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Of the pine-tree and oak sleeping vast in the gloom, The kings of the forest disturb'd in their tomb.
E’en now, in the pomp of their prime, I behold
- Down the pass of Glen-Etive the tempest is borne, And the hill-side is swinging, and roars with a sound In the heart of the forest embosom'd profound. Till all in a moment the tumult is o'er, And the mountain of thunder is still as the shore When the sea is at ebb; not a leaf nor a breath To disturb the wild solitude, steadfast as death. From his eyrie the eagle hath soard with a scream, And I wake on the edge of the cliff from my dream ; - Where now is the light of thy far-beaming brow? Fleet son of the wilderness! where art thou now? - Again o'er yon crag thou return'st to my sight, Like the horns of the moon froia a cloud of the night! Serene on thy travelmas soul in a dreamThou needest no bridge o'er the rush of the stream. With thy presence the pine-grove is fill'd, as with light, And the caves, as thou passest, one moment are bright. Through the arch of the rainbow that lies on the rock Mid the mist stealing up from the cataract's shock, Thou fling'st thy bold beauty, exulting and free, O’er a pit of grim blackness, that roars like the sea.
His voyage is o'er !--As if struck by a spell,
Fit couch of repose for a pilgrim like thee !
And mellowing echo, on watch in the skies,
Yes ! fierce looks thy nature, ev'n hush'd in reposeIn the depth of thy 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-bound 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 l- 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,
All mute was the palace of Lochy that day,
-“ Fall down on your faces 1—the herd is at hand!”
-And onward they came like the sea o'er the sand ; Like the snow from the mountain when loosen'd by rain, And rolling along with a crash to the plain ; Like a thunder-split oak-tree, that falls in one shock, With his hundred wide arms from the top of the rock, Like the voice of the sky when the black cloud is near, So sudden, so loud, came the tempest of Deer. Wild mirth of the desert ! fit pastime for kings ! Which still the rude Bard in his solitude sings. Oh reign of magnificencel vanish'd for ever! Like music dried up in the bed of a river, Whose course hath been changed ! yet my soul can
survey The clear cloudless morn of that glorious day. Yes! the wide silent forest is loud as of yore, And the far-ebbed grandeur rolls back to the shore. I wake from my trance !-lo! the sun is declioing! And the Black-mount afar in his lustre is shining. -One soft golden gleam ere the twilight prevail ! Then down let me sink to the cot in the dale, Where sings the fair maid to the viol so sweet, Or the floor is alive with her white twinkling feet, Down, down like a bird to the depth of the dell! - Vanish'd creature! I bid thy fair image farewell !