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But ne'er his marriage would confess “ Thou liest, thou dog! Darest thou To one of all the jocund mess,

deny Save her own brother, from whose hand I witness'd with mine ear, mine eye, He got the flower of fair Scotland Thy interchange of marriage vow ? A proud and haughty youth was he, The ring is on her finger now, As Highland captain needs must be. The lines of marriage in her breast;

The army's ordered by the crown And this dire wrong must be redressid To foreign lands, to earn renown, To that dear maid, or, by the rood, And all are forced, howe'er inclin'd, I'll cancel't in thy traitor blood To leave their Highland loves behind. For thy soul's worth this truth deny." Mora prepared at break of day

This Campbell's fierce and proud reply: To follow ber dear lord away,

But ere the half of it was said, Wherever call’d to face a foe,

Mora had sunk to earth as dead; Or honour beckon'd him to go ;

She heard its import, saw its meed, But by the General was withstood, And all the woe that would succeed. And ordered with her sisterhood.

Young Campbell, by affection tied, Up came young Campbell of the glen, Was quickly at his sister's side, Fierce as a lion from his den,

And aided by his kiosmen keen, In mood provoking stern reply,

He bore her lifeless from the green. And fierce defiance in his eye:

Sir Hugh was moved, and struggled bare “ My lord,” said he, “I may not bear 'Twixt insult and sincere regard, Such court'sy to my sister dear.

And would have follow'd, to his harm, Think'st thou her birth and lineage good, but was withheld by strength of arm. The best of Albyn's noble blood,

The Scot to reason did not try, No better than that motley race

As deep his wrong his wrath was high. Brought by thy kinsmen to disgrace? As for the General, 'twas his will I tell thee, lord, unto thy brow,

Always to use the clansmen ill ; My sister's biglier born than thou; He seem'd to view them as a race And more, she is thy nephew's spouse, Destined for nothing but disgrace, By all the holy marriage vows

And therefore tried with all his care Wed with a ring-his lawful wife,

To hound the dog and hold the hare. I the maintainer with my life.”

The dire event I grieve to tell ; “ Hence to thy post, thou saucy Scot, They challenged, fought, and Campbell Thy brigh descent I question not;

"fell; Nay, doubt not that thy sires renown'd And ere poor Mora's beauteous eye Were mighty kings, revered and crown'd, Re-open'd on the morning sky, O'er some poor glen of slaggy wood, Ere reason had her throne resumed, Before the universal flood;

And darken'd intellect return'd, But this I know', that blood of thine Her only brother, her sole shield, Commingle never shall with mine,

Was carried wounded from the field, To taint it with rebellion's ban,

With all his tartans crimson-dyed,
Thy nation's curse since time began. And stretch'd down by his sister's side.
The charge is false I know Sir Hugh This was a trial too severe
Not for his soul this thing durst do For youth and beauty well to bear;
Without my knowledge and consent; And that same day the English bost
He would not stoop to circumvent March'd off, and hope of love was lost;
A beauteous maiden to disgrace-

And Mora's young elastic mind,
I'll question him before her face.” Brisk as Glen-Lyon's balmy wind,

Up came Sir Hugh, and took his stand And placid as the evening's fall Hard by his General's trembling hand; On the green bowers of Fortingall, He heard his words, and saw his look, Was all at once, before its prime, While Campbell with resentment shook, In misery plunged without a crime. And Mora stood as deadly pale

I know of no such deadly smart As floweret in December's gale;

To fall on maiden's bleeding heart. Sooth the young warrior bore a mind When the Almighty's sacred sway Not to be envied or defined.

Calls our dear bosom friends away, "Sir, tell me, on your word, your life. There is a cause we calm should be, Is this young dame your wedded wife?" A reverence due to the decree

Sir Hugh grew wan, Sir Hugh grew red, A holy awe that swathes the past He tried to speak, but speech bad fled; And present, dark and overcast, Three times he tried the truth to own, Both in a glorious futute light, And thrice the word he gulped down; Eternal, infinite, and bright; Then with a burst of gather'd breath, And thus our deepest sorrow given "No," he replied, as if in wrath,

Is mingled with a ray of heaven.

