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O tell me more of this sad tale
No; thou enjoy thy gentle sleep! And I will go to Lothian's vale. And more than all her waters weep.'
XXVI. Owen to Lothian's vale is fled
Earl Barnard's lofty towers appear'0! art thou there; (the full heart said)
O! art thou there, my parent dear?' Yes, she is there : from idle state
Oft has she stole her hour to weep; Think how she by thy cradle sate,'
And how she ‘fondly saw thee sleep.'* Now tries his trembling hand to frame
Full many a tender line of lave; And still he blots the parent's name, For that, he fears, might fatal prove.
xxvir! O’er a fair fountain's smiling side
Reclin'd a dim tower, clad with moss, Where every bird was wont to bide,
That languish’d for its partner's loss : This scene he chose, this scene assign'd
A parent's first embrace to wait, And many a soft fear fill’d his mind,
Anxious for his fond letter's fate. The hand that bore those lines of love,
The well-informing bracelet boreAh! may they not unprosperous prove !
Ah! safely pass yon dangerous door!
* See the ancient Scottish ballad, called Gill Morrice,
XXVIII. "She comes not ;-can she then delay?
(Cried the fair youth, and dropt a tear) Whatever filial love could say,
To her I said, and callid her dear! • She comes-Oh! nomencircled round,
'Tis some rude chief, with many a spear : My hapless tale that earl has found
Ah me! my heart !—for her I fear.' His tender tale that earl had read,
Or ere it reach'd his lady's eye, His dark brow wears a cloud of red, In rage he deems a rival nigh.
XXIX. 'Tis o’er-those locks that wav'd in gold,
That wav'd adown those cheeks so fair, Wreath'd in the gloonty tyrant's hold,
Hang from the sever'd head in air ; That streaming head he joys to bear,
In horrid guise to Lothian's halls; Bids his grim ruffians place it there,
Erect upon the frowning walls. The fatal tokens forth he drew
“Know'st thou these-Ellen of the vale ? The pictur'd bracelet soon she knew,
And soon her lovely cheek grew pale : The trembling victim straight he led,
Ere yet her soul's first fear was o'er ; He pointed to the ghastly head
She saw-and sunk, to rise no more.
CHILDRENOf Fancy, whither are ye fed?
Where have ye borne those hope-enliven’d hours, That once with myrtle garlands bound my head,
That once bestrew'd my vernal path with flowers? In yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen grove, Where winds the slow wave through the flowery
plain, To these fond arms you led the tyrant, Love,
With Fear and Hope and Folly in his train. My lyre, that, left at careless distance, hung
Light on some pale branch of the osier shade, To lays of amorous blandishment you strung,
And o'er my sleep the lulling music play'd :
Rest, gentle youth! while on the quivering breeze
Slides to thine ear this softly-breathing strain ; Sounds that move smoother than the steps of Ease,
And pour oblivion in the ear of Pain. * In this fair vale eternal Spring shall smile,
And Time unenvious crown each roseate hour; Eternal joy shall every care beguile,
Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower, * This silver stream, that down its crystal way
Frequent has led thy musing steps along, Shall, still the same, in sunny mazes play,
And with its murmurs melodize thy song. • Unfading green shall these fair groves adorn ;
Those living meads immortal flowers unfold; In rosy smiles shall rise each blushing morn,
And every evening close in clouds of gold. • The tender loves that watch thy slumbering rest,
And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles strew, Shall charm, through all approaching life, thy breast,
With joys for ever pure, for ever new. • The genial power that speeds the golden dart,
Each charm of tender passion shall inspire ; With fond affection fill the mutual heart,
And feed the flame of ever-young desire. *Come, gentle Loves ! your myrtle garlands bring;
The smiling bower with cluster'd roses spread; Come, gentle airs ! with incense-dropping wing
The breathing sweets of vernal odour shed. 'Hark, as the strains of swelling music rise,
How the notes vibrate on the favouring gale ! Auspicious glories beam along the skies,
And powers unseen the happy moments hail!
* Ecstatic hours ! so every distant day
Like this serene on downy wings shall move; Rise crown'd with joys that triumph o’er decay,
The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love.'
And were they vain, those soothing lays ye sung?
Children of Fancy! yes, your song was vain ; On each soft air though rapt Attention hung,
And Silence listen’d on the sleeping plain. The strains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear,
And still to smile the mimic beauties seem, Though now the visionary scenes appear
Like the faint traces of a vanish'd dream. Mirror of life! the glories thus depart
Of all that Youth and Love and Fancy frame, When painful Anguish speeds the piercing dart,
Or Envy blasts the blooming flowers of Fame. Nurse of wild wishes, and of fond desires,
The prophetess of Fortune, false and vain, The scenes where Peace in Ruin's arms expires
Fallacious Hope deludes her hapless train. Go, Siren, go-thy charms on others try;
My beaten bark at length has reach'd the shore: Yet on the rock my dropping garments lie ;
And let me perish, if I trust thee more. Come, gentle Quiet! long-neglected maid !
O come, and lead me to thy mossy cell; There unregarded in the peaceful shade,
With calm Repose and Silence let me dwell.