12
'The Campbell may come, as his promises bind him,
And haughty M'Nab with his giants behind him;
This night I am bound to relinquish the fray,
And do what it freezes my vitals to say.
Forgive me, dear brother, this horror of mind;
Thou know'st in the strife I was never behind,
Nor ever receded a foot from the van,
Or blench'd at the ire or the prowess of man.
But I've sworn by the cross, by my God, and by all!
An oath which I cannot, and dare not recall,—
Ere the shadows of midnight fall east from the pile.
To meet with a spirit this night in Glen-Gyle.
'Last night, in my chamber, all thoughtful and lone,
I call'd to remembrance some deeds I had done,
When enter'd a lady, with visage so wan,
And looks, such as never were fasten'd on man.
I knew her, O brother! I knew her full well!
Of that once fair dame such a tale I could tell
As would thrill thy bold heart; but how long she, remain'd,
So rack'd was my spirit, my bosom so pain'd
I knew not—but ages seem'd short to the while,
Though proffer the Highlands, nay, all the Green Isle,
With length of existence no man can enjoy,
The same to endure, the dread proffer I'd fly!
The thrice-threaten'd pangs of last night to forego,
