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0» the Funeral of the Princess Charlotte.
Rev. W. t. Bmlt*.
LO! where youth and beauty He
Cold within the tomb!
Wither'd in their bloom.
O'er the young and buried bride
Let the cypress wave—
Lie hid in yonder grave.
Place the vain-expected child,
Gently near her breast!
But seeks its mother's rest.
Hark! we hear the general cry!
Hark! the passing bell!
A long and last farewell.
The Forest of Glenmore is drear,
It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree;
Is whistling the Forest lullaby:—
There is a voice among the trees
That mingles with the stormy breeze,
And the lake-waves dashing against the rock ;—
There is a voice within tl»e wood,
The vftice of the Bard in fitful mood,
His song was louder than the blast,
As the Bard of Glonmore through the forest past.
"Wake ye from your sleep of death,
"Minstrels and Bards of other days!
"And the midnight meteors dimly blaze;
* Written under the threat of invasion, in the autumn of 1S04.
t The forest of Glenmore is haunted by a spirit called Lhamdear;, oc' Bed-hand.
"Sods of the mighty! wake and say,
"To what high strain your harps were strung-, "When Lochlin ploughed her billowy way,
"And on your shores her Norsemen flung? u Her Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood, "Skilled to prepare the raven's food, "All by your harpings doom'd to die, "On bloody Largs and Loncarty.
"Mute are ye all? No mnrmurs strange
"Upon the midnight breeze sail by; "Nor through the pines With whistling change,
"Mimic the harp's wild harmony! "Mute are ye now?—Ye ne'er were mute, "When Murder with his bloody foot, "And Rapine with his iron hand, "Were hovering near your mountain strand.
"O yet awake the strain to tell,
"By every deed in song enroll'd, "By every chief who fought or fell,
"For Albion's weal in battle bold:— "From Cdilgach, first who roll'd his car, . , "Through the deep ranks of Roman war, "To him, of veteran memory dear, "Who "victor died on Aboukir.
"By all their swords, by all their scars,
« By all their wounds, by all their wars,
"For fiercer than fierce Hengist's strain,
The wind is hush'd, and still the lake—
At the dread voice of other years—
WIZARD—L.OCUIXL. f . WIZARD. '..
LOCHIEL! Lochiel, beware of the day
'lis thine, oh Glenullin! whose bride shall await,
Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!
Ha! laugh'sf thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!
Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultirigly forth,
From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north.'
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Ah! home let him speed—for the spoiler is nigh.
Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast;
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
Tis the firerShower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven,
Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, t