But when affection all and whole And left her guardian and her shield
The very pillars of the soul,

A-bleeding on Boleskine field,
Are placed on one sole being here, From thence, in fortune ill or good,
For whom alone this life is dear,

He was a man of alter'd mood-
To find that one our trust betray,

A man who only seem'd to take
And all our hopes in ruin lay-

A thought of life for sorrow's sake,
Then 'reaved, astonish'd, and forsaken, Fought but to mitigate his wo,
The structure of the soul is shaken, And gloried not in friend or foe.
Without one prop whereon to rest,

Three years of fierce and bloody feud
That will not pierce the stooping breast, Produced a transient quietude,
Or thought of one beloved so well, And brave Sir Hugh's diminish'd corps
Unshaded by a tinge of hell;

Returned to England's welcome shore. This is a grief without remede

Meanwhile his son on Highland brae, This, this is wretchedness indeed ! By one more relative's decay,

In this dire state of dumb dismay Succeeded had, by birth allied, And hopeless grief, for many a day, To fair Glen-Lyon far and wide, Of every cheering ray bereft,

To castle, peel, and barbican, Was Mora of Glen-Lyon left.

The greatest laird of all his clan. She never waked one morn to cumber, Why does fair Mora of the wild On which she wish'd not still to slumber; Thus deck herself and comely child, She never sunk that night to rest,

Not in Clan-Campbell's tartans sheen, On which she wish'd not to be blest The red, the yellow, and the green, With dreamless sleep that break should But in new robes of southern hue, never,

Pale garments of cerulean blue; Unknown, unknowing ought for ever. And daily take a stand sublime, In that fond heart where love had Like meteors of a foreign clime? reigned,

Ask not again-thou know'st full A vacancy alone remain'd,

well, A dreary void, which to supply

Nought of this world in which we dwell, Nothing remain'd beneath the sky; No fault nor failing, time nor space, For with the husband of her youth, Can woman's maiden love efface. His sacred honour and his truth,

It blossoms, still a virgin gem, Vanish'd her hope, her fear, her all. And offspring strengthens still the stem. But yet, at pity's gentle call,

Sooner may maiden fresh and fair Some kind emotions woke anew;

Forget her locks of flowing hair, She to her suffering brother flew,

That, heaving with her balmy breath, Yielded to nature's kindred sway,

To lover's heart throws shaft of death ; And nursed and soothed bim night and Sooner neglect its crescent bow day;

And shed oblique above the brow, Nor once produced unwelcome theme, And all her charms aright to set, By mention of her husband's name. Than once an early love forget ;

Home to Glen-Lyon's lonely glade, Nay, sooner may maternal love The wounded warrior was convey'd, A truant to her nature prove, And after tedious illness borne,

And her betrothed affections flee Dejected, wearied, and outworn,

The infant smiling on her knee, He yielded up his spirit brave,

Than she can from her heart dethrone And sunk to an untimely grave.

The father of that lovely one. And just before his life's last close, Even when poor Mora's heart was rest Glen-Lyon's flower, her faded rose, Of all-still sovereign love was left. Wept o'er a young and helpless guest, And now she thought-what could she And nursed him on her youthful breast

do A lovely babe; he throve and grew, But ween her husband still was true; Prattled, and smiled, and nothing knew And, when in freedom, would not fail Of all his mother's yearnings strong, To seek Glen-Lyon's Highland dale, And all her deep and deadly wrong. Where counts would soon have been

Sir Hugh, with feelings rack'd and torn, made even, And spirit wounded and forlorn,

And all forgotten and forgiven. At all the ills his hand had wrought, He sent not-came not once that way; And conduct with dishonour fraught, Though many a weary hour and day, Was hurried by his General far,

She and the boy of her delight .To combat in a foreign war,

Stood robed in southern garments bright, And hold command in that campaign With anxious eyes straining intent. • That ravaged Alsace and the Rhine. South from the highest battlement.

