With which the rivers, lakes, and seas abound,
That lave your glens, and hills sublime surround.
Thus, while secure from civil broil or feud,
The Patriarchal Age will be renew'd.
V. Peace to the manes of each dread Foresire!
Who scorn'd the yoke of Rome, and Roman fire,
Beyond the hoary Grampian's mighty mound
Fixt his abode, and independence found!
-Ere yet the Scythian wild, rude Saxon, Dane,
Assumed the rights of conquest, but in vain,—
In Cambria, Mona, Eirin, and these isles,
A kindred people, CELTE, CLIO stiles, (19)
Fix'd their abiding, there well pleas'd to find
That Peace, Truth, Justice, Order, men would bind.
Their true descendants knew not how to bow
Obsequious to a haughty tyrant's brow,
And leaving Luxury's voluptuous joys,
Of Liberty they made a glorious choice!
Preferring Freedom thus, and Nature grand,
They left th' invader an unpeopled land.
While hospitality, truth, honour, peace,
And all the fond endearments these increase,
Mark'd all their actions, generous as great :-
Behold how good, THE PATRIARCHAL STATE !
Let us recall to mind the former days,
When Celtic Bards twin'd their immortal lays;
When mighty CAIRBAR, SELMA's deadly foe,
Fell by CUTHULIN's more than mortal blow:
When OSCAR, pride of heroes, pois'd the spear,
O'er whom MALVINA drop'd the tender tear,
While OSSIAN, aged, blind, whose tresses grey
Sigh'd on the breeze responsive to his lay,
Sang FINGAL's deeds in arms,-TEMORA's wars,
And as he swept the strings diplay'd his scars:
High on a blasted oak, his harp unstrung,
Toss'd by the stormy winds, neglected hung:
The wither'd grass sighs o'er the narrow bed,
Where deep in dust is laid his OSCAR's head:
MALVINA guides the Bard in silent woe,
As mournful moving onward soft and slow,
To feel with trembling hands the " four grey stones,"
He sinking sighs, and stifles rising groans.
To soothe his sorrow keen, in some soft strain
MALVINA wakes her harp, nor wakes in vain.
The aged mourner feels the soft controul,
The "joy of grief," thrills thro' his inmost soul.
"Oh! 'tis my OSCAR's well-known voice I hear!
Ah! why so seldom to my dreams appear?
Fathers of TOSCAR! ope your airy halls,
Unfold your portals-'tis MALVINA calls!
I come, I come!-my Oscar's voice I hear !
I come my love! MALVINA'a steps are near !
How heaves my bosom !-'twas a dream-'tis past
Why from yon troubled lake ascends the blast
That o'er the bending mountain's awful brow
Howls wild along, rending each blasted bough ?
MALVINA's dream hath vanish'd from her view!
But, she beheld her Love!-his voice she knew!-
His robe of mist the sun-beam hem'd with gold,
Waving on high in many an airy fold :
It was her OSCAR's voice MALVINA heard,
Her Love, who seldom to her dreams appear'd.
O son of OSSIAN of the powerful arm!
Still in my soul thou dwell'st-Oh shield from harm
Her whose deep sighs breathe forth from early dawn,
Whose tears descend when evening dews the lawn.
"Once in thy presence I a beauteous tree,
Whose branches spread around, and bloom'd for thee:
But soon thy fall came like a blast from far,
And laid me low midst elemental war!
The Spring return'd in mild refreshing showers;
No branch of mine e'er felt its genial powers!
The maidens saw me silent in the hall,
And to their harps bewail'd my early fall !"
"Why art thou mournful, maid of Lutha's stream? Say, was thy OSCAR as the mornings beam, Graceful and stately moving in thy sight;
Thy pride, thy joy, thy raptured soul's delight?"
"Daughter of streamy LUTHA!" OSSIAN says,
"How pleasant in mine ear thy mournful lays !
The song of Bards departed in thy dreams
Sooth'd thy sad soul, by Moruth's sounding streams,
As from the chace return'd in lowly guise
Sleep fell profound, and clos'd thy dewy eyes.
Thy song MALVINA soothes my heart-felt dole!
How sweet! how pleasant!-but, it melts the soul!
There is a joy in grief that calms all care,
That glads the sadden'd heart when peace dwells there;
But sorrow wastes apace the breast that grieves,
Daughter of mighty TOSCAR! whilst it heaves:
So falls the flower scorch'd by the noon-day blaze,
Eve's dew-drops bow its head, but ne'er again shall raise !"
Times less remote the Historic Muse records,
When rival chiefs, whose charters were their swords,
Ruled with tyrannic sway the Grampian hills, (22)
While ALBION groan'd beneath the Feudal ills.
What time old ROME her Freedom's race had run,
O'erwhelm'd by Vandal, ruthless Goth, and Hun;
While reign'd supreme wild Superstition's gloom,
And arts and science sunk into one tomb !
War spread its ruin round !—an IRON AGE
Display'd the horrid wonders of its rage
Murder was manly deem'd-and deeds most dire,
Day after day succeeded sword and fire!
Hence rose the FEUDAL STATE. High-minded chiefs
Then dealt their wide demesnes in servile fiefs;
AS VASSALS to the field the GAËL were led,
In causes not their own they oft-times bled,
When strangely model'd to the varying hour,
King, chief, or churchman, struggled each for power;
The mind perverted-fancy on the wing,
Attach'd all good to churchman, chief, or king!
Thus, in fierce conflicts were our Clans led forth,
While civil discord raged along the North;
Thus in rebellion wild they thrice arose,
And thrice were vanquish'd by their kindred foes. (23) Meanwhile a BRITISH SENATE, timely wise,
Beheld its error with impartial eyes,
With eagle-glance descry'd each chieftain brave
Worthy a hero's garland, or his grave! (24)
Hence, from th' auspicious hour the Grampians smil'd,
Each lonely glen and heath empurpled wild,
In gladness gleam'd, when Freedom was bestow'd,
And hostile Clans have since in friendship glow'd.
VI. Hence, from that era did BRITANNIA feel
Her own importance as ONE COMMONWEAL:
No longer nominal our UNION stands,
But strength, by trade and commerce now commands:
And from th' Hebridian shores and hills sublime
Our GALL adventure into every clime;
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