MacGregor Aurara (1817, Stirling)/Macgregor Aurara

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see Macgregor Aurara.

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MACGREGOR AURARA.

From the chase of the mountain as I was returning;
By the side of a fountain Malrina sat mourning;
To the winds that loud whistled she told her sad story,
And the vallies re-echoed MacGregor Aurara.

Like a flash of red lightnidg o'er the heath came McAra,
More fleet than the roe-buck on the lofty Benbarra;
Oh! where is MacGregor; say where does he hover;
You son of bold ———, why tarries my lover?

Then the voice of soft sorrow from his bosom thus sounded;
Low lies your MacGregor pale mangled and wouuded;
Overcome with sweet slumber to a rock I convey'd him,
Where the sons of black malice to his foes had betray'd him.

As the blast of the mountain soon nips the fresh blossom,
So died the fair bud of fond hope in her bosom;
MacGregor! MacGregor! loud echo resounded,
And the hills rung in pity MacGregor is wounded.

Near the brook in the valley the green turf did hide her,
And they laid MacGregor down found sleeping beside her;
Secure is their dwelling from foes and black slander;
Near the loud roaring waters their spirits oft wander.

When the keen chase is o'er ye bold sons of the mountain,
And softly reclining by the clear murmuring fountain,
Still look with a sigh to the foot of Benbarra,
Where died that bold chieftian MacGregor Aurara.

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