind,
And long for Ellen love had he,
Had love, but not of gentle kind.
And lord of many a lowland hind,
And long for Ellen love had he,
Had love, but not of gentle kind.
From Moray's halls her absent hour
He watch'd with all a miser's care;
The wide domain, the princely dower
Made Ellen more than Ellen fair.
He watch'd with all a miser's care;
The wide domain, the princely dower
Made Ellen more than Ellen fair.
Ah wretch! to think the liberal soul
May thus with fair affection part!
Though Lothian's vales thy sway controul,
Know, Lothian is not worth one heart.
May thus with fair affection part!
Though Lothian's vales thy sway controul,
Know, Lothian is not worth one heart.
Studious he marks her absent hour,
And, winding far where Carron flows,
Sudden he sees the fated bower,
And red rage on his dark brow glows.
And, winding far where Carron flows,
Sudden he sees the fated bower,
And red rage on his dark brow glows.
For who is he?—'Tis Nithisdale!
And that fair form with arm reclin'd
On his?—'Tis Ellen of the vale,
'Tis she (O powers of vengeance!) kind.
And that fair form with arm reclin'd
On his?—'Tis Ellen of the vale,
'Tis she (O powers of vengeance!) kind.
177
Should he that vengeance swift pursue?
No—that would all his hopes destroy;
Moray would vanish from his view,
And rob him of a miser's joy.
No—that would all his hopes destroy;
Moray would vanish from his view,
And rob him of a miser's joy.
Unseen to Moray's halls he hies—
He calls his slaves, his ruffian band,
And, ‘Haste to yonder groves,’ he cries,
‘And ambush'd lie by Carron's strand.
He calls his slaves, his ruffian band,
And, ‘Haste to yonder groves,’ he cries,
‘And ambush'd lie by Carron's strand.
‘What time ye mark from bower or glen
‘A gentle lady take her way,
‘To distance due, and far from ken,
‘Allow her length of time to stray.
‘A gentle lady take her way,
‘To distance due, and far from ken,
‘Allow her length of time to stray.
‘Then ransack straight that range of groves.—
‘With hunter's spear, and vest of green,
‘If chance, a rosy stripling roves,—
‘Ye well can aim your arrows keen.’
‘With hunter's spear, and vest of green,
‘If chance, a rosy stripling roves,—
‘Ye well can aim your arrows keen.’
And now the ruffian slaves are nigh,
And Ellen takes her homeward way:
Though stay'd by many a tender sigh,
She can no longer, longer stay.
And Ellen takes her homeward way:
Though stay'd by many a tender sigh,
She can no longer, longer stay.
Pensive, against yon poplar pale
The lover leans his gentle heart,
Revolving many a tender tale,
And wondering still how they could part.
The lover leans his gentle heart,
Revolving many a tender tale,
And wondering still how they could part.
178
Three arrows pierc'd the desert air,
Ere yet his tender dreams depart;
And one struck deep his forehead fair,
And one went through his gentle heart.
Ere yet his tender dreams depart;
And one struck deep his forehead fair,
And one went through his gentle heart.
Love's waking dream is lost in sleep—
He lies beneath yon poplar pale;
Ah! could we marvel ye should weep;
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale!
He lies beneath yon poplar pale;
Ah! could we marvel ye should weep;
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale!
X.
When all the mountain gales were still,
And the wave slept against the shore,
And the sun, sunk beneath the hill,
Left his last smile on Lemmermore;
And the wave slept against the shore,
And the sun, sunk beneath the hill,
Left his last smile on Lemmermore;
Sweet Ellen takes her wonted way
Along the fairy-featur'd vale:
Brogjt o'er his wave does Carron play,
And soon she'll meet her Nithisdale.
Along the fairy-featur'd vale:
Brogjt o'er his wave does Carron play,
And soon she'll meet her Nithisdale.
She'll meet him soon—for at her sight
Swift as the mountain deer he sped;
The evening shades will sink in night,—
Where art thou, loitering lover, fled?
