Glenalban

Preface

TnESE Poems, written in idle moments, were not meant for the world's gaze, nor was it thought that they would ever meet the eyes of the critic. They are " wayside flowei's f blossoms which, when freshly gathered, had charms for friends, at whose request they have been formed into a simple bouquet.

Contents

Introduction vii

Gleualban 9

To Annie— When Shall I Think of -Thee ? 89

Introduction

What spell enwraps my soul to-night, What dream, so fleeting yet so bright, Steak o'er me now, with magic power ? I yield me to this witching hour. With radiant beams the Queen of Night Bathes earth and sky with glorious light, O'er all a vigil seems to keep : Nature is hushed in tranquil sleep. As on the beauteous scene I gaze, My spirit dreams of other days. On the soft breezes seem to swell Voices, now remembered well j I see the friends of other years ; I feel again the hopes and fears Impetuous rush o'er heart and brain; I hear again a mournful strain. 'Twas l)ut a moment — all has flown ! I feel I am again alone.

Yet, 'mid the lustre of this night, My spirit seems to feel a light Flash o'er each sense, with subtile ray ; I yield me to the potent sway. Like lava, through my pulses dash A current, quick as lightning's flash — Promethean fire — it fills my soul ! Shall I the wondrous power control, vill INTRODUCTION.

From a lyre whose golden string Notes of sweetest music ring, Waking in the soul a power Which latent lay until this hour. Let the mystic essence fill Soul and brain, till at my will Visions, flights of fancy, rear Forms of beauty, which appear Glowing, yet material tooj.

Then onward pass in quick review, And, mingling with the pale moon's light, The lovely shadows fade from sight.

The night has softly passed away. And now we hail the dawn of day : The beauteous morn, from sleep awaking. Is from her locks the dew-drops shaking, And gently from her brow she raises The roseate veil. Around she gazes For a moment, sweet and tender, Then flashes out in regal splendor ! Mountain mists are floating lightly. Tree and flow'ret glistening brightly. Fresh from bath of crystal showers, Blushing in their fragrant bowers. Fairest of the Spring's sweet flowers, Decked in Nature's own adorning, Welcome in the rosy morning.

On the air the breath of flowers ; Songs of birds within the bowers j While, with the light of early day. The night's sweet visions pass away.

GLENALBAN.

I

The evening sun with golden ray Was speeding on his western way, Sinking behind the forest trees, Which lightly trembled in the breeze ; While gorgeous hues of every shade Tinted rocky cliff and glade. The forests, clothed in rich array, Proclaimed proud Autumn's regal sway — So lovely in this land of thine, Fair land of Western Caroline.

II

Low in the west a sea of fire Seemed blazing 'neath the mountain spire, Which, part illumined by the light, Stood out in bold relief ; while night High over all her sable mantle threw, Threat'ning to hide those beauties from the view.

III

The pale twilight has nearly gone, And night is swiftly coming on, 1*

When, on a cliff of lofty height,

Seen dimly in the fading light,

Two figures stand. Their anxious gaze

Is turned to note the fleeting rays

Of day's last beam ; and one, whose eyes

Flash as he looks from earth to skies ;

His lightning glance, devoid of fear.

Pierces the gloom. '^ Ho, Hubert, cheer !

Follow — I lead — no time to spare :

Here, down these rocks. Ho ! man, have care."

Then down the' cliff he springs, and with a bound,

Well pleased he seems at length to reach the ground.

lY.

" Our way lies yonder, by this path I ween, Though in this light it dimly can be seen ; Yet marked I well, when on yon cliff I stood, A mansion past the confines of the wood — - A noble edifice methought. I'll hie me there ; Perchance this night we may find rest and cheer. Fear not, good Hubert, follow where I lead ; As night is coming fast, let's make good speed." Thus spoke the youth, then onward quickly sped — The earth resounded with his martial tread — While Hubert, fain to keep up with his pace. Panted and puffed as if he ran a race.

Y.

" Most noble sir," he cried, " you go so fast That my poor strength will fail, it cannot last.

I nearly broke my neck four times to-day, Hurrying along this horrid mountain way ; Nor would I like to leave my humble bones Unburied 'mid these rude, unfriendly stones."

