They have lighted the islands with Ruin's torch, All but Aodh, the last Culdee, And where is Aodh's bride? Plunged she not from your heights in pride, Then Ulvfagre and his bands In the temple lighted their banquet up, And the print of their blood-red hands Was left on the altar-cup. 'Twas then that the Norseman to Aodh said, As he spoke the bell struck three, And every torch grew dim That lighted their revelry. But the torches again burnt bright, Hush'd was the revellers' sound, They were struck as mute as the dead, And their hearts were appall'd by the very sound Of his footstep's measured tread, Nor word was spoken by one beholder, While he flung his white robe back on Mis shoulder, And stretching his arms-as eath Unriveted Aodh's bands As if the gyves had been a wreath All saw the stranger's similitude Then uprose the Danes at last to deliver But down went axes and spears and bows, The archer's hand on the string was stopt, And down, like reeds laid flat by the wind, Their lifted weapons dropt. The Saint then gave a signal mute, Till hands invisible shook the wall, On Ulvfagre's helm it crash'd- "Go back, ye wolves, to your dens," he cried, "And tell the nations abroad, How the fiercest of your herd has died And take with you o'er the flood A remnant was call'd together, A doleful remnant of the Gael, 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 flush'd the sky, Save from their hiding-places came But alas! when the search for Reullura spread, For the sea had gone o'er her lovely head, THE TURKISH LADY. "T WAS the hour when rites unholy Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer, And the star that faded slowly Day her sultry fires had wasted, Half oblivion of his woes. Then 't was from an Emir's palace "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!" 尊 Now in Heaven's blue expansion "Fly we then, while none discover! THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. ALONE to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er"Oh whither," she cried, "hast thou wander'd, my lover? Or here dost thou welter and bleed on the shore? "What voice did I hear? 't was my Henry that sigh'd!" All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far, When bleeding, and low, on the heath she descried, By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar! From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent was streaming, And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar! And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming, That melted in love, and that kindled in war! |