LXIV. They now that awful promontory greet, With savage wildness o'er its features spread, Rising in grandeur from its ocean seat, In rude magnificence, august Fairhead !19 A hell of waters howl beneath his feet A foaming Phlegethon, of aspect dread And massive pillars lift their heads on high, With which, nor Czar's nor Pompey's e'er could vie !20 LXV. Now o'er the swelling flood they quickly glide, And down the land with eagle's swiftness run, And now proud Valla's towers appear'd in view, E LXVI. Macdonald sped to Glendun's beauteous vale, Where stood the noble mansion of Sir Hugh;21 Encompass'd round with wood, and hill, and dale— Embattled front, with fosse and drawbridge too: He gain'd admittance, briefly told his tale, And found its worthy owner staunch and true; Who wrung, with fervour, our young hero's hand, And vow'd again to aid him with his band. LXVII. And now, in answer to their father's call, Two valiant youths, of Herculean mould, Stood by his side, within the spacious hall— His hopeful props when mind and limb wax old; "My sons," he said, "will quickly marshal all With hands as willing as with hearts they're bold; And, like their sire, when might oppresseth right, You'll find them foremost in Truth's sacred fight. LXVIII. "Hark, Duncan! rise thee with the lark, and send The muster signal swift from glen to glen; And, Arthur, speed thee to Glenane-our friend Tell Clegna, too, here with his force t' attend- LXIX. And now the festive hour of mirth drew nearThat hour which chases Grief and Care awayWhen, round the hearth, enjoying social cheer, We drown the pains or pleasures of the day; That brings delight to Peasant and to Peer, For who, at some time, have not felt its ray Beam on their souls, 'midst danger and distress? "Like angel's visits," come to cheer and bless? LXX. And here abundantly that ray was shed, Bright as an Eastern Sun's unclouded beam In Valla's hall a sumptuous board was spread, And song and jest flow'd with the grape's pure stream; And fast the brilliant hours of pleasure fled For hours of pleasure always shortest seemAll now retired, each buoyant with delight, And dreams prophetic cheer them to the fight. END OF THE FIRST CANTO. |