 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
62
THE HIGHLANDER.
STRANGER.
O, who is he so young and stern,
That strays amid the mountain-fern,
With step majestic, wild, and free,
O, tell me, Minstrel, who is he?
That strays amid the mountain-fern,
With step majestic, wild, and free,
O, tell me, Minstrel, who is he?
MINSTREL.
Yes! free his step as is his soul,
And stern his youthful eyeballs roll;
He wanders here like one exil'd,
For, Stranger, he is Moray's child.
And stern his youthful eyeballs roll;
He wanders here like one exil'd,
For, Stranger, he is Moray's child.
63
Hast thou not heard how Moray's hand
Grasped highland blade 'gainst Cumberland,
And how in honour's firmest field,
He dauntless bore the highland shield?
Grasped highland blade 'gainst Cumberland,
And how in honour's firmest field,
He dauntless bore the highland shield?
That day of horror need I tell,
There ill-starred Albyn fought and fell;
Her star that rose in glory bright,
Her star of glory set in night.
There ill-starred Albyn fought and fell;
Her star that rose in glory bright,
Her star of glory set in night.
Hence does that child with eager tread,
Seek the tall mountain's ferny head,
And looking round with eye of fire,
Demands from southern plains his sire.
Seek the tall mountain's ferny head,
And looking round with eye of fire,
Demands from southern plains his sire.
For oft his mother's eye of pride
Swells with the tear she strives to hide;
Then, when her cheek begins to burn,
She bids him seek his sire's return.
Swells with the tear she strives to hide;
Then, when her cheek begins to burn,
She bids him seek his sire's return.
64
In vain,—the curling mist afar
Mocks his young eye, then melts in air;
In every cloud a form he sees,
And hears a voice in every breeze.
Mocks his young eye, then melts in air;
In every cloud a form he sees,
And hears a voice in every breeze.
And oft my aged steps he leads,
He bids me sing his father's deeds,
Then asks me, why the martial strain,
Breathes nought but sorrow, care, and pain.
He bids me sing his father's deeds,
Then asks me, why the martial strain,
Breathes nought but sorrow, care, and pain.
Last night, when all was dark around,
I raised my wild harp's swelling sound;
The northern blast blew loud and shrill,
The moon sunk red behind the hill.
I raised my wild harp's swelling sound;
The northern blast blew loud and shrill,
The moon sunk red behind the hill.
Through the thick darkness of the storm,
I saw a dim-enlightened form;
His tartans waving through the gloom,
And red the feathers of his plume.
I saw a dim-enlightened form;
His tartans waving through the gloom,
And red the feathers of his plume.
65
The chequered plaid the warrior wore,
Seemed newly dyed with rushing gore;
His bleeding bosom showed the wound
That stretched him lifeless on the ground.
Seemed newly dyed with rushing gore;
His bleeding bosom showed the wound
That stretched him lifeless on the ground.
Majestic was his stately brow,
Though marked with pensive care and woe;
And full upon his starting child,
He fixed his dark eye, gleaming wild.
Though marked with pensive care and woe;
And full upon his starting child,
He fixed his dark eye, gleaming wild.
Thrice strove the mountain chief to speak,
Thrice lowered in gloom his haughty cheek;
At length with quivering lip and pale,
He breathed these accents on the gale.
Thrice lowered in gloom his haughty cheek;
At length with quivering lip and pale,
He breathed these accents on the gale.
“Young chieftain of thy father's clan,
“Thy youthful soul with fury man;
“Revenge upon the foeman proud!
“Thy sire lies mantled in his shroud!
“Thy youthful soul with fury man;
“Revenge upon the foeman proud!
“Thy sire lies mantled in his shroud!
66
“And all his clan on southern plains,
“Or fall, or wear the victor's chains;
“In dust the highland plume is laid,
“And shivered is the highland blade.
“Or fall, or wear the victor's chains;
“In dust the highland plume is laid,
“And shivered is the highland blade.
“By all the wounds the fallen bear,
“By all the chains the living wear,
“By Albyn's wrongs, by Albyn's woes,
“Revenge upon her haughty foes!”
“By all the chains the living wear,
“By Albyn's wrongs, by Albyn's woes,
“Revenge upon her haughty foes!”
Away with stately step he pass'd,
And mingled with the roaring blast;—
The noble boy, in silent ire,
Heard the wild mandate of his sire;
And mingled with the roaring blast;—
The noble boy, in silent ire,
Heard the wild mandate of his sire;
And fierce his wrathful brow he bent,
For conscious thought of high descent,
Flashed on his youthful spirit proud,
Like light'ning on a stormy cloud.
For conscious thought of high descent,
Flashed on his youthful spirit proud,
Like light'ning on a stormy cloud.
67
And now in plaid and plume array'd,
He tries in air his highland blade,
And wanders on the mountains wild,
Remembering he is Moray's child.
He tries in air his highland blade,
And wanders on the mountains wild,
Remembering he is Moray's child.
| Poems by Three Friends | |