University of Virginia Library


51

OSSIAN's GRAVE.

Yonder's the lonely Isle
Where the Bard of Cona lies;
See! the sun-beams sweetly smile,
Where the three gray stones arise,
From where the purple heather blossoms wave,
The streams that kiss the mound,
Give a soft, a murmuring sound,
And the spring-breeze sighs around
Ossian's grave.
Now the Eagle's ceased his call,
All around is calm and still,
Save yon distant waterfal
That dashes down the hill;
The shades of evening now begin to close:
But Glencoe's sweet at night,
Where the Heath-Cock veils his sight,
And, wearied with his flight,
Seeks repose.

52

The yellow moon-beams play
Far on the distant hill;
On the Isle's one lovely ray,
Where all around's so still,
I hear the thistle on the green mound wave,
O! sweet is it to rove,
Thro' flowery dale or grove,
But, above them all, I love
Ossian's grave.