Page images



V I N V E L A.

MY love is a son of the hill, He pursues the flying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him; his bow-string sounds in the wind. Whether by the fount of the rock, or by the stream of the mountain thou liest; when the rushes are nodding with the wind, and the mist is Hying over thee, let me approach my love unperceived, and fee him from the rock. Lovely I saw thee first by the aged oak; thou wert returning tall from the chace; the fairest among thy friends.

B Shilric.

sS HI'L R I C.

"what voice isihat I hear? that

.voice like the summer-wind. 1 sit

not by the nodding rushes; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela," afar I go to the wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me no more. No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I fee thee, fair-moving by the stream of the plain; bright as the bow of heaven; as the moon on the western.wave-'

V I N V E L A.

Then thou art gone, O Shihic? and I am alone on the hill. The deer are seen on the brow; void of fear they graze along. No more they dread the wind; no more the rustling tree. The hunter is far removed;


he is in the field of graves* Stran^gers! sons of the waves! spare my fovely Shilric.


If fall I must in the field, raise higrfe my grave, Vinvela. Grey stones, and? heaped-up earth, (hallmark me to future. times. When the hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food at noon, "some warrior rests here," he will fay; and my fame mall live in his. praise. Remember me, Vinvela, when* low on earth L lie!


Yes!—I will remember thee—indeed? my Shilric will fall. What (hall I dor my love! when thou art gone fore ver?" Through these hills I will go at r.ccn: I.? will go through the silent heath- There: I will fee where often thou fattest returning from the chace. Indeed, my Shil— ric will fall j but I will lemembex him.


T Sit by the mossy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is rustling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer descend from the hill. No hunter at a distance is seen; no whistling cow-herd is nigh. It is mid-day: but all is silent. Sad are my thoughts as I fit alone. Didst thou but appear, O my love, a wanderer on the heath f thy hair floating on the wind behind thee; thy bosom heaving on the sight; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends, whom the mist of the hill had concealed T Thee I would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's house.

But is it she that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath? bright


« PreviousContinue »