The Elocutionist (1840-1850)/Glenara

by Thomas Campbell

For other versions of this work, see Glenara.

THE ELOCUTIONIST.

GLENARA.

Oh! heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly it weeping and wail?
'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire and her people are call'd to her bier.

Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud,
Her kinsmen they followed but mourned not aloud;
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;
They marched all in silence—they looked to the ground.

In silence they reached 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 clan 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 displayed.

"I dream'd of my lady, I dreamed 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."

Oh! pale grew the cheek of the chieftain I ween,
When the shroud was unclosed and no body was seen,
Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn
'Twas the youth that had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn.

"I dreamed of my lady. I dreamed of her grief,
I dreamed that her lord was a barbarous chief;
On a rock of the ocean, fair Ellen did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!"

In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,
And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found;
From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne
Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!

Campbell