Till shunn'd by every constant maid;
Condemned by friends, by kindred press'd;
Deceitful thus, in smiles array'd,

6

Mora the sorrowing youth address'd:

Too long, O Col! in plaintive moan

Thou'st strung thy harp to strains divine,— Add but two strings of varied tone,

This heart, this yielding heart is thine."
Two strings the youth, with anxious care
Half doubtful, to his harp applies;
And oft, in vain, he turns each air,
And oft each varying note he tries;

At length (unrivaled in his art!)

With newborn sounds the valley rings;Col claims his Mora's promised heart

As deep he strikes the varied strings!

Three moons, three honied moons, are pass'd
Since Col, enraptured, laugh'd at care;
And oft the tuneful harp he bless'd
That won a nymph so good and fair:

Till mindful of those tender ties

That fashion's sons would blush to name,
With softened voice and melting sighs
He thus accosts his peerless dame—

Three months, dear partner of my bliss!
Three fleeting months have shed their charms,
Since first I snatch'd the bridal kiss,

And clasped perfection to my arms:

"Yet happiness, however true,
Must fade if selfish or confined;
Your friends now claim affections due,
The kindred transports of the mind!

1

Each parent mourns our cold delay,

They think of Mora with a tear: The gale invites-at early day

To Cana's seabeat shore we steer.'

The morn blush'd fair; mild blew the gale;
The lark to heaven light-warbling springs;
Col smiles with love, spreads quick the sail,
And sweeps with ravished heart the strings!
But ah! how short the transient gleams
That light with joy the human breast!—
The tempest raves, and wildly screams

Each frighted seafowl to her nest.

High rage the billows of the deep
That lately rolled serenely mild,
And dash'd near Kilda's awful steep,
Col clasps his love with horror wild.
For cold's the form o'er which he hung
With raptured eye the morn before;
And mute and tuneless is the tongue
That charm'd so late on Bara's shore;
And pale and lifeless is the cheek

That glow'd so late with rosy hue;
The eye that melting joys could speak
Is closed!-the eye of softening blue.
Hard with the furious surge he strove,

His love and favourite harp to save; Till deep in Crona's seaworn cove

He bears them safe from storm and wave.

But cove, nor love's assiduous care

Could ebbing life's warm tide restore!-
Pale, wet, and speechless lay the fair
On Kilda's bleak and stormy shore.
VOL. II.

Oft, oft her breathless lips of clay
With frantic cries he fondly press'd;
And while a senseless corse she lay,

He strain'd her madly to his breast.

But who can paint with pencil true

The scene, when sighs first struggling stole (Which thus by magic love he drew)

Deep labouring from her fluttering soul!

• She breathes!—she lives!' the minstrel cried, 'Life has not fled this beauteous form!— Protecting Heaven! some aid provide !— Shield-shield my trembler from the storm!

'No roof its friendly smoke displays!
No storm-scaped faggot, turf, nor tree—
No shrub to yield one kindly blaze,
And warm my love to life and me!

'Dark grows the night!—and cold and sharp
Beat wind and hail and drenching rain!
Nought else remains-I'll burn my harp!'
He cries, and breaks his harp in twain.

For thee, O Mora! oft it rung,

To guard thee from each rival's art;
And now, though broken and unstrung,
It guards from death thy constant heart.'

Bright flamed the fragments as he spoke;
One parting sigh his harp he gave;

The storm-drench'd faggots blazed through smoke,
And snatch'd his Mora from the grave.

PART II.

Now heedless raved the stormy night,
For instant terror frown'd no more,
And cheerful blazed the spreading light
Round Kilda's dark and dismal shore;

And cheerful smiled the grateful pair,
And talk'd of death and dangers past,
When loud the voice of wild despair

Came rushing on the midnight blast.

Chill horror seized each lover's heart.—

Ah me! what dismal sounds draw near! 'Defend us, Heaven!' with sudden start Cried Mora, thrill'd with frantic fear.

One hand supports his trembling wife,
The other grasps his trusty glave;
'My harp,' he cries, has given thee life,
And this, that precious life shall save!'

'No danger comes,' deep sigh'd a form,
As near the cave it shivering stood;
'A stranger, shipwreck'd by the storm,
Implores the generous and the good;

'No danger comes-ah me! forlorn!

A wretch by woes and tempests toss'd! From love, from friends, and kindred torn, And dash'd on Kilda's frightful coast!

Restless with grief, at opening day For Lewis' isle I spread the sail; Sweet rose the lark with cheerful lay,

And sweetly blew the flattering gale!

'Ah fate relentless! thus to cheat

With baneful lure and treacherous smile!— Were human sufferings not complete

Till wreck'd on Kilda's desert isle!

'Lured by the light that gleams afar,

With fainting steps these cliffs I press'd:O! may it prove a polar star,

And guide to pity's sheltering breast!'
Quick from his grasp the falchion flies
As Col each opening arm extends;
6 Approach, ill fated youth!' he cries,
Here-here are none but suffering friends!
Like thee, we hail'd the matin song,
The flattering gale, and faithless tide!-
How sweet by zephyrs borne along,
My harp and Mora by my side!

'Why starts the youth?-approach-draw near,
Behold the wreck of storm and wave.-
'Tis all that's left!-my harp so dear
I burn'd, that fair one's life to save!'

First pale, then crimson grew his cheek,
And sorely shook his manly frame !
His faltering tongue refused to speak,
Save to repeat his Mora's name.

A name which oft had charm'd his ear,
And even from childhood grew more sweet;
A name which love had render'd dear,
And sorrow taught him to repeat!

Long had he nursed the kindling flame,
Long, long possess'd her virgin heart;
But party feuds and discord came,

And forced the tenderest pair to part.