One pass there is, and one alone,
And in that pass stands Morison.
Who crosses there, or man or beast,
Must make their passage o'er his breast,
And over heaps of mangled dead,
That dam red Cample from its bed.
His sister's cries his soul alarm,
And add new vigour to his arm.
His twenty men are waned to ten-
O, haste to dauntless Locherben!

The Southrons, baulked, impatient turn,
And crowd once more the fatal bourn.
All desperate grew the work of death,
No yielding but with yielding breath;
Even still lay every death-struck man,
For footing to the furious van.
The little band was seized with dread,
Behind their rampart of the dead;
Power from their arms began to fly,
And hope within their breasts to die,
When loud they heard the cheering word
Of-Douglas! Douglas! cross the ford;
Then turned the Southron swift as wind,
For fierce the battle raged behind.

O, stay, brave Morison! O, stay!
Guard but that pass till break of day;
Thy flocks, thy sister to retrieve,
That task to doughty Douglas leave:
Let not thine ardour all betray,—
Thy might is spent-brave warrior, stay.

O, for the lyre of heaven, that rung
When Linden's lofty hymn was sung;
Or his, who from the height beheld
The reeling strife of Flodden field!
Then far on wing of genius borne
Should ring the wonders of that morn:
Morn!-ah! how many a warrior bold
That morn was never to behold!
When rival rank to rank drew nigh,
When eye was fixed on foeman's eye,
When lowered was lance, and bent was bow,
And faulchion clenched to strike the blow,
No breath was heard, nor clank of mail,
Each face with rage grew deadly pale:
Trembled the moon's reluctant ray;
The breeze of heaven sunk soft away.

So furious was that onset's shock, Destruction's gates at once unlock: "Twas like the earthquake's hollow groan, When towers and towns are overthrown: 'Twas like the river's midnight crush, When snows dissolve, and torrents rush; When fields of ice, in rude array, Obstruct its own resistless way: 'Twas like the whirlwind's rending sweep: 'Twas like the tempest of the deep, Where Corrybraken's surges driven, Meet, mount, and lash the breast of heaven.

"Twas foot to foot, and brand to brand; Oft hilt to hilt, and hand to hand;

Oft gallant foemen, woe to tell. Dead in each other's bosoms fell! The horsemen met with might and m Then reeled, and wheeled, and met is A thousand spears on hauberks hang A thousand swords on helmets clang Where might was with the feebler he Still there the line of battle bent; As oft recoiled from flank assail, While blows fell thick as rattling h Nature stood mute that fateful hour, All save the ranks on Cample-moot And mountain-goats that left their de And bleating fled to Garroch-gien.

Dumlanrig, aye in battle keen,

The foremost in the broil was seen:
Woe to the warrior dared withstand
The progress of his deadly brand!
He sat so firm, he reined so well,
Whole ranks before his charger fell
A valiant youth kept by his side,
With crest and armour crimson-dyed
Charged still with him the yielding fa
And seconded his every blow.
The Douglas wondered whence he can
And asked his lineage and his name:
'Twas he who kept the narrow way.
Who raised at first the battle-fray.
And roused Dumlanrig and his men,-
Brave Morison of Locherben.

My chief, he said, forgive my fear For one than life to me more dear; But late I heard my sister cry: Dumlanrig, now thy weapon plyHer guard waits in yon hollow lea, Beneath the shade of spreading tree

Dumlanrig's eye with ardour shone;
Follow! he cried, and spurred him t
A close gazoon the horsemen made,
Douglas and Morison the head,
By dint of lance and broad claymore,
And through the ranks impetuous ber
'Mid shouts, and groans of parting li
For hard and doubtful was the strife
Behind a knight, firm belted on,
They found the fair May Morison.
But why, through all Dumlanrig's tr
Search her bright eyes, and search in t
A stranger mounts her on his steed.
Brave Morison, where art thou fled
The drivers for their booty feared,
And, soon as Cample-ford was cleared
To work they fell, and forced away
Across the stream their mighty pry
The bleating flocks in terror ran
Across the bloody breast of man;
Even the dull cattle gazed with dread
And lowing, foundered o'er the dead