But from that day he first denied · Then every night she dreamed anew, His youthful wife in warrior pride, Of meeting with her owá Sir Hugh;

And every day she took her stand, . The effect was instant, powerful,
And look'd unto the southern land;

strong,
While every time she kissed her boy, Without the force of right or wrong
A mother's pride, a mother's joy, To rectify or countervail;
Waked ardent longings to attain

Once more was heaved the loaded Sight of his father once again.

scale, Her heart could brook no more delay, And all the world unto a shred, And southward on a dubious way, Love-sovereign love-preponderated. She with her boy disguised is gone O there was something in her air, By land, by sea, they journey'd on, So comely, so divinely fair, And soon arrived with purpose shrewd, So fraught with beauty's genial glow, Mid London's mingled multitude, Like angel dream'd of long ago, Where straight she went in courtly style, That all his energies of mind To Lady Ella of Argyle, *

To this dear object were confined ! And there did secretly impart

He durst not think of former spouse, Each wish and purpose of her heart. Nor dream of former broken vows, That lady welcomed her the more Because, without this lady, he As all her wrongs she knew before, Found life was utter misery. And oft had wish'd most fervently, Unto Argyle all was unknown ; A mediatrix there to be,

The lady Ella knew alone. Though, certes, little did she ween But he, good man, was to his end, Her friend was beauty's peerless queen. A Campbell's best and firmest friend :

What scope for matron's subtle aid ! And judging this a proffer fit, Their potent measures soon were laid; He urged the beauty to submit. And forth came Mora of the glen, No-she had reasons indirect Amid a wilderness of men

A southron always to suspect; All gazing-all entranced outright, And unto one should never yield, At her resplendent beauty bright;

Till bonds and contracts, siga'd and For no such loveliness or worth,

seal'd, As this fair vision of the North,

Were all made firm in liege and land, Had e'er been seen by mortal man, And lodged in good Duke Archibald's Or heard of since the world began.

hand; The lady took her friend so fair,

Then lothly did she yield consent To balls, assemblies, everywhere;

To vows of love so vehement, And sooth she was a comely sight, And they were wed in princely style, In silken tartans blazing bright,

Within the palace of Argyle. A comet of bedazzling ray,

If brave Sir Hugh loved well before, A rainbow in a winter day

This time was added ten times more; A meteor of the frozen zone,

'Twas as if love had raised its head As bright in course as quickly gone. In resurrection from the dead, For purpose justified and plain,

And fix'd on being all supreme, The lady surnamed her M'Vane,

Like something in a long-lost dream,
Her husband's name, though unperceived, And with an energy intense,
Torough Scottish breviat interweaved. As far surpassing mortal sense,
Then every day the clamour spread, He loved, as blessed spirits prove,
Of this unrivali'd Highland maid,

When meeting in the realms above.
And every day brought wooers store, The joy that ligbten'd in her eye,
In splendour to Duke Archibald's door; Was watched by his with ecstasy;
But all advances soon were check'd On every accent of her tongue
By distant coldness and respect,

His ravished ear enraptured bung; And lords and courtiers sued in vain And sometimes as its Highland twang To the unparagon'd M‘Vane.

Out through his vitals thrilling rang, Sir Hugh, so dull and saturnine,

It seem'd to bring a pang of woe,
Chanced to behold, without design, And tears would all unbidden flow,
In all her elegance unfurl'd,

As linked, in some mysterious way,
This streamer of the northern world; With visions of a former day.
For there were many movements sly, But faithless lover never pass'd
To bring her to his languid eye,

Without due chastening at the last;
Which no inducement could invite And grievous penalties in store
To look on lady with delight.

Were lurking now Sir Hugh before.

