a - 16 "LIBRARY OF THE U N I VE.RSITY Of ILLI NOIS 82 S J"e<5c v.2 CLAN-ALBIN: A NATIONAL TALE. A natiou fam'd for song and beauty's charms ; Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though freej Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms ; Inflexible in faith ; invincible in arms. Beattie. IN TOUR VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: TRfNTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, & BROWN, LONDON; MACREDrE, SKELLY, AND MUCKERSY, EDINBURGH \ AND JOHN CUMMFNG, DUBLIN. 1815, John Molr, Mater. £Z3 CLAN-ALBIN, A NATIONAL TALE. CHAP. XIX. " Fair to no purpose, artful to no end." Pope. JVIonimia kept her promise to the unfortu- nate old man. She took the child to her bosom with maternal fondness. Montague was at first sullen, but as he was not ill- natured, the gay temper, affectionate manners, and beautiful form of the little exile, won even his good-will. The little Irish girl was indeed a general favourite ; but with the Piper she threatened to supplant all the chil- dren in the district. The shooting season now brought many idle strangers to the Highlands ; the time of Mon- tague was occupied by what he called his VOL. II. B 2 CLAN-ALBIN, quality friends, and the peaceful domestic hours of Monimia were continually invaded by an influx of female visitors, who, com- pelled to live for some months in the country, without talents either to improve or embellish retirement, were glad to transfer to another the burden of their own inanity. The Highland moors were become so very fashionable, that many gentlemen annually travelled North ; and immediately the ladies were smitten with a taste for the picturesque, the sublime, and the dreary. But it was im- possible to gaze for ever on huge rocks, dark lakes, foaming torrents, and mountains in endless expansion. " A Northern Meeting," was now the word : and the good motherly ladies of the country, who had never been able to travel South, were delighted with a cheap opportunity of showing their grown up girls a little of life, and teaching them some- thing of manner. The plan had grown in general estimation ; for the idle and the young found amusement ; the vain a field for display, and the designing a theatre of action. Two rustic coquettes, by the aid of fine com- plexions, high spirits, novelty, and the High- land fling, had already obtained what were A NATIONAL TALE. 3 called, — " most advantageous establishments," — and all the clever, sensible mamma's de- clared the countries, — " infinitely indebted to the public spirit of Her Grace of .'* These rural meetings were no doubt inferior, both in substantial luxury and elegant taste, to the brighter assemblies of London or Bath ; but they had their own charms ; — the same vanity, dress, gaiety, scandal, envy, and delight. The higher class, for one week, were unrivalled ; supreme over fashion and man- ners ; and the inferior orders busy in acquir- ing anecdotes, airs, and graces, at second- hand, to excite the astonishment of country neighbours, and amuse their winter solitude. Neither Norman nor Flora had visited much at Dunalbin for some weeks ; but a series of rainy weather had relieved Monimia from her troublesome friends, and the little circle had again resumed the habits of their former life. One morning they were seated at their usual studies, when a party of ladies on horse- back were descried sweeping through the defile, which separated Strath from Glen- albin. " There they come," said Monimia, some- what peevishly, — " I know nothing so teasing 4 CLAN-ALBIN, as the affected regard of troublesome people. Two of these ladies are become so very fond of me, that I believe they will soon make me loathe myself." Norman and Flora rose to go home, — u Nay, I insist that for one day you share my penance : surely you are too gallant to fly the ladies \ and for your encouragement, my dear Flora, let me assure you that this fair covey indicates a flight of gentlemen as certainly as the screaming of the gull does bad weather.'' The young friends smiled ; and walked to the window, to view the fair, and still distant riders. " These are the Gordon's, and Miss Sin- clair, the relation and humble companion of their aunt. Of course you