The Southrons still the fight mainte Though broke, they closed and fought Till shouting drivers gave the word That all the flocks had cleared the fo

en to that pass the bands retire, d safely braved Dumlanrig's ire. Ashly he tried, and tried in vain, at steep, that fatal path to gain; adly prolonged th' unequal fray, d lost his men, and lost the day. aid the battle's fiercest shock, aree spears were on his bosom broke; en forced in flight to seek remede, ad it not been his noble steed, at swift away his master bore, ne'er had seen Dumlanrig more.

e day-beam, from his moonlight sleep, er Queensberry began to peep, heeled drowsy on the mountain-fern, length rose tiptoe on the cairn, nbracing, in his bosom pale,

e stars, the moon, and shadowy dale. hen what a scene appalled the view, Cample-moor, as dawning drew! ong the purple heather spread, y mixed the dying and the dead ; ern foemen there from quarrel cease, ho ne'er before had met in peace; vo kinsmen good the Douglas lost, d full three hundred of his host, With one by him lamented most, he flower of all the Nithsdale men, ung Morison of Locherben.

he Southrons did no foot pursue, or seek the conflict to renew. hey knew not at the rising sun hat mischief they'd to Douglas done, it to the south pursued their way, ad to escape with such a prey.

ave Douglas, where thy pride of weir? ow stinted in thy bold career! oe, that the Lowther eagle's look ould shrink before the Lowland rook! oe, that the lordly lion's paw ravening wolves should sink in awe! at doubly woe, the purple heart hould tarnished from the field depart!

as it the loss of kinsmen dear, crusted scratch of Southron spear? as it thy dumb, thy sullen host, hy glory by misconduct lost? rthy proud bosom, swelling high, ade the round tear roll in thine eye? !no; thy heart was doomed to prove he sharper pang of slighted love.

What vision lingers on the heath,
itting across the field of death;
= gliding motion, smooth and still
vapour on the twilight-hill,

r the last ray of falling even

hed through the parting clouds of heaven? it a sprite that roams forlorn? r angel from the bowers of morn,

"O cease thy tears, my lovely May,
Sweet floweret of the banks of Ae,
His soul thou never canst recall-
He fell as warrior wont to fall.
Deep, deep the loss we both bewail;
But that deep loss to countervail,
Far as the day-flight of the hern,
From Locherben to green Glencairn,
From where the Shinnel torrents pour
To the lone vales of Crawford-moor,
The fairy-links of Tweed and Lyne,
All, all the Douglas has, is thine,
And Douglas too; whate'er betide,
Straight thou shalt be Dumlanrig's bride."-

ith joy his proud return would view cd her impetuous censure rue.

And much the circle longed to hear Of gliding ghost, or gifted seer, That in that still and solemn hour

trude himself on lady's grief,

if his right, as nought but he ere worthy her anxiety.

», warrior: keep thy distance due; auty is proud and jealous too. fair and young thy maiden be, Bow she knew that ere told by thee. kind, be gentle, heave the sigh, d blush before her piercing eye; er though thour't noble, brave, and young, rough thy mien and rude thy tongue, ough proudly towers thy trophied pile, pe not for beauty's yielding smile. a! well it suits the brave and high, ntle to prove in lady's eye.

mlanrig found his lovely flower ir as the sun-beam o'er the shower, ntle as zephyr of the plain, reet as the rose-bud after rain: one all her scorn and maiden pride, e blushed Dumlanrig's lovely bride. mes of Dumlanrig, though thy name arce vibrates in the ear of fame, at for thy might and valour keen, at gallant house had never been. est be thy mem'ry, gallant man!

t flashed thy broad-sword in the van, hen stern rebellion reared the brand, d stained the laurels of our land, knight unshaken stood like thee right of injured majesty: -en yet, o'er thy forgotten bier, minstrel drops the burning tear, d strikes his wild harp's boldest string, y honours on the breeze to fling, at mountains, once thine own, may know, om whom the Queensberry honours flow. ir be thy memory, gallant knight! true in love, so brave in fight! ough o'er thy children's princely urn e sculpture towers, and seraphs mourn, er thy green grave shall wave the yew, d heaven distil its earliest dew.

hen ceased the bard's protracted song, cled a smile the fair among; e song was free, and soft its fall, soothing, yet so bold withal, ey loved it well, yet, sooth to say, o long, too varied was the lay.

