Glenara

Oh! heard you yon pibroch sound sad in the galeWhere a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear;And her sire and her people are call'd to her bier.

Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud;Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;They march'd all in silence—they look'd to the ground.

In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor,To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar,'Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn-Why speak ye no word?' said Glenara the stern.

'And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouseWhy fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?'So spake the rude chieftain: no answer is made,But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.

'I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her shroud,'Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;'And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem:Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

Oh! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,When the shroud was unclosed, and no body was seen.Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn---'Twas the youth that had lov'd the fair Ellen of Lorn.

'I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her grief,I dream'd that her lord was a barbarous chief;On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem:Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found;From the rock of the ocean that beauty is borne;Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!

Campbell.