And Oscar claimed the beauteous bride,
And Angus on his Oscar smiled;
It soothed the father's feudal pride
Thus to obtain Glenalvon's child.
Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note!
Hark to the swelling nuptial song!
In joyous strains the voices float,
And still the choral peal prolong.
* * * * *
But where is Oscar? Sure 'tis late:
Is this a bridegroom's ardent flame?
While thronging guests and ladies wait
Nor Oscar nor his brother came.
At length young Allan join'd the bride;
'Why comes not Oscar?' Angus said:
'Is he not here?' the youth replied;
'With me he roved not o'er the glade.'
* * * * *
'O search, ye chiefs! O search around!
Allan, with these through Alva fly;
Till Oscar, till my son is found,
Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply.'
Three days, three sleepless nights, the chief
For Oscar searched each mountain cave
Then hope is lost: in boundless grief
His locks in grey torn ringlets wave.
* * * * *
Days rolled along: the orb of light
Again had run his destined race;
No Oscar bless'd his father's sight,
And sorrow left a fainter trace.