I saw his plume and bonnet drop, When hurrying from the mountain top; To his bright eyes new lustre gave, A step as light upon the green, As if his pinions waved unseen!" Spoke he with none ?"-" With none-one word Burst when he saw the Island Lord, Returning from the battle field." "What answer made the Chief?"-" He kneeled, Durst not look up, but muttered low, Some mingled sounds that none might know, XXXVII Even upon Bannock's bloody plain, Heaped then with thousands of the slain, Such noble front, such waving hair? CONCLUSION. Go forth, my Song, upon thy venturous way; And graced thy numbers with no friendly name, All angel now-yet little less than all, While still a pilgrim in our world below! What 'vails it us that patience to recall, Which hid its own, to soothe all other woe; What 'vails to tell, how VIRTUE'S purest glow Shone yet more lovely in a form so fair;And, least of all, what 'vails the world should know, That one poor garland, twined to deck thy hair, is hung upon thy hearse, to droop and wither there: Contributions to Border Minstrelsy. GLENFINLAS; OR, LORD RONALD'S CORONACH. (This ballad first appeared in Lewis's Tales of Wonder.) THE simple tradition, upon which the following stanzas are founded, runs thus: While two Highland hunters were passing the night in a solitary bothy (a hut built for the purpose of hunting), and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expressed a wish, that they had pretty lasses to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and singing. One of the hunters was seduced, by the syren who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut; the other remained, and, suspicious of the fair seducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's-harp, some strain, consecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the fiend, into whose toils he had fallen. The place was from thence called, The Glen of the Green Women. Glenfinlas is a tract of forest-ground, lying in the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Callender, in Menteith. It was formerly a royal forest, and now belongs to the Earl of Moray. This country, as well as the adjacent district of Balquidder, was, in times of yore, chiefly inhabited by the Macgregors. To the west of the Forest of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its romantic avenue, called the Trosachs. Benledi, Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same district, and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Callender and the Castle of Doune, and joins the Forth near Stirling. The Pass of Lenny is immediately above Callender, and is the principal access to the Highlands from that town. Glenartney is a forest, near Benvoirlich. The whole forms a sublime tract of Alpine scenery. Coronach is the lamentation for a deceased warrior, sung by the aged of the clan. "For them the viewless forms of air obey, Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair; To see the phantom train their secret work prepare." "O HONE a rie'! O hone a rie' !"b The pride of Albin's line is o'er, O, sprung from great Macgillianore, How, on the Teith's resounding shore, The boldest Lowland warriors fell, As down from Lenny's pass you bore. But o'er his hills, on festal day, How blazed Lord Ronald's Beltane tree, O ne'er to see Lord Ronald more! From distant isles a Chieftain came, 'Twas Moy; whom in Columba's isle, Was never meant for mortal ear. For there, 'tis said, in mystic mood, High converse with the dead they hold, bO hone a rie' signifies-" Alas for the prince, or chief." The term Sassenach, or Saxon, is applied by the Highlanders to their Low-country neighbours. d The fires lighted by the Highlanders, on the first of May, in compliance with a custom derived from the Pagan times, are termed The Beltane-tree. It is a festival celebrated with various superstitious rites, both in the north of Scotland and in Wales. • An allusion to the second-sight. And oft espy the fated shroud, To rouse the red deer from their den, To watch their safety, deck their board; Their simple dress, the Highland plaid, Their trusty guard, the Highland sword. Three summer days, through brake and dell, Their whistling shafts successful flew ; And still, when dewy evening fell, The quarry to their hut they drew. In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook The solitary cabin stood, Fast by Moneira's sullen brook, Which murmurs through that lonely wood. Soft fell the night, the sky was calm, When three successive days had flown; And summer mist in dewy balm Steeped heathy bank, and mossy stone. The moon, half hid in silvery flakes, Their sylvan fare the chiefs enjoy; The daughters of the proud Glengyle. Beneath a sister's watchful eye. "But thou mayst teach that guardian air, While far with Mary I am flown, Of other hearts to cease her care, And find it hard to guard her own. |