Page:The poetical works of Thomas Campbell.djvu/109

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GLENARA.

O heard ye 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 the people, are called 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 on 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 grey stone of her cairn:Why speak ye no word!"—said Glenara the stern.
"And tell me, I charge you! ye elan 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 dreamt of my lady, I dreamt 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!"
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