Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/181

Rh 47.

Dark is the robe which wraps his form,

And tall his plume of gory red;

His voice is like the rising storm,

But light and trackless is his tread.

48.

'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round,

The bridegroom's health is deeply quaft'd;

With shouts the vaulted roofs resound,

And all combine to hail the draught.

49.

Sudden the stranger-chief arose,

And all the clamorous crowd are hush'd;

And Angus' cheek with wonder glows,

And Mora's tender bosom blush'd.

50.

"Old man!" he cried, "this pledge is done,

Thou saw'st 'twas truly drunk by me;

It hail'd the nuptials of thy son:

Now will I claim a pledge from thee.

51.

"While all around is mirth and joy,

To bless thy Allan's happy lot,

Say, hadst thou ne'er another boy?

Say, why should Oscar be forgot?"