Page:Reciter (2).pdf/3

 THE

GLENARA.

! heard you yon pibroch sound sad in the gale

Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?

'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear;

And her sire and her people are call'd to her bier.

Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;

Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud;

Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;

They march'd all in silence—they look'd to the ground.

In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor,

To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar,

'Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn-

Why speak ye no word?' said Glenara the stern.

'And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse

Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?'

So spake the rude chieftain: no answer is made,

But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.

'I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her shroud,'

Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;

'And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem:

Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'