know how high- blooded, and high-bred they both are. Yet they are essentially different. Miss Gordon is stately, proud, perpendicular, insolent; using the privileges of her birth to excuse her breeding. You Norman, must adore her, but at a humble distance ; she will no more pardon your indifference than your presump- tion. Flora must not dare to look at her." " Then for Heaven's sake let me go home." " Oh no ; — her sister will atone for that. A NATIONAL TALE. S he will crave your friendship in half an hour, and vow you her own on five minutes acquain- tance, — if it strikes her. Maria is little, pretty, good-humoured, vain, capricious ; and the animal at least is lively. You must flirt, and if you please, you may romp with her. Should Flora snatch out a pearl comb, or pull off a glove opportunely, and so display the most beautiful flaxen tresses, and the fairest arm in the world ; — even she may hope for par- don. — How I loathe affectation ! 'Tis woman's easily besetting sin ; — but I am sure if ever it do appear in me, it must be the affectation of being natural." Flora smiled and shook her head, — " But is not this rather, rather, " " Severe ?" — replied Monimia, returning her smile, — " Perhaps so. But really it strikes me as both silly and idle to weep, and wail, and gnash my teeth at the follies of half the world. I do not wish my acquaintances to have faults and follies j but since they are there, if they do not make one laugh, I am sure they are good for nothing else. How- ever, my dear Flora, be not afraid ; morals is a grave word, — we won't use that , but good taste will keep me from troubling you very B 2 6 CLAN-ALBIX, # often with the amiable qualities of my friends." " But pray let us have our cues," said Norman, — " you have forgot Miss Sinclair." " That is odd enough, for I am sure no lady has a more lively rec llection of herself. I cannot give you a cue to Mis Sinclair. She is a chameleon, and somewhat more ; for she takes not only colour, but form, from the cir- cumambient air. Au reste she is a maiden lady, well born, and of very elegant senti- ments ; whom my brother, though not remark- able either for one or t'other, could persuade. — But hush ; they approach ; — she is depends ent on Lady Gordon." The door was thrown open, and Miss Gor- don slightly bent her towering neck to Mr?. Montague, overlooked Flora, but saw Nor- man young and handsome ; and, complaining of fatigue, threw herself on a sopha as ele- gantly as possible. Maria ran with open arms to embrace her " dearest Mrs. Montague," and only gave way to the inquiries and caresses of Miss Sinclair. " My dearest creature, how have you con- trived to exist for the last week ?" cried Maria, — u Positively we embraced the first glimpse A NATIONAL TALE. 7 of sunshine to see that you had not hanged or drowned yourself; — did we not Sinclair." Miss Sinclair confirmed this statement, pro- bably forgetting that Miss Gordon's industri- ous maid had heard Sir Archibald tell his friend and visitor, Mr. Mansel, that as their sport lay towards Glenalbin, they would spunge on the pin-man and his elegant sister. Monimia was as graterul for all this kind- ness as politeness required. Miss Gordon ex- amined Norman with haughty, yet earnest attention, and stared at Flora with well-bred rudeness. Maria ran across the room, admired the plants, the birds, and the prospect ; worked at Flora's frame, and snatched up Norman's book. It was a volume of Gaelic poetry, which Monimia had been reading. " Good Lard ! Mrs. Montague," cried she, — " let me hope you that you dt>n't convulse your organs of speech with this savage dialect ?" Monimia made a gay reply. She was as unfond of trying to reform the world, as of weeping and wailing over its follies. "But what," said Maria, in an affected whisper, — " if I should tell Sir Archibald of your elegant language-master ?" 