It rises on the murm❜ring gale,

Till Night expands her dusky wings.

31.

It breaks the stillness of the night,

But echoes through her shades in vain It sounds through morning's misty light, But Oscar comes not o'er the plain.

32.

;

Three days, three sleepless nights, the chief
For Oscar search'd each mountain cave;
Then hope is lost, in boundless grief,
His locks in gray-torn ringlets wave.

1 Oscar! my

33.

son! Thou God of Heaven! « Restore the prop of sinking age;

Or, if that hope no more is given,

» Yield his assassin to my rage.

34.

<< Yes, on some desert rocky shore

>>

My Oscar's whiten'd bones must lie; Then grant, thou God! I ask no more, « With him his frantic sire may die!

35.

<< Yet, he may live,-away despair!

<< Be calm, my soul! he yet may live; << T' arraign my fate, my voice forbear,

« O God! my impious prayer forgive.

36.

« What, if he live for me no more,
<< I sink forgotten in the dust,
<< The hope of Alva's age is o'er,

« Alas! can pangs like these be just? »
37.

Thus did the hapless parent mourn, Till Time, who sooths severest woe, Had bade serenity return,

And made the tear-drop cease to flow.

38.

For, still, some latent hope surviv'd That Oscar might once more appear; His hope now droop'd, and now reviv'd, Till Time had told a tedious year.

39.

Days roll'd along, the orb of light
Again had run his destin'd race;
No Oscar bless'd his father's sight,
And sorrow left a fainter trace.

40.

For youthful Allan still remain'd,

And, now, his father's only joy: And Mora's heart was quickly gain'd, For beauty crown'd the fair-hair'd boy.

41.

She thought that Oscar low was laid,

And Allan's face was wond'rous fair;

If Oscar liv'd, some other maid

Had claim'd his faithless bosom's care.

42.

And Angus said, if one year more
In fruitless hope was pass'd away,
His fondest scruples should be o'er,
And he would name their nuptial day.

43.

Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last, Arriv'd the dearly destin'd morn;

The

year

of anxious trembling past, What smiles the lover's cheeks adorn!

44.

Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note!
Hark to the swelling nuptial song!
In joyous strains the voices float,
And, still, the choral peal prolong.

45.

Again the clan, in festive crowd,

Throng thro' the gate of Alva's hall;

The sounds of mirth re-echo loud;
And all their former joy recall.

46.

But, who is he, whose darken'd brow Glooms in the midst of general mirth? Before his eyes far fiercer glow

The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth.

47.

Dark is the robe which wraps his form,
And tall his plume of gory red;
His voice is like the rising storm,
But light and trackless is his tread.

48.

'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round,
The bridegroom's health is deeply quaft;
With shouts the vaulted roofs resound,
And all combine to hail the draught.

49.

Sudden the stranger chief arose,

And all the clamorous crowd are hush'd; And Angus' cheek with wonder glows, And Mora's tender bosom blush'd.

50.

« Old man! » he cried, « this pledge is done, << Thou saw'st 'twas duly drank by me, It hail'd the nuptials of thy son,

« Now will I claim a pledge from thee.

51.

« While all around is mirth and joy, «To bless thy Allan's happy lot;

«Alas! » the hapless sire replied,
<< The big tear starting as he spoke ;

<< When Oscar left my hall, or died,

<< This aged heart was almost broke.

53.

Thrice has the earth revolv'd her course
<< Since Oscar's form has blest my sight;

« And Allan is my last resource,

<< Since martial Oscar's death, or flight.

54

<< "Tis well,» replied the stranger stern,
And fiercely flash'd his rolling eye,

« Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn,

<< Perchance, if those, whom most he lov'd,
<< Would call, thy Oscar might return;
« Perchance, the chief has only rov'd,
<< For him thy Beltane (1), yet, may burn.

56.

<< Fill high the bowl, the table round,
« We will not claim the pledge by stealth

« With wine let every cup be crown'd,

«

Pledge me departed Oscar's health. »

57.

« With all my soul, »> old Angus said,

And fill'd his goblet to the brim;

(1) Beltane-Tree.-A Highland festival, on the first of may, held near fires lighted for the occasion.