When the Saint with his crosier signed, The Saint then gave a signal mute, And though Ulvfagre willed it not, Till hands invisible shook the wall, On Ulvfagre's helm it crashed- And the pauses amidst his speech Were as awful as the sound: "Go back, ye wolves! to your dens " (he cried), "And tell the nations abroad, How the fiercest of your herd has died That slaughtered the flock of God. Gather him bone by bone, And take with you o'er the flood The fragments of that avenging stone That drank his heathen blood. These are the spoils from Iona's sack, The only spoils ye shall carry back; For the hand that uplifteth spear or sword Shall be withered by palsy's shock, And I come in the name of the Lord To deliver a remnant of his flock." A remnant was called together, A doleful remnant of the Gaël, And the Saint in the ship that had brought him hither Took the mourners to Innisfail. Unscathed they left Iona's strand, When the opal morn first flushed the sky, Safe from their hiding-places came Orphans and mothers, child and dame : But, alas! when the search for Reullura spread, No answering voice was given, For the sea had gone o'er her lovely head, THE TURKISH LADY. "T WAS the hour when rites unholy And the star that faded slowly Left to dews the freshened air. Day her sultry fires had wasted, Calm and sweet the moonlight rose; Even a captive spirit tasted Half oblivion of his woes. Then 't was from an Emir's palace She, in spite of tyrants jealous, Saw and loved an English knight. "Tell me, captive, why in anguish "'T was on Transylvania's Bannat, In that day of desolation, "Captive! could the brightest jewel Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee Christian climes should we behold?""Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee Were thy ransom paid in gold!" Now in Heaven's blue expansion "Fly we, then, while none discover! Clasped his blooming Eastern bride. THE BRAVE ROLAND. THE brave Roland! - the brave Roland! And thy faithful bosom swooned with pain, For the loss of thine own true knight. But why so rash has she ta'en the veil For her vow had scarce been sworn, Woe! woe! each heart shall bleed-shall break! Had he come but yester-even! And he had clasped those peerless charms, Or meet him but in heaven. Yet Roland the brave - Roland the true It was dear still midst his woes; For he loved to breathe the neighboring air, There's yet one window of that pile, Which he built above the Nun's green isle; (When the chant and organ sounded slow) For herself he might not see. She died! he sought the battle-plain; When he fell and wished to fall: THE SPECTRE BOAT. A BALLAD. LIGHT rued false Ferdinand to leave a lovely maid forlorn, Who broke her heart and died to hide her blushing cheek from scorn. One night he dreamt he wooed her in their wonted bower of love, Where the flowers sprang thick around them, and the birds sang sweet above. But the scene was swiftly changed into a church-yard's dismal view, And her lips grew black beneath his kiss, from love's delicious hue. What more he dreamt, he told to none; but shuddering, pale and dumb, Looked out upon the waves, like one that knew his hour was come. |