"Now, lady, give attention due, "Though worn by care, see Madoc here, Great Glyndur's friend, thy kindred's foe; Ah! let his name no anger raise, For now that mighty chief lies low. "E'en from the day when chained by fate, "E'en from that day misfortune still, Pursued him with unwearied step, "Vanquished at length, the Glyndur fled Where winds the Wye her devious flood, To find a casual shelter there, In some lone cot, or desart wood. "Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise, "To penury extreme, and grief, The chieftain fell a lingering prey; I heard his last few faltering words, Such as with pain I now convey: "To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, Nor let our horrid secret rest; Give but his corpse to sacred earth, Then may my parting soul be blest.'" "Dim waxed the eye that fiercely shone, And faint the tongue that proudly spokeAnd weak that arm still raised to me, Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke. "How could I then his mandate bear, And fought on Syria's distant strand. "O had thy long-lamented lord The Holy Cross and banner viewed,— "Led by the ardour of the chase Far distant from his own domain From where Garthmaelan spreads her shade, The Glyndur sought the opening plain. "With head aloft, and antlers wide, A red-buck roused then crossed in view; Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. "With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, He, all impetuous, poured his rage, Reviled the chief as weak in arms, And bade him loud the battle wage. "Glyndur for once restrained his sword, 66 They fought, and doubtful long the fray; "How could we hope for wish'd retreat, "I marked a broad and blasted oak, Scorched by the lightning's livid glare; Hollow its stem, from branch to root, And all its shrivelled arms were bare. “Be this, (I cried) his proper grave! And dropped his bleeding corpse within." A shriek from all the damsels burst, With stupid stare, and vacant gaze, Full on his face her eyes were cast; Like wildfire o'er a mossy heath, The rumour through the hamlet ran; The peasants crowd at morning dawn, To hear the tale, -behold the man. He led them near the Blasted Oak, Then, conscious, from the scene withdrew; The peasants work with trembling haste, And lay the whitened bones to view. Back they recoiled! the right-hand still And proudly decked their slaughtered lord. They bore the corse to Vener's * shrine, LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. BY THOMAS CAMPBELL. A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, And I'll give thee a silver pound 66 To row us o'er the ferry." Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?" "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. *The ruins of Kemmer Abbey are about a mile distant from Nannau House, the church of which is probably the one here meant. "And fast before her father's men, Three days we've fled together; "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Out-spoke the hardy Highland wight, "I'll go, my chief — I'm ready : It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady. : "And, by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry." By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, "O, haste thee, haste! (the lady cries), Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father." * Spirit. |