• This was not the Duchess of Argyle, who had died previously to this adventure; but the Lady Elizabeth Campbell, or Ela, as the Duke called her familiarly, who then lived with him,

lost,

One eve, when rung the dinner bell, If she's a wife, I her forego,
His lady was announced unwell;

To censures fitting thereunto;
And worse, on some mysterious plea, And if a mistress, must disclaim
Firmly refused his face to see.

All union with her bloated Dame; The warrior was astonish'd quite,

For though I love her more than life, His senses seem'd involved in night, She ne'er can be my lady wife : As if he struggled, conscience-check’d, Unto the Duke's awards I bow, Some dire offence to recollect,

I know this deed he'll disallow.” But could not all its weight perpend, Unto Duke Archibald straight he went, Nor its dimensions comprehend;

His grievous injuries to vent; His spirit shrunk within his frame, Who heard him with his known degree He watch'd the eye of noble dame, Of calm respect and dignity: And saw with dreadour and with doubt, Then said, " I take no blame in ought, A flame enkindling him about,

The comely dame my sister brought That would his heart or honour sear; Unto my halls, as courtly guest, But yet he wist not what to fear; And she's incapable of jest. He moved about like troubled sprite, If this fair dame you have espoused, And rested neither day nor night; Hath our high name, and you, abused, For still his darling, his espoused, I give her up without defence, All access to her lord refused;

To suffer for her fraudulence. At length he sought, in rueful style, Let officers attend, and bear. The stately Ella of Argyle.

Her to a jail, till she appear “Madam, by all the holy ties,

In court, and this sad blame remove; Which none knew more than thou to I hope her innocence she'll prove." prize,

The officers arrived in haste; By those endearments prized the most, Argyle went to his lovely guest, Which thou hast sigh'd for, gain'd, and To learn if she was not belied ;

But no one knew what she replied ; Tell me my doom. What is my crime ? For back he came in sullen mood, And why this painful pantomime? Without remark, evil or good, To know the worst will be relief

And seem'd resolved to consign From this exuberance of grief."

Mora to punishment condign. “ Sir Hugh, it grieves me much to be Ere her commitment was made The berald of perplexity,

out, But letters have arrived of late,

Sir Hugh, in choler and in doubt, That of injurious matters treat;

Pleaded to hear from her own mouth, This lovely dame, whom you have wed, Whate'er it was, the honest truth; Hath our kind guardianship misled; Then he, impassioned and uproosed, And is not seemingly the dame,

Made rank confusion more confused, Neither in lineage nor in name,

By raging on with stormy din, Which she assumed. They hold it true, Threatening Argyle and all his kins That she's a wife and mother too;

When lo! in manifest concern, That this is truth, I do not know, The Lady Ella, flush'd and stern, But reasons have to dread it so."

Came in, and with reproving look, Sir Hugh shed some salt tears of Accosted the astonished Duke. grief,

“ My Lord, your writ you may affere, Which brought more anguish than re- 'Tis well the officers are herelief,

For such an injury propense, And thought, as naturally he must, Such dark degrading delinquence, “I am a sinner! God is just!"

Ne'er proffer'd was by mortal man Then blazed he forth with storm and To lady of our kin and clan. threat,

Let the offence have judgment due !"To blaine the lady of deceit.

“ 'Tis my request,” replied Sir Hugh. • Madam,” said he, “ the lady came “ Yes, warrior ! vengeance shall be had Forth under your auspicious name; And for thy sake, we'll superadd, And who could deem deceitful wile, As said the prophet to the king, Used by the house of great Argyle ? Thou art the man bath done the thing. I to the Duke make my appeal;

My lord, the criminal malign, From all his princely honest zeal,

Is this high favourite of thine, I know he'll rid me of this shame,

Who hath us proffer'd that disgrace, So derogating to his name;

Which no effrontery can outface.