8 CLAN-ALBIN, The heart of Norman throbbed violently, — his breath came quick; but Monimia did not deign to reply : she looked haughtily dis- pleased ; and Miss Sinclair chid Maria for a giddy-brain, while she expatiated on the amazing fondness Sir Archibald had concei ed for the country, the love his tenants felt for him, and the various good qualities with which she was pleased to endow him. Montague at length entered to pay his respects to the ladies. Maria flew forward, and seized him by both hands, while he stood like a dancing bear with a pole. " My dear good man, you must positively give me a morsel of dinner; I am not able to ride other ten miles," cried she. " Indeed ladies I was just come to press you to pot-luck," said Montague, half terrified by the impetuous spirits ot the young lady. Sir Archibald and Mr. Mansel have just sent Monimia a present of game, and invited themselves to a late dinner. They are noV on Machrymoor ?" " Lard ! then we won't stay," said Miss Gordon, her eyes brightening ; — but Miss Sin- clair was peremptory; — and Miss Gordon " knew there was no peace with Sinclair unless A NATIONAL TALE. 9 she had her own way ; — so it was useless to contend." Again Monimia was " obliged and ho- noured 5r and she turned her dark eye, full of arch meaning, on the face of Norman. — " Odious customs of the world, 1 ' thought he. Till the hour of dinner Maria rattled, sung, laughed, and caressed her dear Mrs. Mon- tague : Miss Gordon languished ; and Miss Sinclair, who s eemed a very managing per- son, attended Mr. Montague to view his pigs, poultry, dairy, and wool-loft. At a pretty early hour for a fowler Sir Archibald was announced ; and Norman saw the man who had first made his young heart throb with anguish. He was a man between thirty and forty ; of fashionable appearance, and formed manners. In England he affected the Highland Chieftain ; in the country the man of fashion, — one who knew life, and loved to enjoy it. His history and character was that of hundreds in England ; in the High- lands it was summed up in few words ; — " He has put out fifty smokes" — His attention was solely directed to Monimia, yet he found time to examine her friend with the eye of a critic in female beauty ; and Flora's meek face sunk under his undaunted gaze. 10 CLAN-ALBIN, At dinner the rustic Norman found that what we shall eat, and what we shall diink, were objects of very great importance. Sir Archibald was eloquent in praise of veal, mutton, and poultry, of Montague's rearing, and fattening; and forgot even the attractions of his lovely hostess, while he pounced upon moor-game, " cruelly spoiled by a beast of a cook." Mr. Mansel displayed equal science ; but Miss Sinclair, though she agreed that the mutton was most delightful; the veal enchant- ing ; and the turkey, quite a wonder of a tur- key ; begged to be forgiven, if she owned, that after all, for a family dinner, there was nothing to her taste " like a plain, substantial roast joint." — Norman involuntarily smiled as she turned to see the effect of her observa- tion on her host. " Gad Sir Archy," whispered Mansel, — that is a good hit at the pin-money. Do give poor old Sinclair a hitch." Montague had now got his mouth empty, — " You are quite right Ma'am, — nothing like it, — Will you chink a glass of wine with me Miss Sinclair? — Upon my honesty you are a very sensible sort of a person. And don't you think now, that for supper, — instead of your A NATIONAL TALE. llf pastry and fruit, — a slice of cold meat left from dinner, " Monimia saw and pitied the dilemma to which he was reducing the politic lady, and smilingly interrupted him. — " I shall not trouble Miss Sinclair to decide against me," said she, — " I plead guilty : at least I own it is much better to those who think so." Montague was not in the habit of taking much wine, and the gentlemen soon entered the drawing-room. They found Miss Gordon reclining ; Maria fluttering about, and charm- ing with all her might ; Flora with a tam- bourine, and Monimia quietly seated at the piano-forte. Miss Sinclair hung over her chair, as much enchanted with her rondo, as with her brother's plain joint. Miss Gordon was reported as a wonderful performer : and the possessor of a wonderful voice ; and after an abominable affectation of reluctance, she played and sung. The other ladies followed ; and the vanity or ill-nature of Monimia was engaged to display the talents of her neglected friend. Flora sung Scottish airs with uncommon sweetness, truth, and feeling : she had learned as much music as to be able to