As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained her glowing cheek."Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth !"-And, at the word, Down kneel'd the Græme to Scotland's Lord. "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, And sought, amid thy faithful clan, HARP of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. T Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring END OF CANTO SIXTH. |