Swift as the mountain deer he sped;
The evening shades will sink in night,—
Where art thou, loitering lover, fled?
O! she will chide thy trifling stay,
E'en now the soft reproach she frames:
‘Can lovers brook such long delay?
‘Lovers that boast of ardent flames!’
E'en now the soft reproach she frames:
‘Can lovers brook such long delay?
‘Lovers that boast of ardent flames!’
179
He comes not—weary with the chace,
Soft slumber o'er his eyelids throws
Her veil—we'll steal one dear embrace,
We'll gently steal on his repose.
Soft slumber o'er his eyelids throws
Her veil—we'll steal one dear embrace,
We'll gently steal on his repose.
This is the bower—we'll softly tread—
He sleeps beneath yon poplar pale—
Lover, if e'er thy heart has bled,
Thy heart will far forego my tale!
He sleeps beneath yon poplar pale—
Lover, if e'er thy heart has bled,
Thy heart will far forego my tale!
XI.
Ellen is not in princely bower,
She's not in Moray's splendid train;
Their mistress dear, at midnight hour,
Her weeping maidens seek in vain.
She's not in Moray's splendid train;
Their mistress dear, at midnight hour,
Her weeping maidens seek in vain.
Her pillow swells not deep with down;
For her no balms their sweets exhale:
Her limbs are on the pale turf thrown,
Press'd by her lovely cheek as pale.
For her no balms their sweets exhale:
Her limbs are on the pale turf thrown,
Press'd by her lovely cheek as pale.
On that fair cheek, that flowing hair,
The broom its yellow leaf hath shed,
And the chill mountain's early air
Blows wildly o'er her beauteous head.
The broom its yellow leaf hath shed,
And the chill mountain's early air
Blows wildly o'er her beauteous head.
As the soft star of orient day,
When clouds involve his rosy light,
Darts thro' the gloom a transient ray,
And leaves the world once more to night;
When clouds involve his rosy light,
Darts thro' the gloom a transient ray,
And leaves the world once more to night;
180
Returning life illumes her eye,
And slow its languid orb unfolds—
What are those bloody arrows nigh?
Sure, bloody arrows she beholds!
And slow its languid orb unfolds—
What are those bloody arrows nigh?
Sure, bloody arrows she beholds!
What was that form so ghastly pale,
That low beneath the poplar lay?—
‘'Twas some poor youth—Ah Nithisdale!’
She said, and silent sunk away.
That low beneath the poplar lay?—
‘'Twas some poor youth—Ah Nithisdale!’
She said, and silent sunk away.
XII.
The morn is on the mountains spread,
The wood-lark trills his liquid strain—
Can morn's sweet music rouse the dead?
Give the set eye its soul again?
The wood-lark trills his liquid strain—
Can morn's sweet music rouse the dead?
Give the set eye its soul again?
A shepherd of that gentler mind
Which Nature not profusely yields,
Seeks in these lonely shades to find
Some wanderer from his little fields.
Which Nature not profusely yields,
Seeks in these lonely shades to find
Some wanderer from his little fields.
Aghast he stands—and simple fear
O'er all his paly visage glides—
‘Ah me! what means this misery here!
‘What fate this lady fair betides?’
O'er all his paly visage glides—
‘Ah me! what means this misery here!
‘What fate this lady fair betides?’
He bears her to his friendly home,
When life, he finds, has but retir'd;—
With haste he frames the lover's tomb,
For his is quite, is quite expir'd!
When life, he finds, has but retir'd;—
With haste he frames the lover's tomb,
For his is quite, is quite expir'd!
181
XIII.
‘O hide me in thy humble bower,’
Returning late to life she said;
‘I'll bind thy crook with many a flower;
‘With many a rosy wreath thy head.
Returning late to life she said;
‘I'll bind thy crook with many a flower;
‘With many a rosy wreath thy head.
‘Good shepherd, haste to yonder grove,
‘And, if my love asleep is laid,
‘Oh! wake him not; but softly move
‘Some pillow to that gentle head.
‘And, if my love asleep is laid,
‘Oh! wake him not; but softly move
‘Some pillow to that gentle head.