accompany her voice ; and 12 CLAN-ALBIN, glad to escape the pain of being solicited, she sat down, though her eyes reproached Monimia. She sung the " Lone Vale ;" and Mansel, — a good-natured coxcomb, whom the smart uniform of a dragoon regiment had transformed into a hero, — Mansel declared himself charmed. He had both a heart and an ear for music, and his taste, by all who pretended to taste, was allowed to be ex- quisite. " Aye," said Monimia, beaming with tri- umph, — " We scientific folks are fairly eclipsed here ; — the woods breed nightin- gales." " Faith Belle," said Mansel, turning to Miss Gordon, — " you must throw all your music into the fire. This is a million times better than your flourishing bravura." — Miss Gordon had sung a fashionable bravura song. Miss Gordon, and her sister were portion- less ; but they had beauty and blood ; and their aunt in her zeal to extend and strengthen the family connexions, by their establishment, had speculated on accomplishments to the very bottom of her purse. Their music-master was the most fashionable in London. It was not wonderful that Miss Gordon pouted. A NATIONAL TALE. 13 " Pray who is this little siren ?" said Man- sel, in a loud whisper to Miss Sinclair. Flora lost all the brief reply, but — " of a poor school-master ; — but Miss Gordon has dropped her glove." — The glove lay for Mansel. "Whew I" whistled he,—" Blood !— who cares for blood now, but in a horse. Youth and beauty are all in all." — This respectful observation explained the speech of Miss Sinclair. " What charming spirits l" said Miss Sin- clair, — " I wish our sweet Bella could share in them. Poor dear girl she is just pining off her feet ; — oh you men ! you men (" " The stale farce of falling in love," thought Mansel. But still secretly flat- tered with the conquests of his eyes, he looked to the sweet love-lorn Bella, and would have probably returned to his alle- giance, had he not been haughtily repulsed. He entreated Flora to sing, and Miss Gordon ordered her horse. She was " already too late, and to remain for the night was impos- sible ?" Sir Archibald remonstrated, her sister fretted, the perennial smile of Miss Sinclair fled, and Mansel, in the hope of remaining, VOL, II. c 14 CLAN-ALBIX, was all humility ; but the lady was inflexible. Sir Archibald could not permit his sister to go home unattended, but as he strode past he whispered in her ear. u Miss Gordon, if you fancy ill-humour will promote your interests you are damnably wrong. Learn to control that imperious temper... Believe me you cannot afford to keep it." The eyes of the lady flashed, and her cheeks glowed; while her sister and Miss Sinclair — who quickly repaired her smiles, — tried to engage Mrs. Montague to return the visit. Monimia formed many excuses, but Montague promised for them both. The eyes of Maria discoursed eloquently to Norman, Mansel kissed the glove of Flora, Sir Archibald bowed on the hand of Monimia, and, to the joy of all three, the party were at last mounted and out of sight. The spirits of Monimia rose as their figures lessened. She locked up the piano-forte, tossed away the music books, and by greater softness of manners than slie had ever dis- played, sought to indemnify Norman for the chagrins of the day. In their twilight saunter he found her arm within his own. When they parted her hand slid into his. Sir A NATIONAL TALE. 15 Archibald indeed had taken, and held that hand •> but he fancied her look more soft and touching, her manner more quiet ; and these observations began to be interesting. With a short quick sigh he saw her leave the beach, where he embarked with Flora. It was now the latter end of August ; the weather was uncommonly fine, and the pre- ceding rains had preserved the lively verdure of early spring. Norman requested Hugh to call him by sunrise next morning, and proposed a very long excursion among the hills. " We shall see darling," said Hugh ; and next morning he found that the Piper and the skiff had both disappeared. All day he was kept an impatient prisoner on Eleenalin. About six o'clock Hugh appeared, seemingly so satisfied with himself, that Norman knew not how to be otherwise. " If the Lady would have no objection that I should row herself and the family to the isle of the Druid," said Hugh, " the night is so lovely." The lady had no objection ; and attended by Moome, Flora, and Norman, she entered the skiff, without perceiving the knowing looks of the Piper. 