Twas now the witching time of night, hen reason strays, and forms that fright e shadowed on the palsied sight; hen fancy moulds upon the mind rht visions on the passing wind,

d wooes, with faltering tongue and sigh, e shades o'er memory's wilds that fly;

And restless fancy revel free
In painful, pleasing luxury.
Just as the battle-tale was done
The watchman called the hour of one.

Lucky the hour for him who came, Lucky the wish of every dame, The bard who rose at herald's call Was wont to sing in Highland hall, Where the wild chieftain of M·Lean Upheld his dark Hebridian reign; Where floated crane and clamorous gull Above the misty shores of Mull; And evermore the billows rave Round many a saint and sovereign's grave. There, round Columba's ruins gray, The shades of monks are wont to stray, And slender forms of nuns, that weep In moonlight by the murmuring deep, O'er early loves and passions crost, And being's end for ever lost. No earthly form their names to save, No stem to flourish o'er their grave, No blood of theirs beyond the shrine To nurse the human soul divine, Still cherish youth by time unworn, And flow in ages yet unborn; While mind, surviving evermore, Unbodied seeks that lonely shore.

In that wild land our minstrel bred, From youth a life of song had led, Wandering each shore and upland dull, To sing the deeds of old Fingal With Allan Bawn, the bard of Mull, Well knew he, every ghost that came In every cot and Highland hall. To visit fair Hebridian dame, Was that of Monk or Abbot gone, Who once, in cell of pictured stone, Of woman thought, and her alone. Well knew he, every female shade To westland chief that visit paid In morning pale, or evening dun, Was that of fair lamenting nun, Who once, in cloistered home forlorn, Languished for joys in youth forsworn; And oft himself had seen them glide At dawning from his own bed-side.

Forth stepped he with uncourtly bow, The heron-plume waved o'er his brow, His garb was blent with varied shade, And round him flowed his Highland plaid: But woe to Southland dame and knight In minstrel's tale who took delight; Though known the air, the song he sung Was in the barbarons Highland tongue: But tartaned chiefs in raptures hear The strains, the words, to them, so dear.

But the wolf that nightly swam the sound,
From Rosa's rude impervious bound,
On the ravenous burrowing race to feed,
That loved to haunt the home of the dead,
To him Saint Columb had left in trust
To guard the bones of the royal and just,
Of saints and of kings the sacred dust;
The savage was scared from his charnel of
death,

And swam to his home in hunger and wrath, For he momently saw, through the night so dun,

The cowering monk, and the veiled nun,

Whispering, sighing, and stealing av By cross dark alley, and portal gray 0, wise was the founder, and well Where there are women, mischief mus

No more the watch-fires gleam to thei
McKinnon and friends arrive at last.
A stranger youth to the isle they bro
Modest of mien and deep of thought,
In costly sacred robes bedight,
And he lodged with the Abbot by day
by night.

His breast was graceful, and round v
And his tread so light that it flung no -
His leg was taper, his foot was smal
On listening ear or vault around.
His eye was the morning's brightest
And his neck like the swan's in lona
His teeth the ivory polished new,
And his lip like the morel when glossed ›

dew,

While under his cowl's embroidered i
Were seen the curls of waving gold
This comely youth, of beauty so brich
Abode with the Abbot by day and by
When arm in arm they walked the is
Young friars would beckon, and moni
smile;
But sires, in dread of sins unshrive
Would shake their heads and look
heaven,

Afraid the frown of the saint to see.
Who reared their temple amid the
And pledged his soul to guard the de
Till virtue should fly her western hor
But now a stranger of hidden degre
Too fair, too gentle, a man to be,
This stranger of beauty and step so
Abode with the Abbot by day and by
The months and the days flew light
The monks were kind and the nuns wer
But the gray-haired sires, in tres
mood,

Kneeled at the altar and kissed the

M'Kinnon he dreamed that the saint

isle

Stood by his side, and with courtes Bade him arise from his guilty slee And pay his respect to the God of the In temple that north in the main a Which fire from bowels of ocean hai Which the giant-builders of her reared.

To rival in grandeur the stately pe Himself had upreared in Iona's iste For round them rose the mountains The fishes had left the coasts of 15 And so high ran the waves of the a They had drizzled the cross on the Dun-ye

The cycle was closed, and the periHe had vowed to the sea, he had

the sun,