Scarce had one pale moon pass'd away, Afar from all his woodland train, To Carron's banks his fate consign'd, VI. Led by the golden star of love, 'Tis he, that sprite's illusive guest, (Ah me! that sprites can fate control!) That lives still imaged on her breast, That lives still pictured in her soul. As when some gentle spirit fled From earth to breathe elysian air, Soft, sudden pleasure rushes o'er, To find his future fate restore So Ellen stood-less power to move Seem'd, haply, o'er his hills to rove, She stood, but trembled-mingled fear VII. Hast thou not seen some azure gleam Thou hast and thou canst fancy well, When, waked, it fix'd on Ellen near. Silent they gazed-that silence broke, "Hail, Goddess of these groves," he cried, "O let me wear thy gentle yoke, "O let me in thy service bide. "For thee I'll climb the mountain steep, For thee"-" O stranger, cease," she said, And swift away, like Daphne, flew ; But Daphne's flight was not delay'd By aught that to her bosom grew. "Twas Atalanta's golden fruit, The fond idea that confined Fair Ellen's steps, and bless'd his suit, VIII. O Love! within those golden vales, Thy tale, O soul-subduing Love! Ah! wherefore should grim Rage be nigh, And dark Distrust with changeful face, And Jealousy's reverted eye, Be near thy fair, thy favor'd place? IX. Earl Barnard was of high degree, Had love, but not of gentle kind. He watch'd with all a miser's care: The wide domain, the princely dower, Made Ellen more than Ellen fair. Ah wretch! to think the liberal soul May thus with fair affection part! Though Lothian's vales thy sway control, Know, Lothian is not worth one heart. Studious he marks her absent hour, And winding far where Carron flows, Sudden he sees the fated bower, And red rage on his dark brow glows. For who is he ?-'tis Nithisdale ! And that fair form with arm reclined 'tis Ellen of the vale, On his "Tis she (0 powers of vengeance!) kind. Should he that vengeance swift pursue ? No-that would all his hopes destroy ! Moray would vanish from his view, And rob him of a miser's joy. Unseen to Moray's halls he hiesHe calls his slaves, his ruffian band, "And haste to yonder groves," he cries, "And ambush'd lie by Carron's strand. "What time ye mark, from bower or glen, "A gentle lady take her way, "To distance due, and far from ken, "Allow her length of time to stray. Then ransack straight that range of groves; "With hunter's spear, and vest of green, "If chance a rosy stripling roves— “Ye well can aim your arrows keen.” And now the ruffian slaves are nigh, And Ellen takes her homeward way, Though stay'd by many a tender sigh, She can no longer, longer stay. Pensive, against yon poplar pale, The lover leans his gentle heart, Revolving many a tender tale, And wondering still how they could part. Three arrows pierced the desert air, Ere yet his tender dreams depart; And one struck deep his forehead fair, Love's waking dream is lost in sleep- Ye maidens fair of Marlivale ! X. When all the mountain gales were still, Sweet Ellen takes her wonted way She'll meet him soon-for at her sight He comes not-weary with the chase, This is the bower-we'll softly tread- K |