VI.

'^ Enough, good Hubert, cheer up ; see yon light, A beacon shines to guide us through the night. But little farther we have now to go j Then prithee do not look so full of woe. Hark ! list the baying of the hounds ; they know A stranger's step — it may be friend or foe. The faithful guardian of his master's grounds. By instinct taught, the warning note he sounds. 'Tis well : I now with certainty may say. That through this thicket surely lies our way. The end is nearly gained ; come, hurry on, Or thou wilt have to find the way alone."

VII.

'Tis night : yet through the gloom he sees A noble mansion, partly hid by trees, Within a large enclosure. 'Tis so late, More he knows not. He hastens to the gate. From round his neck a silver horn he drew, And blew a blast which rang the woodlands through. The wild notes sounded loud and shrill. And echoed far from hill to hill. On through the glade the bird of night Flew shrieking, seized with sudden fright.

The red deer, startled from his lair, Sprang out, and snuffed the evening air. The deep-mouthed hounds, a motley crowd, Drew near ; their yells were fierce and loud.

YIII.

The sound of voices meets the ear : In haste the servants soon appear With blazing torch in air held high. They scan the youth with curious eye. The foremost plied his whip with skill : Ere long the baying hounds were still. Then, while the gate he opened wide. Turned to the wanderers and cried, '^ If ye are strangers seeking cheer, My master bids ye enter here ; Ne'er from the wanderer willhe turn While life's bright lamp shall in him burn."

IX.

" My way I lost," the stranger cried, ^' When on yon mountain's farther side. Thanks for thy master's kindness shewn To one who is to him unknown." The lights flashed o'er the grassy lawn ; With stately air the youth walked on. He reached the mansion ; one was there, A man of frank and noble air. Who now advanced, the youth to meet. With friendly words he did him greet ;

Then, gazing on his face the while — ^^ My name is Maury." ^^ Mine is Malcolm Lyle.'^

X.

The lofty room was all ablaze with light, Upon the hearth the crackling logs glowed bright j Near sat a lady in the prime of life. The host presented Malcolm to his wife. Then to his daughters, lovely as the day, Young Lyle was next presented. Who can say What admiration and surprise Shone in his dark and lustrous eyes ? But quickly glancing at his dress, Maury full well his thoughts did guess, And, rising, bade him follow on. A moment — and they both had gone.

XI.

Ere long returned young Malcolm Lyle ) His face now wore a happy smile. Care, toil, fatigue were all forgot 5 He only blessed the happy lot Which led him to this friendly dome, Nor ever more he wished to roam. Those lovely maidens — blooming flowers Hidden thus 'mid Nature's bowers — In their young beauty, fair and bright, Had beamed upon his soul this night. Nature had lavished beauty rare

Upon these daughters. Wondrous, fair They seemed to Malcolm — and they were.

XII.

Lillian was tall and very fair, With locks of lovely auburn hair Braided 'round her beauteous head, Save here and there a ringlet strayed From 'neath a band, and, rippling on, Like molten gold with lustre shone. The soft, round cheek of roseate hue, The laughing eyes of violet blue. With long dark lashes, which but shaded The beauty which they only aided. And made the gentle Lillian seem Some fair creation of a dream.

XIII.

Young Grace was cast in beauty's mold ; Just nineteen summers she had told. Small was her stature ; fragile, fair, With locks of glossy raven hair. Which, falling down below her waist In curls, her perfect shoulders graced. Her liquid eyes of hazel seemed Like floating gems, and from them beamed A spell J yet little had she dreamed What witching power lay slumbering there j Little she seemed to know or care.

Those dark, impassioned eyes, whose light Flashed with a radiance pure and bright, And looked so free from earth and care That one might gaze forever there ; Till, changing to a tender sadness. One felt to gaze too long was madness. Her face, though not as Lillian's fair. Glowed with a tint more rich, more rare — The deepening hue, so soft, yet warm. Which added to her every charm. And marked the depths of soul and mine Where love and purity were shrined. A daughter of the South seemed Grace, Yet English she by birth and race.

XIY.

