Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe; Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame. Thomas Campbell. LOCHIEL'S FAREWELL. NULLODEN, on thy swarthy brow CULLO Spring no wild-flowers nor verdure fair; More than the freezing wintry air. Then fled, and cursed thee evermore. From Beauly's wild and woodland glens, Rush onward with the broad claymore! When wintry winds begin to blow! Where now thy honors, brave Lochiel? The braided plumes torn from thy brow, What must thy haughty spirit feel, When skulking like the mountain roe! While wild birds chant from Lochy's bowers, To his blue hills that rose in view, "Land of proud hearts and mountains gray, That from thy chiefs the laurel wrung. "Shades of the mighty and the brave, Your fading fame in loftiest rhyme." John Grieve. Culross. THE OLD SEAPORT. WHEN winds were wailing round me, And Day, with closing eye, Scowled from beneath the sullen clouds All silently I stood, Gazing the wintry ocean's Rough, bleak, and barren flood. A place more wild and lonely The caverned sea-rocks beetled o'er There was no sound from aught around, Save, mid the echoing caves, The plashing and the dashing. Of the melancholy waves. High, mid the lowering waste of sky, The sea-weed's tangly arms; The face of Nature in a pall Death-shrouded seemed to be, As by St. Serf's lone tomb arose In twilight's shadowy scowling, Thy blackened piles had stood, Of hoar decrepitude all spake, Of fierce, wild times departed; Far on the foamy seas. It spake of swart gray-headed men, And how, when windows rattled, And strong pines bowed to earth, Pale wives, with trembling children mute, All sadly musing on the ships How welcome their return to home! And huts beneath the giant palms, Mid melancholy fancies My spirit loved to stray, Back through the mists of hooded Eld, Lone wandering, far away; When dim-eyed Superstition Upraised her eldritch croon, And witches held their orgies Beneath the waning moon. Yes! through Tradition's twilight, To days had Fancy flown When Canmore or when Kenneth dree'd The Celt's uneasy crown; When men were bearded savages, An unenlightened horde, |