66 'TO MUTE AND TO MATERIAL THINGS,-(SCOTT)
When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead!
Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
[ From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," canto vi., xxxi.]
"BREATHES THERE THE MAN, WITH SOUL SO DEAD, WHO NEVER TO HIMSELF
THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPROACH.
JAR up the lengthened lake were spied
Four darkening specks upon the tide,
That, slow enlarging on the view,
Four manned and masted barges grew,
And, hearing downwards from Glengyle,
Steered full upon the lonely isle.
The point of Brianchoil they passed;
And, to the windward as they cast,
Against the sun they gave to shine
The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.
Nearer and nearer as they bear,
Spear, pikes, and axes flash in air.
Now might you see the tartans brave,
And plaids and plumage dance and wave ;
Now see the bonnets sink and rise,
As his tough oar the rower plies;
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,
The wave ascending into smoke;
See the proud pipers on the bow,
And mark the gaudy streamers flow
NEW LIFE REVOLVING SUMMER BRINGS."-SCOTT.
HATH SAID, THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND?"-SIR WALTER SCOTT.
"TIME ROLLS His ceaseLESS COURSE.
THE RACE OF YORE WHO DANCED OUR INFANCY UPON THEIR KNEE,-(SCOTT)
"THE VERNAL SUN NEW LIFE BESTOWS-(SIR W. SCOTT)
THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPROACH.
From their loud chanters *down, and sweep
The furrowed bosom of the deep,
As, rushing through the lake amain,
They plied the ancient Highland strain.
Ever, as on they bore, more loud
And louder rang the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellowed along the water came,
And, lingering long by cape and bay,
Wailed every harsher note away;
Then bursting bolder on the ear,
The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear,
Those thrilling sounds, that call the might
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight.
Thick beat the rapid notes, as when
The mustering hundreds shake the glen,
And, hurrying at the signal dread,
The battered earth returns their tread :
Then prelude light, of livelier tone,
Expressed their merry marching on;
Ere peal of closing battle rose,
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows,
And mimic din of stroke and ward,
As broadsword upon target jarred;
And groaning pause, ere yet again,
Condensed, the battle yelled amain;
The rapid charge, the rallying shout,
Retreat borne headlong into rout;
And bursts of triumph, to declare
Clan-Alpine's conquest;—all were there.
Nor ended thus the strain; but slow,
Sunk in a moan prolonged and low,
*The pipe of the bagpipe.
EVEN ON THE MEANEST FLOWER THAT BLOWS."-SCOTT.
AND TOLD OUR MARVELLING BOYHOOD LEGENDS STORE, HOW ARE THEY BLOTTED FROM THE THINGS THAT BE!"-SCOTT.
YET NOW, DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS, BUT SEEM THE RECOLLECTION OF A DREAM;
66 THOUGH VARYING WISHES, HOPES, AND FEARS,
And changed the conquering clarion swell,
For wild lament o'er those that fell.
The war-pipes ceased: but lake and hill
Were busy with their echoes still;
And when they slept, a vocal strain
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again;
While loud a hundred clansmen raise
Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.
Each boatman, bending to his oar
With measured sweep, the burden bore,
In such wild cadence as the breeze
Makes through December's leafless trees..
And near, and nearer, as they rowed,
Distinct the martial ditty flowed.
[From "The Lady of the Lake," canto ii.-The approach of Roderick Dhu to the woody island on Loch Katrine, where Lord Douglas and his daughter have found an asylum, is described by the aged harper, Allanbane.]
SO STILL WE GLIDE DOWN TO THE SEA OF FATHOMLESS ETERNITY."-SIR W. SCOTT.
JAIL to the Chief who in triumph advances!
Honoured and blessed be the ever-green Pine!
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!
Heaven send it happy dew,
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;
FEVERED THE progress of tHE YEARS,-(SCOTT)
"Soldier, rEST! THY WARFARE O'ER, DREAM OF FIGHTING FIELDS NO MORE:-(SIR W. SCOTT)
"THE ROSE IS FAIREST WHEN 'TIS BUDDING NEW,-(SIR W. SCOTT)
When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,
The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade.
Moored in the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest's shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
Echo his praise agen―
"Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
Broadly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,
And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied;
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side.
Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!
O! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
O that some seedling gem,
Worthy such noble stem,
Honoured and blessed in their shadow might grow!
Loud should Clan Alpine then
[From "The Lady of the Lake," canto ii.-This passage is declared by Jeffrey one of "the most characteristic of the peculiar genius of the author. The moving picture, the effect of the sounds, and the wild character and strong and peculiar nationality of the whole procession, are given with inimitable spirit and power of expression."]
AND HOPE IS BRIGHTEST WHEN IT DAWNS FROM FEARS. -SCOTT.
SLEEP THE SLEEP THAT KNOWS NOT BREAKING, MORN OF TOIL, NOR NIGHT OF WAKING."-SCOTT.
AND IF THERE BE A HUMAN TEAR FROM PASSION'S DROSS REFINED AND CLEAR,-(SCOTT)
"6 SOME FEELINGS ARE TO Mortals given,-(SCOTT)
THE TROSACHS AND LOCH KATRINE.
HE western waves of ebbing day
Rolled o'er the glen their level way;
Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
Was bathed in floods of living fire.
But not a setting beam could glow
Within the dark ravines below,
Where twined the path, in shadow hid,
Round many a rocky pyramid,
Shooting abruptly from the dell
Its thunder-splintered pinnacle;
Round many an insulated mass,
The native bulwarks of the pass,
Huge as the Tower which builders vain
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain.
The rocky summits, split and rent,
Formed turret, dome, or battlement,
Or seemed fantastically set
With cupola or minaret,
Wild crests as pagod ever decked,
Or mosque of Eastern architect.
Nor were these earth-born castles bare,
Nor lacked they many a banner fair;
For from their shivered brows displayed,
Far o'er the unfathomable glade,
All twinkling with the dew-drop's sheen,
The brier-rose fell in streamers green,
And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes,
Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.
Boon Nature scattered, free and wild,
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.
WITH LESS OF EARTH IN THEM THAN HEAVEN;
'TIS THAT WHICH PIOUS FATHERS SHED UPON A DUTEOUS DAUGHTER'S HEAD!"-SCOTT.
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