Time passed. The evening meal was o'er. Seated around the fire once more, A pleasant circle, cheery, bright. Was gathered there that Autumn night. The stranger youth seemed to forget He ne'er before his host had met. And many a pleasant tale recited Of how he oft had been benighted ] Yet ever found he rest and cheer With hospitable mountaineer.

He spoke of his far Scottish home, And why it was he had to roam. Business, which brooked of no delay,

Had brought him to America ; But ere he left Columbia's shore, He wished the Blue Ridge to explore. This beauteous land is bright and fair, Lofty her hills, her skies are clear ; Nature has crowned with richest green Those mountain heights, while low between, Her valleys spread out fair and wide. And streams flow on in crystal tide. Her mountains rich with golden ore ; Her fruitful fields yield bounteous store. " But, though in many lands," he cried, ^^ I oft have climbed the mountain side — Mountains upon whose rugged brow Was piled the ^ everlasting snow ^ — And gazed on scenes of beauty rare, To me they never could compare With Scotland's mountains, Scotland's hills. Her lovely lakes, her gushing rills j Though bleak her moors and cold her clime, More dear than all, that land of mine."

XY,

Then fired young Malcolm's eye ; his cheek Flushed deeper when he ceased to speak. His listeners marked his bearing high, His lofty brow, his flashing eye. Who was this youth, this stranger boy ? Thus Maury asked liimself — and why ?

This youth reminded him of one Whom he had seen in years long gone ; But when or where was now unknown.

XYI.

And so the evening hours sped on, Beguiled by converse, mirth, and song j For sweetly did the sisters sing, And blithely did the numbers ring Through the old halls, until so late 'Twas time that they should separate. Then all retired, well pleased, and bright. Wishing to each a fair ^' good- night."

XVII.

The moon had risen high and bright, Flooding the earth with glorious light. The air was still ; no balmy breeze Stirred through the dark old forest trees. Enchained in sleep were Malcolm's eyes, Yet dreamed he of those Western skies. Roaming again at eventide With fair Grace Maury by his side. Through woodland paths as thus they rove, He tried to tell her of his love j 'Twas Fate that led him to this spot — Fate — what was henceforth to be his lot ? The maiden laughed in scorn to hear A stranger whisper in her ear

Love — on so short acquaintance. No, He would not break his heart from woe ; Then sweetly rang her voice in song. He tried to say she did him wrong ; The witching strain still sounded clear. He waked : what music does he hear % It is not fancy ; whence that strain So exquisite ? He seeks in vain To see the minstrel — no one is near ; Yet still upon his listening ear Float the sweet numbers, loud and clear.

XVIII.

What witching notes ! Then in that hour He gives up to the magic power. Was it a harp which swelled the strain "? He listens : it is all in vain. Did human voice e'er breathe such strain ? And thus the cool night air seems fraught With this melodious midnight draught j While mute with wonder Malcolm lay. At length the wild notes died away.

XIX.

The moon had bathed with silver light Tree and shrub and mountain height ; While bright the sparkling dew-drops shone Upon the smooth and grassy lawn. Bowers of roses, fresh and fair, But mostly white, perfumed the air j ween.

•ace,

On the soft turf the white leaves lay Like snow when first it melts away. As Malcolm Lyle gazed on this scene His thoughts were wondrous strange, I What fate had sent him at this time To this far western mountain clime? His soul was filled with thoughts of Gr Her witching form, her lovely face ; For ne'er before that fateful hour Had woman ever had the power To lead him captive in her chain ; Yet could he ne'er say that again. ^0 ■ the sweet fetters bound him now. How could he breathe a lover's vow To fair Grace Maury 1 She would smile As in his dream, or laugh the while. Then rose his spirit at the thought His love should be thus set at naught. Why should a maiden, e'er so fair, Have power to fill him with despair ? The fevered dream of this strange night Would be displaced by morning light.

XX

Bright in the east the orient ray Proclaimed the rising King of Day ; But still the golden globe of light Was hid behind the lofty height Of trees that in deep shadow lay,

Untintecl yet by amber ray.

