In joyous strains the voices float, See how the heroes' blood-red plumes It is not war their aid demands, Is this a bridegroom's ardent flame? While thronging guests and ladies wait, Nor Oscar nor his brother came. At length young Allan joined the bride: "Why comes not Oscar," Angus said: "Is he not here?" the youth replied; "With me he roved not o'er the glade: "Perchance, forgetful of the day, "Tis his to chase the bounding roe; Or ocean's waves prolong his stay; Yet Oscar's bark is seldom slow." "Oh, no!" the anguished sire rejoined, "Nor chase, nor wave, my boy delay; Would he to Mora seem unkind? Would aught to her impede his way? "Oh, search, ye chiefs! oh, search around! Allan, with these through Alva fly; Till Oscar, till my son is found, Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply." All is confusion - through the vale Till night expands her dusky wings; It breaks the stillness of the night, But echoes through her shades in vain, Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief "Oscar! my son! thou God of Heaven Restore the prop of sinking age! Or if that hope no more is given, Yield his assassin to my rage. "Yes, on some desert rocky shore My Oscar's whitened bones must lie; Then grant, thou God! I ask no more, With him his frantic sire may die! "Yet he may live, away, despair! Be calm, my soul! he yet may live; T'arraign my fate, my voice forbear! "What, if he live for me no more, Thus did the hapless parent mourn, Till Time, who soothes severest woe, Had bade serenity return, And made the tear-drop cease to flow. For still some latent hope survived That Oscar might once more appear; His hope now drooped and now revived, Till Time had told a tedious year. Days rolled along, the orb of light For youthful Allan still remained, And Mora's heart was quickly gained, For beauty crowned the fair-haired boy. She thought that Oscar low was laid, If Oscar lived, some other maid Had claimed his faithless bosom's care. And Angus said, if one year more Slow rolled the moons, but blest at last Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note! Again the clan, in festive crowd, But who is he, whose darkened brow The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth. ` Dark is the robe which wraps his form, 'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round, The bridegroom's health is deeply quaffed; With shouts the vaulted roofs resound, Sudden the stranger-chief arose, And all the clamorous crowd are hushed; And Angus' cheek with wonder glows, And Mora's tender bosom blushed. "Old man!" he cried, "this pledge is done; Thou saw'st 't was duly drank by me; It hailed the nuptials of thy son: Now will I claim a pledge from thee. "While all around is mirth and joy, "Alas!" the hapless sire replied, The big tears starting as he spoke, "When Oscar left my hall, or died, This aged heart was almost broke. "Thrice has the earth revolved her course Since Oscar's form has blest my sight; And Allan is my last resource, Since martial Oscar's death or flight." ""Tis well," replied the stranger stern, And fiercely flashed his rolling eye; "Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn; Perhaps the hero did not die. |