CALEDONIA,

AN ODE.

O HAD I Ossian's lyre sublime
That triumph'd o'er the storms of time,
Would Cona's rapt, pathetic muse,
One spark into this breast infuse,
Of that unmatched, ethereal fire
Which on his 'nighted era shone,
When woody Morven heard his wire,
And echoed to her darling son:
hands impelling,

Patriot rage my

Swift I'd strike the chords anew, Hymns of praise with ardour swelling, Praise to Caledonia due!

Yet still that magic name hath power
To bless the poet's tranced hour!
When Fancy's limpid mirror bears,
The pageant of departed years,

She views thee from yon azure steep
With beamy shield and spear emerge,
And wing the planetary deep,

To take these lion hills in charge;
While the polar morn advancing,
Spreads her shaking silver dome,
And the North Star keenly glancing,
Warbling seraph, sings thee home.

Where giant Nevis towering high
Bursts thro' the billows of the sky,
With thunder girt, and plum'd with snows,
To thee a cloudy temple rose.

Yet oft to Druids' watchings weird
By waving wood or haunted heath,
Thy form in melting pomp appear'd,
Or floated o'er the fields of death.
Throned in Staffa's halls volcanic,
Thee the western waves would greet,
Wont to ride with brows tyrannic,
Homaged they around thy feet!

Let the loud pipe the strain prolong,
Thy Celtic sons demand the song;
Adopted to thy glorious name,
Twas theirs to rear an infant fame.
When savage nations from afar,

In lawless hordes let loose to prey,
Pour'd on their coasts perpetual war,
Destruction, danger, and dismay;
Till at length o'er prostrate Ullin, †
And the Scandinavian keel,
Oscar bold, and dark Cuchullin ‡
Brandished high the vengeful steel.

When the big Roman tempest beat,
Thy rocks were Freedom's last retreat :
While trembling Europe all in vain
Hung speechless on the Wanderer's train;

Ben-Nevis in Ross-shire, the highest Mountain in Great

Britain.

+ Ullin, the province of Ulster in Ireland.
Oscar and Cuchullin, two of Ossian's principal heroes

Let not" she said "Britannia mourn
"Time bringeth mighty changes forth"
Then sad, dishevelled, and forlorn
She sought the adamantine north;
Many-headed Grampus frowning
On the squadrons eagle led,
Sternly still the yoke disowning,
Sheltered the celestial maid.

On bloody Carron's twilight banks ↑
Dim-hovering o'er the martial ranks,
"Twas thus thy courage-kindling tongue,
In accents loud to battle sung:
"Once again the crimson lion

"Streams aloft on Morven's blast,
"Lo! the restless tyrants flying,

1

"Croud their gathered heap |,' aghast;

"Now redoubted, now or never,

"Grasp the faulchion, follow me;

"These your native plains deliver,

"Heaven preserves the mountains free!"

Yes, still thy hills unconquer'd stand,
Prophetic guardian of the land:
Where is the force that shall displace
The faithful, dauntless, pensive race!
§ Ages on dark-brown ages roll'd
The tide of time tumultuous down,
Their high memorial deeds unfold,

In doubling echoes of renown!!

* That chain of mountains called Grampian or Grautsbain. + Carron or Carun, a celebrated rivulet in Linlithgowshire. The arms of Scotland áre, on a Shield or, a Lion rampant within a double tressure flory, counterflowered gules.

"Gathered Heap." The Roman wall called Græme's dyke. "Roll on ye dark-brown years." Ossian.

Fir'd by thee, mid dangers glooming,
What their ardent spirits dare,
Lineaged Thane, or lowly ploughman,
Largs, and Loncarty declare!

Yet not to them did conquest yield
A respite from the bloody field;
Invasion's still-returning tide,

O'erwhelm'd their marches far and wide;
And ever as with doleful breath,

Of bugles shook their thickets green,
The ministers of kingly wrath

Stalk'd proudly o'er the ravag'd scene;
Then the tyrant false and jealous,
Scotia, had become thy lord,
But that brave, indignant Wallace
Wildly snatch'd thy dropping sword.

What earthly power shall well reward
His country's champion, saviour, guard?
What palms what trophies are his due?
Behold! a blood-stain'd block in view!
This is the guerdon, mighty chief!

A common triumph Scotia scorns,
Her's is the awful "joy of grief,"

But vengeance wakes when Scotia mourns!
Ever shall the tragic story

Honours on the lyre bestow,

Tears, the poet's truest glory,
Tears, extatic tears shall flow!

Far from the proud usurper's arts
Thy dearest exil'd son departs,

For an Account of the exile of Robert the first amongst the western islands, and the surprisal of the small English Garrison

And o'er the sea-rock sadly bent,
Gives all his royal sorrows vent.
Listening the midnight water's roar

()! Bruce what transport shook thy breast!
When Freedom on the dusky shore
Wav'd her red torch at thy behest.
Still the great design concealing,
Gathering, kindling, rushing on,
Till the Scottish sabre wheeling
Dealt another Marathon!

O Scotia, nurse of heartfelt song,
Whether thy lonely straths among,
Thou viewest, reclin'd on Fortha's urn,
The glorious plains of Bannockburn!
Or musing o'er some crumbling tower,
Mid pendent cliffs and dashing streams,
While Even gilds the dewy hour,

Thou visitest the Poet's dreams;
Borne in mists o'er fatal Flodden,
Or thy pausing footsteps trace
Where on distant, drear Culloden,

* Set the star of Banquo's race!

Be mine to sing that lovelier scene,
When Albion sought thee for his queen.
By charter seal'd in Heaven he rode
Imperial monarch of the flood!

When to the border meads he pressed,

in his own paternal Castle of Turnberry in Ayrshire, See all the Scotch Historians.

*The Royal House of Stuart are said to be descendants of Banquo, thane of Lochaber, who was murdered by the tyrant Macbeth.