16 CLAN-AUBIN, The isle of the Druid, or as it was some- times called, the isle of the Beal-tien, was an islet in the mouth of a bay of the lake. It was very small, but finely wooded, and adorned with a strand of beautiful white pebbles. Many ancient superstitions have now dwindled down into infantine observances. Beltane is not kept in any part of the High- lands ; but on May-day the children light fires in sequestered spots, and cook little feasts of eggs, with which they treat each other, and which they proudly spread before their friends. Eggs are dressed in every form, and every good woman in the country contributes to the long gathered store. In a lawn recess of the isle of the Druid, Norman in his boyhood had annually lighted his fire, and spread his fairy banquet before the Ladv, Moome, Mary, his nurse, and other friends. The great stones still lay scattered about, which had formed their seats. On this islet Monimia, who had never ven- tured to invite the Lady to Dunalbin, pro- posed to receive her visits. By the assistance of the Piper, and her servant, a little hut had been reared of birch and willow twigs, inter- A NATIONAL TALE. 17 woven with fresh heath. It was in the form of a rude pavilion, open to the side of Eleen- alin, and supported by pillars of silver-barked birch, the foliage of which was not yet faded. Hugh had worked late and early with the ar- dour of a brownie ; the seats of wattled work, covered with skins of wild-deer, were the labour of his hands, and the whole was happily accomplished in profound secrecy ; for Norman, who had viewed its progress, was too good-natured to see any thing. The Piper had laid in a store of turf, lighted a fire, and left Monimia and Mary Fitzconnal mak- ing tea, coffee, and spreading their rustic board with cake and sweetmeats. A blue smoke was discovered rising among the wood in the isle of the Druid, and as the boat approached a fairy Naiad was seen to fly from the strand. Hugh feigned ignorance, the better to enjoy the raptures of his friends ; and when the grand discovery was made, the exclamations of Moome, the delight of Flora, the benevolent smiles of the Lady, and the laughing eyes of Norman abundantly repaid the effort which silence had cost. " This is charming !" cried Flora, — " it reminds one of the Elysium at Clarens. We C 2 18 CLAN-ALBIN, only want lovers to sigh in that sylvan bower, and nightingales to sing among the bushes." " Lovers we do not want," said Monimia gaily, — " I am certain we are all very sincere lovers ; only instead of sighing we shall laugh ; and my kind Moome shall be our nightin- gale." ' " That I will ; darling creature," replied Moome, — u you shall have the whole of * The Maid of Duart,' this night, in this sweet shealing." " Apropos !" cried Flora, — " what shall we call it?" " The Grotto of Calypso," said Norman. " And whether will the Piper or you be my Telemachus ?" " I must not be judge in my own cause," replied Norman smiling. She looked to Hugh. " With your leave darling, I'll be any thing you please," said the good-natured Piper, who knew nothing about Telemachus. " I am sure Hush that is very kind of vou : and when I turn Calypso you shall be my Telemachus : — but what savs Flora r" " The Temple of Friendship," replied Flora. " Grot'oes and Temples !" cried Monimia, — " Nonsense ! I dislike fictions of sentiment A NATIONAL TALE. 19 of all kinds. Why not love a ' heath sheal- ing,' as well as a pompous temple, or a sen- timental grotto. When the eloquent enthu- siast, to whom Flora alluded, makes his Julia parade her Elysium, her Saloon of Apollo, her Burgundy, and her Rhenish, I think he is guilty of a capital sin against the simplicity he professes to adore. I could call my birch wine Madeira, nay Imperial Tokay, but I am certain Hugh would love it much better, called merely what it is, — the birch wine of Glenalbin." " Yes, by Mary, and that I would darling," said Hugh, — -" sweet it is, and good no doubt for women and childer ; yet, by