2.
But often has yon rolling moon, On Alva's casques of silver play'd; And view'd, at midnight's silent noon, Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd:
3.
And, on the crimson'd rocks beneath, Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen flow, Pale in the scatter'd ranks of death, She saw the gasping warrior low; [i]
4.
While many an eye, which ne'er again [ii]
Could mark the rising orb of day, Turn'd feebly from the gory plain, Beheld in death her fading ray.
5.
Once, to those eyes the lamp of Love, They blest her dear propitious light; But, now, she glimmer'd from above, A sad, funereal torch of night.
6.
Faded is Alva's noble race, And grey her towers are seen afar; No more her heroes urge the chase, Or roll the crimson tide of war.
7.
But, who was last of Alva's clan?
Why grows the moss on Alva's stone?
Her towers resound no steps of man, They echo to the gale alone.
8.
And, when that gale is fierce and high, A sound is heard in yonder hall; It rises hoarsely through the sky, And vibrates o'er the mould'ring wall.
9.
Yes, when the eddying tempest sighs, It shakes the shield of Oscar brave; But, there, no more his banners rise, No more his plumes of sable wave.
10.
Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth, When Angus hail'd his eldest born; The vassals round their chieftain's hearth Crowd to applaud the happy morn.
11.
They feast upon the mountain deer, The Pibroch rais'd its piercing note, [2]
To gladden more their Highland cheer, The strains in martial numbers float.
12.
And they who heard the war-notes wild, Hop'd that, one day, the Pibroch's strain Should play before the Hero's child, While he should lead the Tartan train.
13.
Another year is quickly past, And Angus hails another son; His natal day is like the last, Nor soon the jocund feast was done.
14.
Taught by their sire to bend the bow, On Alva's dusky hills of wind, The boys in childhood chas'd the roe, And left their hounds in speed behind.
15.
But ere their years of youth are o'er, They mingle in the ranks of war; They lightly wheel the bright claymore, And send the whistling arrow far.
16.
Dark was the flow of Oscar's hair, Wildly it stream'd along the gale; But Allan's locks were bright and fair, And pensive seem'd his cheek, and pale.
17.
But Oscar own'd a hero's soul, His dark eye shone through beams of truth; Allan had early learn'd controul, And smooth his words had been from youth.
18.
Both, both were brave; the Saxon spear Was shiver'd oft beneath their steel; And Oscar's bosom scorn'd to fear, But Oscar's bosom knew to feel;
19.
While Allan's soul belied his form, Unworthy with such charms to dwell: Keen as the lightning of the storm, On foes his deadly vengeance fell.
20.
From high Southannon's distant tower Arrived a young and noble dame; With Kenneth's lands to form her dower, Glenalvon's blue-eyed daughter came;
21.