Tow'ring towards the western sky, In grandeur, Tryon's mountains lie. From the broad crests the mists float by In fleecy beauty toward the sliy, Till, meeting with the sun's bright ray, They softly fade from sight away. Facing the east, reflected, view Those tints of ruby, golden hue j How changed from rocl^ to crystal now. Of amethyst, pink, and purple glow ! Transparent, beautiful, the ray, E'en as we gaze, fades soon away ; While, rising high with giant force, The fiery orb keeps on its course.

XXI.

Malcolm had risen and fixed his gaze Upon those beauteous golden rays — That mountain view. The early morn Recalled the thought — he must return. He sighed to think 'twas time to roam. To leave this spot ere long for home. Then quickly turning, while a frown O'erspread his features, '^ Shall I own Myself the sport of woman ? Never ! With life itself the bond I sever." Then, hasting onward through the wood, Ere long was in a better mood.

The bracing air of morning brought The calm composure which he sought, Albeit neither grave nor gay, And toward the mansion took his way.

XXII.

Gathered around the pleasant board, With genial feelings all restored. Young Malcolm spoke with wild delight. Of the sweet strains of yesternight. '' What minstrel in that moonlight hour Woke the weird notes with magic power ? "

XXIII.

'' In very truth Ihey were," then Maury said, ^' Such strains were ne'er by mortal played. If 'twas a harp, the golden string Did ne'er to touch of mortal ring. When the moon rises late at night. And bathes the hills with silver light. Then on the air the dulcet strain Is borne in liquid notes again."

XXIY.

'' I wonder not," young Lyle replied, " That Fays should haunt this mountain side. Lovely indeed the scene last night— I gazed upon it with delight ; Yet deemed I not such tales to hear In this far land from mountaineer."

XXV.

" Doubtless you think we have no right Either to claim a witch or sprite," Quoth Maury, " in this western land j You keep them all in braw Scotland."

XXYI.

Young Malcolm laughed. ^^ I'm sure we'd spare, Willingly, the goblins there ; But judging from last night's sweet sound, Think in this region they abound."

XXVII.

Then Maury pressed his guest to stay.

Nor think of leaving there that day. '' All through this region he might see

Much that to him was novelty."

The hostess too, with graceful air, " Hoped he would tarry longer there."

No plea to urge j not long did he

Canto The Second. I

On rosy wings the hours flit by j To Malcolm hours of perfect joy. Basking in light of Grace's eyes, What cares he now how fast time flies ? And Lillian too, so fresh and fair, But little less she claims his care. How oft he'd wished for many a year, He had been given a sister dear ! The pure young love of such an one Had o'er his life a lustre thrown.

II.

His mother's memory filled his soul j Her very name would oft control His wayward spirit, and a tear Unbidden spring at name so dear. Th' absorbing love she bare her boy Brought now a melancholy joy. Not long did fate his mother spare ; He ne'er had known a father's care. Orphaned at an early age, Young, he had read life's saddening page. His kindred all had passed away Save one — an uncle old and gray —

A man by nature great and good, Sir Archie Lyle of Stillingwood.

III.

Malcolm was tall, of graceful air, Eyes of dark blue, and auburn hair ; Lightsome his step, of noble mien. And haughty glance sometimes, I ween. Impulsive, quick, his Scottish blood Oft shewed when in a wayward mood. His face was bare, save on his lip A light mustache of golden tip. Where'er he trod, in bower or hall, Young Malcolm was the chief o'er all.

IT.

The days and hours passed swiftly on, Yet still had Malcolm Lyle not gone. Oft of his home in Scotland's isle, With tales he woukVthe time beguile — Of rocky pass and mountain steep, Of Highland chieftain's dungeon keep — Deeds that were done by Scotland's lords, Who gained the day with their good swords.

V

And one there was, a mighty chief, Wlio ever wore a look of grief ] Locked in his breast, some secret deep It seemed his aim from all to keep

The knowledge, nor did any dare To try his confidence to share. YI.

Glenalban's lord, a proud cold man, Upon whose life there seemed a ban. Retired within his castle walls, Alone he trod the courtly halls — Friend nor acquaintance cared intrude Upon his gloomy solitude, vir.

Of books he had a wondrous store — 'Twas said he dealt in magic lore ; Many there were who feared to stray Beside those walls at close of day. YIII.

