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Where vent'rous prow ne'er cut the waves,
O swan! not far from my repose;
Bears on its wings the sound of woe.
For him on Lochlin's stormy coast
Who left my grey locks thus forlorn,
Dost thou with social sorrow mourn ?
* See note No. 5.
† See note No. 6.
XXIII. Thy beauteous cheek; grown pale with grief,
Still leans upon thy hand of snow,
Bright be the clouds of his repose ;
Pours on my heart the balm of ease;
Bear on thy wings the dulcet strain,-
And view his fair flow'r with’ring nigh.
Oft mingled with the stars of night;
Beneath the oak, the forest's pride;
And meteors waft th' enamour'd pair !
O turn again, once more return!
That leaps in thunder o'er the rock;
Ye breezes mild that softly blow,
Where shades of mighty heroes rest,
Your eyes no more the bard shall view : Let me my harp and shell behold,
And now, dear harp and shell, adieu !
THE AGED BARD'S WISH.
No. 1. P. 395. The first verse is so compressed in the original, that it is not possible to confine the sense in an equal number of English lines. The second has also some peculiar epithets that cannot be transfused into English in the same bounds. Thus it becomes necessary to give the sense of these two, in three English verses. This explanation is meant for the direction of such readers as may have the curiosity to compare this close and often literal translation with the corresponding verses of the original poem.
Betwixt the twelfth and fourteenth verses of the original are two highly figurative and poetical, but so much wrapt in the mist of local superstition, that they are difficult to understand or translate, and could only excite interest in minds to which the wild solemnity they breathe is in some degree familiar.