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And mellowing echo, on watch in the skies,
Yes ! fierce looks thy nature, ev'n hush'd in reposeIn the depth of tay desert regardless of foes. Thy bold antlers call on the hunter afar With a haughty defiance to come to the war! No outrage is war to a creature like thee! The bugle horn fills thy wild spirit with glee, As thou bearest thy neck on the wings of the wind, And the laggardly gaze-hound is toiling behind. In the beams of thy forehead that glitter with death, In feet that draw power from the touch of the heath, In the wide-raging torrent that lends thee its roar, In the cliff that once trod must be trodden no more,Thy trust—'mid the dangers that threaten thy reign ! - But what if the stag on the mountain be slain ? On the brink of the rock-lo! he standeth at bay, Like a victor that falls at the close of the dayWhile hunter and hound in their terror retreat From the death that is spurn'd from his furious feet : And his last cry of anger comes back from the skies, As nature's fierce son in the wilderness dies. High life of a hunter! he meets on the bill The new-waken'd daylight, so bright and so still ;
And feels, as the clouds of the morning unroll,
cloud, To him comes an echo more awfully loud. When the clear depth of noontide, with glittering
motion, O'erflows the lone glens-an aerial oceanWhen the earth and the heavens, in union profound, Lie blended in beauty that knows not a soundAs his eyes in the sunshiny solitude close 'Neath a rock of the desert in dreaming repose, He sees, in his slumhers, such visions of old As his wild Gaelic songs to his infancy told ; O'er the mountains a thousand plumed hunters are
borne, And he starts from his dream at the blast of the horn. Yes! child of the desert! fit quarry were thou For the hunter that came with a crown on his brow,By princes attended with arrow and spear, In their white-tented camp, for the warfare of deer. In splendour the tents on the green summit stood, And brightly they shove from the glade in the wood, And, silently built by a magical spell, The pyramid rose in the depth of the dell.
All mute was the palace of Lochy that day,
SHALL A LIGHT WORD PART US?
We have been friends together,
We have been gay together ;
We have been sad together,
THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells ?
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main ! Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells,
Bright things which gleam unreck'd of and in vain. Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea !
We ask not such from thee.
Yet more, the depths have more l-What wealth untold
Far down, and shining through their stillness, lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies. Sweep o'er thy speils, thou wild and wrathful main !
Earth claims not these again !
Yet more, the depths have more! Thy waves have rollid
Above the cities of a world gone by! Sand hath fill'd up the palaces of old,
Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry! Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play,
Man yields them to decay!
Yet more! the billows and the depths have more !
High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave
Give back the true and brave !