The cheering sound of hunter's horn Was never heard at early morn. Glenalban's woods were full of deer, Yet would not hunter venture here ; For well Glenalban's lord was known On one occasion to have shown His wrath and vengeful ire to those Who dared his orders to oppose, And cross him in his darksome mood, Or on his solitude intrude.

IX.

^Twas said not thus he'd always been — That 'twas some sorrow he had seen.

His father was a stem, proud lonl, Nor dared his son dispute his word.

X.

Young Ronald loved his father, still Ho could not bend his stul)born will To some things that his sire desired ; The Earl's proud spirit then was fired. What meant tlie boy f to thwart his will ? Or would he not his wish fulfill f

XT.

He for his son had sought with care A fitting ])ride, both young and fair — The daughter of a noble line — Yet Ronald did the match decline. Vain all his father's threats, commands ; Coldly before the Earl he stands, With something of that dark, stern mood, And well the father understood — Reflected in his son was shown A will unflinching as his own.

XIT.

At length, with martial ardor fired, A soldier's life he had long desired 5 At home, abroad, 'twas all the same, Glory henceforth should be his aim. Coldly the Earl gave his consent. And to the army Ronald went.

GLENALBAN.

XIII.

Thus time sped on, until at last Four or five years so had passed ; Till from the East the voice of ^Yar Resounded through the land afar, And Britons left their native shore. Many to return no more.

Of Balaklava shall I tell f Or Sebastopol, remembered well? Peace to the brave whose ashes lie In Eastern land, 'neath Eastern sky.

XIY.

In wars young Ronald's life passed on j He honors earned and glory won ; Laurels gathered in India's clime, Till he had reached his manhood prime.

XY.

While time thus wore relentless on. The father never saw his son. Often with earnest prayers he cried To see his son before he died. And, moaning through the weary night. Ne'er slumbered until morning light. At length 'twas murmured war was o'er, And Ronald to his native shore Was coming. Happy news at last ! The father's heart with hope beat fast.

XYI.

The hours dragged slowly one by one ; The sick man pined to see his son, Until, at length, his longing sight Rests on his son with glad delight. The meeting between the Earl and son, At most was but a saddening one ; How many thoughts rushed o'er the brain Of each, too late — alas ! and vain !

XYII.

The father knew he w^as failing fast — Not long the lamp of life could last — Yet joyed he that his son had come Again to his ancestral home.

With pride he marked his l)earing high, His martial step, his flashing eye ; Worthy his son to bear his name, Which never knew reproach or shame.

XVIII.

Death came at last ! the pall of woe Hung o'er the house. Oh ! who can know The grief, the pangs of that sad hour. Unless they too have felt its power ! Deeply his father Ronald mourned. Wished from his home he ne'er had turned ; Bitterly rued the day which bore Him far away from his native shore.

His friendsj with pleasant word and smile,

Oft tried his sorrow to beguile,

Or with kind sympathy to share

His trouble. Nought did Ronald care.

Stern and cold as mountain stone,

He seemed to wish to be alone.

XIX.

'Twas plain that other griefs had share To give his face that look of care. At length he left his native home, Afar in other lands to roam.

XX.

When years had passed, again he came To Scotland's Isle, yet still the same ; His brow still wore the look of care — Sorrow had put its impress there. Alone he lived ; few friends there were Who ever cared to enter there. To meet that look of grim despair.

XXI.

Sir Archie Lyle had sometimes gone To see the Earl, but not alone. Oft in his boyhood Malcolm roved Through the dark woods he so well loved ; Viewed the gray towers with wondering eye, And lofty turrets reared on high.

And when at length the Earl returned, With fire young Malcolm's spirit burned To see the mighty chief whose name And deeds were sounded high by fame. He prayed his uncle he might be His escort, when he went to see The lonely Earl. Sir Archie smiled, '^ Why, boy, thou art a very child. What is it thou would wish to see ? What would Glenalban want with ihQQ ?" Yet still he would not tell him nay ; And so they went that very day.

