The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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DONALD'S GRAVE. |
 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
174
DONALD'S GRAVE.
SCENE, NEAR GLENCOE.
Within the dark bosom of yon lonely glen,
There sleeps my young Donald, the flower of his clan,
In death's silent slumbers, where lowly he's laid;
The green sod his target, the cold clay his plaid.
There sleeps my young Donald, the flower of his clan,
In death's silent slumbers, where lowly he's laid;
The green sod his target, the cold clay his plaid.
How still lies the heart that to me aye beat true;
And dim now that eye, once a love-speaking blue;
Now withered those soft lips—the roses are flown,
And clotted those locks of a dark bushy brown.
And dim now that eye, once a love-speaking blue;
Now withered those soft lips—the roses are flown,
And clotted those locks of a dark bushy brown.
Last night, when the stars from yon dun sky had fled,
And my red stiffened eyes had no more tears to shed,
While the blast thro' the broad oak did howl round my head,
Like the bursting of sorrow, or songs for the dead;
And my red stiffened eyes had no more tears to shed,
While the blast thro' the broad oak did howl round my head,
Like the bursting of sorrow, or songs for the dead;
When weary with watching, methought he drew near,
And half of his fair form through blood did appear:
Though pale was his aspect, his manner was meek,
And his locked hollow jaw seemed to open and speak:—
And half of his fair form through blood did appear:
Though pale was his aspect, his manner was meek,
And his locked hollow jaw seemed to open and speak:—
“Why mourns my dear Flora along the lone heath?
Can the warm tears of sorrow retrieve me from death?
But the tie's ever binding, although we must part,
And love shall find room still within this cold heart.
Can the warm tears of sorrow retrieve me from death?
But the tie's ever binding, although we must part,
And love shall find room still within this cold heart.
175
“How soft rests the hero who dies for the cause
Of honour and freedom, his country and laws:
The bard's bursting song his achievements shall save,
And chieftains shall sigh as they stalk by his grave.
Of honour and freedom, his country and laws:
The bard's bursting song his achievements shall save,
And chieftains shall sigh as they stalk by his grave.
“We feared not their numbers, that darkened the plain:
They proffered us friendship—their offers were ta'en;
But the cold-blooded monsters no ties could engage—
In slumbers they slew whom they feared to enrage.
They proffered us friendship—their offers were ta'en;
But the cold-blooded monsters no ties could engage—
In slumbers they slew whom they feared to enrage.
“But the miscreant minion of treacherous power,
His fame and false glory shall fall in an hour:
No sweet-sounding requiem his spirit may claim,
And forgetfulness leave but the dregs of a name.
His fame and false glory shall fall in an hour:
No sweet-sounding requiem his spirit may claim,
And forgetfulness leave but the dregs of a name.
“Then cease thee, my Flora, oh! cease thee to weep;
My light passing spirit thou marrest of sleep:
Thrice three months are passed since thou should'st been my bride,
But soon shalt thou stretch thee along by my side.”
My light passing spirit thou marrest of sleep:
Thrice three months are passed since thou should'st been my bride,
But soon shalt thou stretch thee along by my side.”
But lo! I awoke, and the lark was on high;
The sun his gold tresses had spread o'er the sky;
Yet still the dark vision this truth did recall,
That the lovely soon fade, and the mighty must fall.
The sun his gold tresses had spread o'er the sky;
Yet still the dark vision this truth did recall,
That the lovely soon fade, and the mighty must fall.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |