THE ORPHAN LADY OF GLENALLON. I. Returned from many a field of death, From bayonets rank'd for slaughter ready, I sought the peaceful banks of Teith, That sweetly flows beneath Benledi: There in my arms my Agnes lock'd, First fondly whisper'd me to love her; My mother there my cradle rock'd, And there the grass my grave shall cover! II. The midnight moon was waning fast, The stream beneath the star-beams glinting, Flew like my boyhood's visions past, When, hark! a lady, sore lamenting. Her tones that pierced the rocks above, Seem'd from the scene fresh grief to borrow, They were the accents of my love, Pouring to Heaven her tale of sorrow! III. Her mother to her grave was gone, Her father in the fight had fallen; But when she sang of love's decay, She sank beside the foaming river. IV. Oh! if there's aught a loving maid On the true bosom of her lover, I snatched her from the sweeping tide, I kiss'd her tears that fast were falling,— That lady's now a blooming bride, And I'm the Lord of fair Glenallon! S THE DREAMING HOUR. TO AURA. When the mountains gray, at the dawn of day, When the morning clouds, from their misty shroud, When the stars grow dim, and awakes each flowerThat is the Poet's dreaming hour. When the rustling breeze, through the forest trees, When down the dell where fairies dwell, When the birds their mellow matins pour- When the billows roar on a rocky shore, And the waning moon is sliding down That is an hour of bliss to me, The dreaming hour of Poesie! When the stars are bright in a winter night; Or 'neath the moon of a leafy June, Beloved! round my pathway gleams- Were mine the fire of Byron's lyre, (And, durst I breathe thy name,) Thy goodness, grace, and loveliness, With all the charms my soul that bless, BIRTH-DAY STANZAS. TO AURA. I. Oh! never while this heart can rapture feel, Still be it consecrated to delight, And, oh! may Love his gentlest radiance cast On each succeeding year more brightly than the last! II. Just seventeen fleet-wing'd years away have fled, Seventeen sweet summers now on her have shed And her dear gentle mother by her side Sate with her placid mien of calm delight, Or quietly around the room did glide, And looked in love on me and her my promised bride. |