‘Sure, thou wilt know him, shepherd swain,
‘Thou know'st the sun rise o'er the sea—
‘But oh! no lamb in all thy train
‘Was e'er so mild, so mild as he.’
‘Thou know'st the sun rise o'er the sea—
‘But oh! no lamb in all thy train
‘Was e'er so mild, so mild as he.’
‘His head is on the wood-moss laid;
‘I did not wake his slumber deep—
‘Sweet sings the redbreast o'er the shade—
‘Why, gentle lady, would you weep?’
‘I did not wake his slumber deep—
‘Sweet sings the redbreast o'er the shade—
‘Why, gentle lady, would you weep?’
As flowers that fade in burning day,
At evening find the dew-drop dear,
But fiercer feel the noon-tide ray,
When soften'd by the nightly tear;
At evening find the dew-drop dear,
But fiercer feel the noon-tide ray,
When soften'd by the nightly tear;
Returning in the flowing tear,
This lovely flower, more sweet than they,
Found her fair soul, and wandering near,
The stranger, Reason, cross'd her way.
This lovely flower, more sweet than they,
Found her fair soul, and wandering near,
The stranger, Reason, cross'd her way.
182
Found her fair soul—Ah! so to find
Was but more dreadful grief to know!
Ah! sure, the privilege of mind
Can not be worth the wish of woe.
Was but more dreadful grief to know!
Ah! sure, the privilege of mind
Can not be worth the wish of woe.
XIV.
On melancholy's silent urn
A softer shade of sorrow falls,
But Ellen can no more return,
No more return to Moray's halls.
A softer shade of sorrow falls,
But Ellen can no more return,
No more return to Moray's halls.
Beneath the low and lonely shade
The slow-consuming hour she'll weep,
Till Nature seeks her last-left aid,
In the sad, sombrous arms of sleep.
The slow-consuming hour she'll weep,
Till Nature seeks her last-left aid,
In the sad, sombrous arms of sleep.
‘These jewels, all unmeet for me,
‘Shalt thou,’ she said, ‘good shepherd, take;
‘These gems will purchase gold for thee,
‘And these be thine for Ellen's sake.
‘Shalt thou,’ she said, ‘good shepherd, take;
‘These gems will purchase gold for thee,
‘And these be thine for Ellen's sake.
‘So fail thou not, at eve and morn,
‘The rosemary's pale bough to bring—
‘Thou know'st where I was found forlorn—
‘Where thou hast heard the redbreast sing.
‘The rosemary's pale bough to bring—
‘Thou know'st where I was found forlorn—
‘Where thou hast heard the redbreast sing.
‘Heedful I'll tend thy flocks the while,
‘Or aid thy shepherdess's care,
‘For I will share her humble toil,
‘And I her friendly roof will share.’
‘Or aid thy shepherdess's care,
‘For I will share her humble toil,
‘And I her friendly roof will share.’
183
XV.
And now two longsome years are past
In luxury of lonely pain—
The lovely mourner, found at last,
To Moray's halls is borne again.
In luxury of lonely pain—
The lovely mourner, found at last,
To Moray's halls is borne again.
Yet has she left one object dear,
That wears love's sunny eye of joy—
Is Nithisdale reviving here?
Or is it but a shepherd's boy?
That wears love's sunny eye of joy—
Is Nithisdale reviving here?
Or is it but a shepherd's boy?
By Carron's side, a shepherd's boy,
He binds his vale-flowers with the reed;
He wears love's sunny eye of joy,
And birth he little seems to heed.
He binds his vale-flowers with the reed;
He wears love's sunny eye of joy,
And birth he little seems to heed.
XVI.
But ah! no more his infant sleep
Closes beneath a mother's smile,
Who, only when it clos'd, would weep,
And yield to tender woe the while.
Closes beneath a mother's smile,
Who, only when it clos'd, would weep,
And yield to tender woe the while.
No more, with fond attention dear,
She seeks th' unspoken wish to find;
No more shall she, with pleasure's tear,
See the soul waxing into mind.
