'Old man!' he cried, 'this pledge is done;
Thou saw'st was duly drunk by me:
It hail'd the nuptials of thy son:
Now will I claim, a pledge from thee.
While all around is mirth and joy,
To bless thy Allan's happy lot,
Say, had'st thou ne'er another boy?
Say, why should Oscar be forgot?'
'Alas!' the hapless sire replied,
The big tear starting as he spoke;
When Oscar left my hall, or died,
This aged heart was almost broke.
'Thrice has the earth revolved her course
Since Oscar's form has bless'd my sight;
And Allan is my last resource,
Since martial Oscar's death or flight.'
''Tis well,' replied the stranger stern,
And fiercely flashed his rolling eye;
'Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn:
Perhaps the hero did not die.
'Perchance if those whom most he loved
Would call, thy Oscar might return;
Perchance the chief has only roved;
For him thy beltane yet may burn.
'Fill high the bowl the table round,
We will not claim the pledge by stealth;
With wine let every cup be crown'd:
Pledge me departed Oscar's health.'
'With all my soul,' old Angus said,
And fill'd his goblet to the brim;
'Here's to my boy! alive or dead,
I ne'er shall find a son like him.'
'Bravely, old man, this health hath sped;
But why does Allan trembling stand?
Come, drink remembrance of the dead,
And raise thy cup with firmer hand.'
The crimson glow of Allan's face
Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue;
The drops of death each other chase
Adown in agonizing dew.