"Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart,
"And dropp'd the tear, and heav'd the sigh;
"But vain the lover's wily art,
"Beneath a sister's watchful eye.
"But thou may'st teach that guardian fair,
"While far with Mary I am flown,
"Of other hearts to cease her care,
"And find it hard to guard her own.
"Touch but thy harp, thou soon shalt see
"The lovely Flora of Glengyle,
"Unmindful of her charge and me,
"Hang on thy notes, 'twixt tear and smile.
"Or, if she chuse a melting tale,
"All underneath the greenwood bough,
"Will good St Oran's rule prevail,
"Stern huntsman of the rigid brow?"—
—"Since Enrick's fight, since Morna's death,
"No more on me shall rapture rise,
"Responsive to the panting breath,
"Or yielding kiss, or melting eyes.
"E'en then, when o'er the heath of woe,
"Where sunk my hopes of love and fame,
"I bade my harp's wild wailings flow,
"On me the Seer's sad spirit came.
"The last dread curse of angry heaven,
"With ghastly sights and sounds of woe,
"To dash each glimpse of joy, was given—
"The gift, the future ill to know.
"The bark thou saw'st, yon summer morn,
"So gaily part from Oban's bay,
"My eye beheld her dash'd and torn,
"Far on the rocky Colonsay.
"Thy Fergus too—thy sister's son,
"Thou saw'st, with pride, the gallant's power,
"As marching 'gainst the Lord of Downe,
"He left the skirts of huge Benmore.
"Thou only saw'st their tartans[83] wave,
"As down Benvoirlich's side they wound,
"Heard'st but the pibroch[84], answering brave
"To many a target clanking round.