She seeks th' unspoken wish to find;
No more shall she, with pleasure's tear,
See the soul waxing into mind.
XVII.
Does Nature bear a tyrant's breast?
Is she the friend of stern controul?
Wears she the despot's purple vest?
Or fetters she the free-born soul?
Is she the friend of stern controul?
Wears she the despot's purple vest?
Or fetters she the free-born soul?
184
Where, worst of tyrants, is thy claim
In chains thy children's breasts to bind?
Gav'st thou the Promethéan flame?
The incommunicable mind?
In chains thy children's breasts to bind?
Gav'st thou the Promethéan flame?
The incommunicable mind?
Thy offspring are great Nature's,—free,
And of her fair dominion heirs;
Each privilege she gives to thee;
Know, that each privilege is theirs.
And of her fair dominion heirs;
Each privilege she gives to thee;
Know, that each privilege is theirs.
They have thy feature, wear thine eye,
Perhaps some feelings of thy heart;
And wilt thou their lov'd hearts deny
To act their fair, their proper part?
Perhaps some feelings of thy heart;
And wilt thou their lov'd hearts deny
To act their fair, their proper part?
XVIII.
The lord of Lothian's fertile vale,
Ill-fated Ellen, claims thy hand;
Thou know'st not that thy Nithisdale
Was low laid by his ruffian-band.
Ill-fated Ellen, claims thy hand;
Thou know'st not that thy Nithisdale
Was low laid by his ruffian-band.
And Moray, with unfather'd eyes,
Fix'd on fair Lothian's fertile dale,
Attends his human sacrifice,
Without the Grecian painter's veil.
Fix'd on fair Lothian's fertile dale,
Attends his human sacrifice,
Without the Grecian painter's veil.
O married Love! thy bard shall own,
Where two congenial souls unite,
Thy golden chain inlaid with down,
Thy lamp with Heaven's own splendor bright.
Where two congenial souls unite,
Thy golden chain inlaid with down,
Thy lamp with Heaven's own splendor bright.
185
But if no radiant star of love,
O Hymen! smile on thy fair rite,
Thy chain a wretched weight shall prove,
Thy lamp a sad sepulchral light.
O Hymen! smile on thy fair rite,
Thy chain a wretched weight shall prove,
Thy lamp a sad sepulchral light.
XIX.
And now has Time's slow wandering wing
Borne many a year unmark'd with speed—
Where is the boy by Carron's spring,
Who bound his vale-flowers with the reed?
Borne many a year unmark'd with speed—
Where is the boy by Carron's spring,
Who bound his vale-flowers with the reed?
Ah me! those flowers he binds no more;
No early charm returns again;
The parent, Nature keeps in store
Her best joys for her little train.
No early charm returns again;
The parent, Nature keeps in store
Her best joys for her little train.
No longer heed the sun-beam bright
That plays on Carron's breast he can,
Reason has lent her quivering light,
And shewn the chequer'd field of man.
That plays on Carron's breast he can,
Reason has lent her quivering light,
And shewn the chequer'd field of man.
XX.
As the first human heir of earth
With pensive eye himself survey'd,
And, all unconscious of his birth,
Sate thoughtful oft in Eden's shade;
With pensive eye himself survey'd,
And, all unconscious of his birth,
Sate thoughtful oft in Eden's shade;
In pensive thought so Owen stray'd
Wild Carron's lonely woods among,
And once, within their greenest glade,
He fondly fram'd this simple song:
Wild Carron's lonely woods among,
And once, within their greenest glade,
He fondly fram'd this simple song:
186
XXI.
Why is this crook adorn'd with gold?
Why am I tales of ladies told?
Why does no labour me employ,
If I am but a shepherd's boy?
Why am I tales of ladies told?
Why does no labour me employ,
If I am but a shepherd's boy?
A silken vest like mine so green
In shepherd's hut I have not seen—
Why should I in such vesture joy,
If I am but a shepherd's boy?
In shepherd's hut I have not seen—
Why should I in such vesture joy,
If I am but a shepherd's boy?
