Of all his morning visions vain.
Mingled with love’s impatience, came
The manly thirst for martial fame;
The stormy joy of mountaineers,
Ere yet they rush upon the spears;
And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning,
And hope, from well-fought field returning,
With war’s red honors on his crest,
To clasp his Mary to his breast.
Stung by such thoughts, o’er bank and brae,