your leave, for my own taste, " and he hesitated. " Aye !" said Norman, smiling significantly while he turned to Monimia, — " Well, the conclusion is, that a man of simplicity, and unsophisticated sentiment, prefers whisky to the birch wine of Glenalbin." " Most lame and impotent conclusion," cried Monimia, protesting against the unfair- ness of this inference. " Don't heed their laugh my love," said Lady Augusta, — " You were quite right. Among all your amiable qualities, I must ad- 20 CLAN-ALBIN, mire the cheerful good sense which distin- guishes your manner of thinking. I like to hear things called by their true names ; it i.s no inconsiderable proof that they are esti- mated by their real value, we shall adopt Moome's name ; — ' Monimia' s Shealing,' — and prize it, because it is hers, beyond all the temples and grottoes in the annals of senti- ment." Every one could appreciate the delicate kindness to which this sylvan hut owed its erec- tion. " Monimia has triumphed 1" cried Norman, as he placed her at the head of her rustic board, more lovely than all the god- desses of story ; her eyes beaming kindness, her cheeks glowing with rosy confusion, and her young heart throbbing with innocent plea- sure. At table the conversation again reverted to Rousseau. In France Lady Augusta had seen, admired, and pitied, that " wise wretch." — Insensibly she began to speak of that period of her life ; the party became thoughtful and sad. " Let us dismiss this topic," said the Lady, — M my Monimia deserves to be more power- ful than the Eastern Seged. He commanded, A NATIONAL TALE. 21 but she invites, her friends to be happy. On some future evening I will tell my young friends the story of my early life. The time may come when it will be useful, — but it can- not be twice told." Moome, who had listened with intense anxiety to these observations, saw that a cloud was gathering on the spirits of the party. " Now darling, with your leave, I shall sing you l The Maid of Duart,' " said she to Monimia, — " and as I am fond to suppose the Piper will be thinking of digging the roots of the water-lily for my own dying, I will not begin till he goes." Hugh, who had been the attendant on the party, smiled as he laid down his pipe, and repaired to the strand, to make war on the lovely flower which adorns " the mountain- circled lochs." " Then I will follow," said Norman, — " and St. Peter to speed ! bring you trout for supper more exquisite than that of the Lake of Ge- neva." " If you are cruel enough to catch it, you may" eat it," cried Monimia gaily, — " for I will not be your Julia, " and abruptly stopping, she blushed the deepest crimson. 22 CLAN-ALBIN, " Well l M said Norman, pursuing her meaning and her downcast eyes with a smile of tender archness, hut a palpitating heart, — li You will not he my Julia ; — what then ?" " I mean that I cannot understand the superfine sentiment of permitting a harmless creature to be catched and tortured for amuse- ment ; and then, but I am sure you re- member the sentimental scene to which I allude." " I have often heard ladies accused of catching and torturing harmless animals for mere amusement," replied Norman laughing. — " But you would kill them outright, — would you r " O ! you know what I mean ; — but High- landers are privileged to dream dreams, and use similitudes," cried Monimia, with her usual vivacity, — " but I have a plain English understanding ; and my brother, to whom you promised the fish, a plain English stomach. So march ; — trout is better than senti- ment." He went away ; Lady Augusta smiled, but a melancholy idea entered her fancy, — " I must tell them my story," thought she. Moome seated herself on the turf at the A NATIONAL TALE. 23 feet of her ancient lady, and resumed the distaff, which accompanied all her walks. " With your leave, my darling, the Lady herself will explain the deep Gaelic of the song. Many in the countries themselves do not understand that dearest j so no fault to you." In the Highlands there is but one sort of literature (if it may be so called) for the vassal and his Lord. Every class utters the same sentiments, clothed in the same words, and expressed in the same accent. There are no Milton s and Popes