I know it is no shepherd's art
His written meaning to impart—
They teach me, sure, an idle toy,
If I am but a shepherd's boy.
His written meaning to impart—
They teach me, sure, an idle toy,
If I am but a shepherd's boy.
This bracelet bright that binds my arm—
It could not come from shepherd's farm;
It only would that arm annoy,
If I were but a shepherd's boy.
It could not come from shepherd's farm;
It only would that arm annoy,
If I were but a shepherd's boy.
And, O thou silent picture fair,
That lov'st to smile upon me there,
O say, and fill my heart with joy,
That I am not a shepherd's boy.
That lov'st to smile upon me there,
O say, and fill my heart with joy,
That I am not a shepherd's boy.
XXII.
Ah lovely youth! thy tender lay
May not thy gentle life prolong:
See'st thou yon nightingale a prey?
The fierce hawk hovering o'er his song?
May not thy gentle life prolong:
See'st thou yon nightingale a prey?
The fierce hawk hovering o'er his song?
187
His little heart is large with love:
He sweetly hails his evening star,
And fate's more pointed arrows move,
Insidious, from his eye afar.
He sweetly hails his evening star,
And fate's more pointed arrows move,
Insidious, from his eye afar.
XXIII.
The shepherdess, whose kindly care
Had watch'd o'er Owen's infant breath,
Must now their silent mansions share,
Whom time leads calmly down to death.
Had watch'd o'er Owen's infant breath,
Must now their silent mansions share,
Whom time leads calmly down to death.
‘O tell me, parent if thou art,
‘What is this lovely picture dear?
‘Why wounds its mournful eye my heart,
‘Why flows from mine th' unbidden tear?
‘What is this lovely picture dear?
‘Why wounds its mournful eye my heart,
‘Why flows from mine th' unbidden tear?
‘Ah! youth! to leave thee loth am I,
‘Tho' I be not thy parent dear;
‘And would'st thou wish, or ere I die,
‘The story of thy birth to hear?
‘Tho' I be not thy parent dear;
‘And would'st thou wish, or ere I die,
‘The story of thy birth to hear?
‘But it will make thee much bewail,
‘And it will make thy fair eye swell—
She said, and told the woesome tale,
As sooth as shepherdess might tell.
‘And it will make thy fair eye swell—
She said, and told the woesome tale,
As sooth as shepherdess might tell.
XXIV.
The heart, that sorrow doom'd to share,
Has worn the frequent seal of woe,
Its sad impressions learns to bear,
And finds full oft, its ruin slow.
Has worn the frequent seal of woe,
Its sad impressions learns to bear,
And finds full oft, its ruin slow.
188
But when that seal is first imprest,
When the young heart its pain shall try,
From the soft, yielding, trembling breast,
Oft seems the startled soul to fly.
When the young heart its pain shall try,
From the soft, yielding, trembling breast,
Oft seems the startled soul to fly.
Yet fled not Owen's—wild amaze
In paleness cloath'd, and lifted hands,
And horror's dread, unmeaning gaze,
Mark the poor statue, as it stands.
In paleness cloath'd, and lifted hands,
And horror's dread, unmeaning gaze,
Mark the poor statue, as it stands.
The simple guardian of his life
Look'd wistful for the tear to glide;
But, when she saw his tearless strife,
Silent, she lent him one,—and died.
Look'd wistful for the tear to glide;
But, when she saw his tearless strife,
Silent, she lent him one,—and died.
XXV.
‘No, I am not a shepherd's boy,’
Awaking from his dream, he said,
‘Ah where is now the promis'd joy
‘Of this?—for ever, ever fled!
Awaking from his dream, he said,
‘Ah where is now the promis'd joy
‘Of this?—for ever, ever fled!
‘O picture dear!—for her lov'd sake
‘How fondly could my heart bewail!
‘My friendly shepherdess, O wake,
‘And tell me more of this sad tale.
‘How fondly could my heart bewail!
‘My friendly shepherdess, O wake,
‘And tell me more of this sad tale.
