University of Virginia Library

“Upon this Harp, but known to me,
“Such mystic characters I see,
“As ope the fountains of mine eyes,
“For one who owned its melodies.
“While in the North our travels were
“Rejoicing over Nature there,
“I, and my Brother—Oh, my soul!
“These swelling bursts of grief controul—
“We made us to a Minstrel dear,
“And loved his native strains to hear,
“And gladly on his Harp he told
“The wonders of the days of old,—
“But Friendship, if its arm could save
“Age from the all-remorseless grave,
“Or lay together friends in sleep,
“Had not let me survive to weep!
“While yet the last breath lingered o'er
“His paly lip, to be no more,
“This boon of powerful harmony.
“His Harp beloved, he gave to me,
“With those same withered hands, which had
“Erst swept its strings divinely sad,
“Pensively pleasing, sweetly wild,
“And energetically mild,
“As oft he sung his tuneful lore—
“But now those strings may sweep no more!
“Of Morven was the Bard, and he
“Descended from that Minstrelsy
“Which owned in times long past as king
“Ossian, of heroes skilled to sing.
“And to one of those Sons of Song
“Did this old lofty harp belong,
“And often cheered the King of Men
“With tales of his forefathers then,
“And called the Spirits of the Brave
“From the bright worlds beyond the grave,
“In lucid clouds, around the strain,
“To listen to their fame again.
“Nor had it in this Minstrel's hand,
“Who gave it me, much less command:
“And when I think of him, my heart
“Will heave with sighs, my tears will start,
“But which I wish not to control,
“For they but melt to sooth the soul.
“And for his sake this Harp is dear;—
“E'en in those whirlpools of despair
“Which part the Celt's wild mountain land
“From savage Lochlin's adverse strand,
“Where sank the Brother of my heart,
“From this fond boon I would not part,
“But wed it 'mid the raging deep—
“And for his sake will ever keep.”