for the tasteful and ■educated ; and ballads, " Proverbs," and " Seven Champions," for the vulgar. Hence an identity of tastes and attainments, which, however lowly the condition, elevates the in- tellectual being to the level of the highest ; and induces the ennobling consciousness of equality with all that is really exalted. Though the beauties of Gaelic poetry are by no means quaint, or metaphysical, they do not always lie on the surface. In fine perception, and lively sensibility to a feli- citous image, or a delicate trait of sentiment, the vassal may indeed excel his Lord, from 24 CLAN-ALBIN, having studied more profoundly that figura- tive, bold, and epithetical language, technically termed deep Gaelic, which Moome now re- quested her lady to explain. " And my little Mary will, I hope, be per- mitted to listen ?" said Monimia, — " She has given a noble proof of strength of mind, in keeping the secret of the Druid's isle ; and if she did tear all her frocks carrying heath to the Piper, the wish to oblige is always amiable ; and I am certain she will mend them very neatly." " Indeed, indeed she will," said Moome u A warm-hearted darling creature she is ? God bless her I" — and Moome began her descant, which is thus translated. A NATIONAL TALE. 25 THE MAID OF DUART, A BALLAD. PART I. List ! Ladye list my roundelay, A tale of love, a tale of woe, While sad I tell what erst befel The blue-eyed maid, and young Lochawe. The merry barge-men raise the sail, Light bounds the bark from Oban's bay, And dancing in the summer gale, Skirts the grey rocks of Kerrara. * " With sounding horn and sweeping harp, " With vassals shout and pibrochs blow, * The places alluded to in this Ballad form a fine tract of mountainous scenery, stretching along both sides of the Sound of Mull. VOL. II. D ,2G CLAN-ALBJN, " The Duart hails thee at his (rate, * n Thou gallant Chief of green Lochawe.-} " Peace dwells m blue-eyed Moina's bower, u The battle's din has ceased afar, ct With dark-haired Fillan's hardy clan f No more w r e wage the mountain war. " Strike ! strike the harp thou aged bard, " Till floats his war-fame high in air, u Welcome to Duart's bannered hall M Brave Chieftain of the raven hair." Sweet Moina, Duart's lovely heir, Sat lonely in her bower, Swift she descends, and graceful bend>, As Fillan reached the tower. ? But that Lady shrieking fell, While her frantic cries and her agoni* - The guilty secret tell. Shivered and shook her tender frame, All as she bended low, With a mothers pain, but.a virgin's stain Gave a keener mental throe. They hied them to an ocean-cave, Loud blew the wind and high, O the tempest's rave, and the wild sea wave, Drown'd Moina's wailing cry J The sea wave drown'd her wailing cry, And her sireless babe was born, While his false father's bridal blaze Ruddied the hills of Lorn. " O list, O list thou sad Ladye, " Thine infant's feeble cry, " O look on Fillan's raven hair, M On Muina's dark-blue eve." " And this to me, thou hoary wretch ! ° I boast the Duart's blood, " And by Mary's might, this infant wight "Shall sink in the roaring flood! " How should I tame my haughty soul " The vassal scorn to bear, A NATIONAL TALE. 33 " How shrink beneath the scowling glance " Of low-born Lowlander. " How should I blanch thine aged cheek, " Thou brave grey-headed man, " How live accursed the foul reproach " Of bold Clangillian. " Not mine to lower a guilty eye, " To bide the brand of shame, — " Oh God ! to brook the taunting look " Of Fillan's wedded dame !" " Christ give thee peace thou sad Ladye, " Anol thy soul to bless redeem ! " Oh Fillan's blood with the Duart's good, " Rolls here in a mingling stream." - " Nay stint thee, stint thee prating nurse, •' Or dread my maddening ire, " Would that the hated infant heaped " False Fillan's bridal fire ! " Then turn thee, turn thee feeble wretch, " Hurl it into the wave ; " False Fillan's hair! — nay, stint that prayer, m Not Heaven itself shall save." " O kiss thou first his baby lip, u O cross his baby brow ; " And bless him in our Ladye's name, " So keep thy desperate vow." 34 CLAX-ALBIN, She clasped the baby to her brea They were for aye to part, And the flood-tide of a mother's love Came rushing o'er her heart. O