XXIL At that first visit thus it fell That Malcolm pleased Glenalban well. He kindly bade him welcome here — His presence would his spirit cheer. Something there was jn Malcolm's air — So open, frank, devoid of fear j His broad, high brow, his flashing eye — Transfixed his gaze, he knew not why.

XXIII.

Young Malcolm's heart swelled high with pride j No other wish had he beside.

With courteous words yet modest air. He thanked him for his kindness there, While beaming eye and glowing cheek Told more than any words could speak.

XXIY.

Such tales as these did Malcolm tell — A theme he seemed to love full well. Glenalban ! never did he tire, When seated by the evening fire, To tell of that chieftain's deeds and fame, , Spread near and far his noble name.

Canto The Third. I

'TwAS brown October, yet I ween Fairer weather ne'er was seen ; Although the frost, with blighting power, Had withered many a lovely flower. The white rose drooped its head and died. And fair young blossoms by its side Lay withered, while the forests grew More gorgeous with the Autumn hue.

II.

Around this charming mountain home Were many spots where one might roam. And ever find some new delight. Roving afar from morn till night. Enchantment too a mist had hung O'er many a rock and hill, had flung A magic spell o'er wood and glade. Haunted, 'twas said, by some pale shade. Or shades — for more than one had been At different times by many seen.

III.

Sloping from the woodland glade. Beneath a broad oak's spreading shade.

Overshadowed by a rock of gray, Which near the base was cleft away, A crystal stream flowed clear and bright, Sparkling in the warm sunlight. lY.

In winding paths it wandered on, (3'er pebbly rocks and shining stone- Dancing, leaping, singing still. With a low wild murmuring rill- Onward, down it took its way, Softly singing its wild lay, Till in the distance one might hear The sweet sounds fall upon the ear. There, in the night, when all was still. Was heard the song of the whippoorwill. Singing his wild notes loud and shrill. Y.

'Twas said that in the early light Of evening, called the gray twilight. Was seen a woman robed in white — A woman slender, young, and fair. With mournful eyes and flowing hair. Sometimes beneath the tree she stood. And sometimes coming from the wood ; But often, when the moon shone bright. Was seen this woman draped in white. There oft the night-bird flaps his wing. Beside this lonely, haunted spring. 2*

VI

Down near the glen where the willows lave Their graceful boughs in the lucid wave Of the river, which, flowing swiftly l)y, Bears on its bosom a murmur, a sigh — 'Tis a sigh which tells not of sorrow and care, Like the sigh of a mortal in deep despair; 'Tis a soft low tone, like we sometimes hear Borne on the breeze in the summer air From a bank of flowers — a fairy-like lay, Where the water-lilies by moonlight play. VII.

Whoe'er has sat by this river side, And gazed on the sparkling silver tide. Has felt a spell o'er his spirit steal — A mystic spell which one cannot reveal. VIII.

'Twas thus by the river sat Malcolm Lyle, Gazing in G-race's eyes the while. As she told him tales of the haunted glade. And the figure seen 'neath the trees' deep shade ; Of the weird-like music heard at night, Often when the moon shone bright. IX.

Malcolm gazed and listened and loved — ah ! well, He felt he was bound by some magic spell — Then mournfully turned his head and sighed. As he gazed on the swiftly flowing tide.

He had been from home too long away -, He felt that he could not much longer stay. What hope had he that Grace would hear His tale of love? Would she bend her ear In mockery, laugh as in his dream He had heard her ? Yet he could not deem But she must know that he loved her well — His eyes had said what his lips could tell, But dared not. What spell o'er his spirit was cast ! A spell which had bound him in fetters fast. He turned to look at Grace. She was gone. He was sitting on the rock alone !

X.

The merry sound of voices nigh Caused him to turn ; and, mounted high On a hanging cliff, looking down on the water. Was Lillian, Maury's youngest daughter. From rock to rock she had wandered on, And now on the cliff she sat alone.

'^ Oh, what a lovely view ! " she cried.

^^ Dear Grace, I wish you were by my side. Beautiful valleys of emerald green, Where the river winds with silvery sheen."

XI.

" Pray do not venture," Malcolm cried To Grace, who was climbing the mountain side. ^^ Or let me assist you." " Oh, no," she said, ''I do not feel at all afraid."