‘O tell me more of this sad tale—
‘No; thou enjoy thy gentle sleep!
‘And I will go to Lothian's vale,
‘And more than all her waters weep.’
‘No; thou enjoy thy gentle sleep!
‘And I will go to Lothian's vale,
‘And more than all her waters weep.’
189
XXVI.
Owen to Lothian's vale is fled—
Earl Barnard's lofty towers appear—
‘O! art thou there,’ the full heart said,
‘O! art thou there, my parent dear?’
Earl Barnard's lofty towers appear—
‘O! art thou there,’ the full heart said,
‘O! art thou there, my parent dear?’
Yes, she is there: from idle state
Oft has she stole her hour to weep;
Think how she ‘by thy cradle sate,’
And how she ‘fondly saw thee sleep.’
Oft has she stole her hour to weep;
Think how she ‘by thy cradle sate,’
And how she ‘fondly saw thee sleep.’
Now tries his trembling hand to frame
Full many a tender line of love;
And still he blots the parent's name,
For that, he fears, might fatal prove.
Full many a tender line of love;
And still he blots the parent's name,
For that, he fears, might fatal prove.
XXVII.
O'er a fair fountain's smiling side
Reclin'd a dim tower, clad with moss,
Where every bird was wont to bide,
That languish'd for its partner's loss.
Reclin'd a dim tower, clad with moss,
Where every bird was wont to bide,
That languish'd for its partner's loss.
This scene he chose, this scene assign'd
A parent's first embrace to wait,
And many a soft fear fill'd his mind,
Anxious for his fond letter's fate.
A parent's first embrace to wait,
And many a soft fear fill'd his mind,
Anxious for his fond letter's fate.
190
The hand that bore those lines of love,
The well-informing bracelet bore—
Ah! may they not unprosperous prove!
Ah! safely pass yon dangerous door!
The well-informing bracelet bore—
Ah! may they not unprosperous prove!
Ah! safely pass yon dangerous door!
XXVIII.
‘She comes not;—can she then delay?’
Cried the fair youth, and dropt a tear—
‘Whatever filial love could say,
‘To her I said, and call'd her dear.
Cried the fair youth, and dropt a tear—
‘Whatever filial love could say,
‘To her I said, and call'd her dear.
‘She comes—Oh! no—encircled round
‘'Tis some rude chief with many a spear.
‘My hapless tale that earl has found—
‘Ah me! my heart!—for her I fear.’
‘'Tis some rude chief with many a spear.
‘My hapless tale that earl has found—
‘Ah me! my heart!—for her I fear.’
His tender tale that earl had read,
Or ere it reach'd his lady's eye,
His dark brow wears a cloud of red,
In rage he deems a rival nigh.
Or ere it reach'd his lady's eye,
His dark brow wears a cloud of red,
In rage he deems a rival nigh.
XXIX.
'Tis o'er—those locks that wav'd in gold,
That wav'd adown those cheeks so fair,
Wreath'd in the gloomy tyrant's hold,
Hang from the sever'd head in air;
That wav'd adown those cheeks so fair,
Wreath'd in the gloomy tyrant's hold,
Hang from the sever'd head in air;
That streaming head he joys to bear
In horrid guise to Lothian's halls;
Bids his grim ruffians place it there,
Erect upon the frowning walls.
In horrid guise to Lothian's halls;
Bids his grim ruffians place it there,
Erect upon the frowning walls.
191
The fatal tokens forth he drew—
‘Know'st thou these—Ellen of the vale?’
The pictur'd bracelet soon she knew,
And soon her lovely cheek grew pale.—
‘Know'st thou these—Ellen of the vale?’
The pictur'd bracelet soon she knew,
And soon her lovely cheek grew pale.—
The trembling victim straight he led,
Ere yet her soul's first fear was o'er:
He pointed to the ghastly head—
She saw—and sunk, to rise no more.
Ere yet her soul's first fear was o'er:
He pointed to the ghastly head—
She saw—and sunk, to rise no more.
| The Poetical Works of John Langhorne | |