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THE APOTHEOSIS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.


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THE APOTHEOSIS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

I

Ho! thou upon the upland, thou
On Eildon's haunted wild on high,
What glory lights thy upward brow—
What vision draws thy wondering eye?
The sun shines cloudless in the sky,
Thy forehead shews as bright a sheen.—
What pageant see'st thou passing by—
Rapt shepherd, speak! what hast thou seen?

II

“As radiant from the north ascends
The dayless morning's mystic light,
When stars grow dim and moonlight ends,
Rise phantom forms that charm my sight,
Like fires that gleam athwart the night,
While all, as if his race were run,
Dim, shrunk, and faded, sickly white,
Sits on his throne, the dazzled sun.

III

“There following comes, in wavering flame,
Dejected grief, and guilt sublime;
The blush that bears no tint of shame,
Th' untainting tale that tells of crime;

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The seneschal of feudal time,
The crested pride of chivalry,
The faërys' prank—the witches' rhyme,
The hints and gleams of prophecy.

IV

“They mount: the progeny of thought,
The minstrel grave, the goblin gay;
The ghost, of mist and moonlight wrought;
The bearded monk, the hermit gray;
And here the host, and there the fray,
As in Sir Godfrey's vision shown,
And bannered chiefs, in proud array
Refulgent, from the battle won.

V

“Lo! mingling sprites of every hue,
The maiden's dream, the widow's fright;
Green vestured elves, with eyes of dew,
And things of joy, with locks of light;
Whate'er is fair, and good, and bright,
To universal nature true,
As heralds of immortal right,
Arise to claim the poet's due.”—

VI

Thus to my loud, impassioned call,
The raptured swain ecstatic spoke,
While dim and dark a funeral pall
Unrolling, as the silent smoke,
His high-entranced vision broke,
And glooming o'er the Tweed below,
As lowering clouds that storms invoke,
Was seen the solemn pomp of woe.

VII

On hill and dale, and storied moor,
Lamentings sadden all the air,
And palace dome, and cottage door,
Alike the general sorrow share;

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But ah, how vain is praise or prayer,
The spell that bade the phantoms rise
Is broken: their creator there—
The master wizard—lowly lies!