I! This lady was then the widow of her cousin, the Right Hon. Lord M.Kenzie, of Rosehaugh,

False the advice to us was brought “ O Lord!" he cried, in fervent way, 'Tis he the misery hath wrought

Then turn'd in manifest dismayUnto the lovely dame aggrieved,

“I'll go," said he, “ straight to the gate Whom late he from your hand received. I must not let the lady wait." Poor lady! rest of hope and fame, " No," cried Argyle, “ you 'scape not And all that was her rightful claim

so. My lord, believe it if you can,

Guards, keep the door, till once we know This bold Sir Hugh was married man How he himself of this can clear. Married for seven years before

Duncan, go bring the lady here." He came a wooer to your door."

Duncan bow'd low, and off he ran, “ I'll not believe," Argyle replied, A pliant and right joyful man“ That man alive durst have defied Deeming the lady sure of grace, Me to my face in such a way.

When brought before his master's face; Sir, this calumny gainsay,

For tartan'd dame from glen or isle, If thou the least respect wouldst claim Ne'er sued in vain to great Argyle. To noble warrior's honour'd name.”

In came young Mora, blushing deep, “ All false! All false, my lord, in faith," Fresh from Glen-Lyon's lordly steep ; Sir Hugh replied, with stifed breath. The healthful odours of the wild; “ A hoax, a fam your Grace to gall; Breathing around her and her child. To prove it. I defy them all."

Their fragrance came like freshening gale, "The proof, Sir Knight, shall soon be For grateful travellers to inhalebrought

Like kindred roses sweet and bland, Home to your heart, with vengeance Or wandering wind from fairy land. fraught.

The boy was robed like royal fay, Your former spouse, from Highland wood, In bold Clan-Gillan's bright arrayIs here in blooming lustihood;

Belted and plumed, the elfin smiled, And as appropriate garniture,

The phenix of his native wild ; And a kind welcome to secure,

Herself in the same robes bedight A sweet young family hath brought, She wore on her first bridal night, Wild as young cubs in forest caught When he she long had nursed in pain Whose thews and features are no shams, Led her unto the darksome fane, Whose carrot locks and kilted hams And gave her hand without a stain, The darkest secrets might betray,

And heart, never to change again, Were there no other 'mergent way, While torches glimmer'd dimly on She has call'd here in deep distress Boleskine's sacred altar-stone. Our fair friend's anguish you may guess; The astonish'd group stood moveless From this, what marvel can there be, That she denies your face to see?" And neither utter'd good nor ill.

Hast thou not seen the morning ray Such beauty, grace, and comely mould, Ascend the east with springing day, Said more than language ever told Now red, now purple, and now pale, For her and hers, Ere she'd begun The herald of the stormy gale ?

To speak some favour she had wonThou hast. Yet thou can'st never view But some resemblance that she bore, The dead blank look of brave Sir Hugh. Some unacknowledged likeness moreTwo wives at once to deprehend him- Even great Argyle, of tranquil mien, And Highland wives_The Lord defend And noted for perception keen, him !

Held no suspicion that the dame, Argyle was wroth, it might be seen, That comely mother, was the same Yet still preserved his look serene. Who queen of beauty rank'd the while He saw the guilty deed confess'd, In the emporium of our isle. By signs which could not be repress'd ; He was the first that silence broke. And studied in his lordly mind,

Taking her hand, these words he spoke : The sharpest punishment assign'd, “ Fair lady, I have heard a part When Duncan, with broad Highland face, of how much wrong'd and grieved thou Came with bow and “ Please her Grace,

art. Tere pe fine lhady at her gate,

What share I had by suit or sway,
Whose grhief of mhind pe very grheat; I'll rue until my dying day;
And pretty poy upon her hand,

But this I promise, that thy right
As was not porn in any land

Shall be as sacred in my sight Prave Highlander so prave and young, As thou of kindred had'st a claim, And spaiks in her own moter tongue ; And she an alien to our name: What shall her nainsel say or dboo ? Declare thy grievous wrongs erewhile, She cries to speak with prave Sir Hugh." And trust the issue to Argyle."

Sir Hugh then thought without a doubt “ My honoured liege, thy handmaid I, That evils compass'd him about.

And of M'Calan's lineage high,

still,

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