who may trace the emotions wild On that pale face which play, As lustres in a northern sky Flash, — flicker, — start away, " Son of my love ! son of my hate, " My pride, my curse, my joy, " Die all that may, live all that can, " My child, thou shalt not die I " A long farewell my aged Moome, " My blessing's all my fee, " Sweet Heaven thee speed in the hour of neecf, " As thou hast done by me." She's clasped the baby to her breast. And as spirit swift she past From that eerie cave, where the wild sea wave Sung to the midnight blast. O short her flight, at the beacon height She sunk on a mossy stone, Her last to gaze while morning's rayi On Duart's castle shone. " Farewell ! farewell ! .my father's hall ; " Farewell my mother'* bower, A NATIONAL TALE. 35 '* My lofty hopes, my mountain joys, " My maiden pomp and power. ** No more in Duarl's festal halls u Shall Moina's steps be found, " Oh never shall thy echoing walls H Ring to my wild harp's sound!" Weeping and wild the vassal train Search cave, and cliff) and lonely grove; Bui vain, — 'twas said the blue-eyed maid Had wandered with a fairy love. By moonlight from the haunted hill, A magic harp was heard to moan, And starts the lated mountaineer At fleeting wraith, and ghastly groan. Three times was heard the fated din, Fleet Ewan's charger thundering past,* Three times the sprite a cronach yelled, Then shrieking fled in rattling blast. * " Fleet Ewan's charger;" this superstition is connected with the family of Maclaine Lochbuy, rather than that of Maclean Duart. Ewan-caen-beg, or " Hugh with the little head," is supposed to be an ancestor of the family of Loch- buy. Before the death of any of his numerous descendants he is still heard thundering past their dwellings about mid- night. The noise of Ewan's horse is easily distinguished, as he is shod with iron, a formality which is never observed with the small horses of the islands. 3C CLAN-AIOJIN, The Seer has seen a phantom train, Where round Inch-Keunrth breakers roll ;, Iona's monks have masses said Three times for JMoina's parted soul. Now sad ihe Duart takes the field, Reckless the hero bownes him home, What eye shall watch his far approach, O, who to give him welcome come ! Fled, ever fled the joyous days, When blooming beauteous Moina ran, To hail her Chieftain's glad return, To swell the triumphs of her clan. How proudly heaved her maiden breast, What glories filled her flashing eye, When sweeping down the mountain's bent, That conquering clan would homeward hie. Her heart leapt to the targets clank, Her foot sprung to the pibroch'* swell, How richly glowed her lovely cheek, The triumphs of her sire to tell. Now sad the Duart seeks his tower, No daughter smiles the loved reward, Where hovered late the aerial form, A sullen warder rounds his guard A NATIONAL TALE, 37 PART III. O who is she, that frantic maid, Skims over moss, and moor, and dale> Hark ! as her shriek of wild despair, Rung the grey rocks of Scallasdale. * A currach rocks in ocean-cave, Desperate she starts the glancing oar, Lists but the impulse of despair, And madly rushes from the shore. v > O softer yet thou southern breeze, That flitt'st through Morven's green fwood bowers, O smoother yet thou cresting wave, That bear'st the maid of Duarf s towers. Where hast thou wandered, woful maid, ( Where do thy tears in secret fall, Whose beamy glance, and frolic dance, Were late the joy of Duart's hall. Deep in Glen Billart's dreary glen, The hunter views an Arrie low, * Scallasdale is a romantic pastoral spot on ,the coast of Mull, where the Sound, only two miles in breadth, divides it from Morven. It is the paternal farm of Captain JL. . M. who fell so bravely in the field of Maida. VOL. II. E 3& CLAN-AXRIN, Oh, there her sireless babe she tend-, Poor victim of the false Lochawe. Gloomy and ghast, an eerie wild, The hill-fox howls round Moina's bower, The yelling- eagle rears its brood, With her, the heir of Duart's tower. Poor wretch ! how tamed thy maiden pride. How haggard wild the dark -blue eye, The blasted heath thy couch — thy board. The berries of the hill supply. * O softly sleep my baby boy, , fi Rocked by the mountain wind, " Thou dream'st not of a lover false. " Or a world all unkind. a