18. Loud rings, in air, the chapel bell; 'Tis hush'd: What sounds are these I hear? The organ's soft celestial swell Rolls deeply on the listening ear. 19. To this is join'd the sacred song, 20. Our choir would scarcely be excused, 21. If David, when his toils were ended, Had heard these blockheads sing before him, To us his psalms had ne'er descended, In furious mood he would have tore 'em. 22. The luckless Israelites, when taken, 23. Oh! had they sung in notes like these, Inspired by stratagem or fear, They might have set their hearts at ease, The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. 24. But, if I scribble longer now, The deuce a soul will stay to read ; My pen is blunt, my ink is low, 'Tis almost time to stop, indeed. 25. Therefore, farewell, old GRANTA's spires, No more, like Cleofas, I fly; No more thy theme my Muse inspires, The reader's tired, and so am I. LACHIN Y GAIR. LACHIN Y GAIR, or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch NA GARR, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern Tourists mentions it as the highest mountain, perhaps, in GREAT BRITAIN; be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our "Caledonian Alps.” Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows: near Lachin y Gair, I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following Stanzas. I. AWAY, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake re poses, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love: Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, · Round their white summits though elements war, Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. 2. Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd, My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;* On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd, As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade; I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; For Fancy was cheer'd by traditional story Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. 3. "Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices "Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?" Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale : Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers, Winter presides in his cold icy car; Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr : * This word is erroneously pronounced PLAD, the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography. 4. "Ill-starr'd,*. though brave, did no visions fore boding "Tell you that Fate had forsaken your cause? Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,† Victory crown'd not your fall with applause; Still were you happy, in death's early slumber, You rest with your clan, in the caves of Brae mar, S The Pibroch** resounds to the piper's loud number Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr. * I allude here to my maternal ancestors, "the GORDONS," many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the STEWARTS. George, the 2d Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stewart, daughter of James the 1st of Scotland; by her he left four sons: the 3d, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors. Whether any perished in the battle of Culloden I am not certain; but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, "pars pro toto." A tract of the Highlands so called; there is also a Castle of Braemar. ** The Bagpipe. |