قراءة كتاب The Celtic Magazine, Vol. I No. V A Monthly Periodical Devoted to the Literature, History, Antiquities, Folk Lore, Traditions, and the Social and Material Interests of the Celt at Home and Abroad

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The Celtic Magazine, Vol. I No. V
A Monthly Periodical Devoted to the Literature, History, Antiquities, Folk Lore, Traditions, and the Social and Material Interests of the Celt at Home and Abroad

The Celtic Magazine, Vol. I No. V A Monthly Periodical Devoted to the Literature, History, Antiquities, Folk Lore, Traditions, and the Social and Material Interests of the Celt at Home and Abroad

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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class="i0">Its blazoned "Lamh dhearg" 'mid the rays
Of solar light, or battle blaze,
Has disappeared, and each wild look
Scowls at the music of the brook,
As if sweet nature seemed to scan
The inmost heart of guilty man?
Oh! can you in a scene so loved
By all that's holy stand unmoved?
Can vengeance in that heart be found
Which vibrates on this blessed ground?
Can that lone deep cathedral bell
Cast all around its sacred spell?

And yet on ruthless murder bent,
Its voice to thee in vain be sent?
Mhicranuil? raise thy haggard eye,
And say beneath the glowing sky
Is there a spot where man may rest
More beautiful, more truly blest
Than where the Beauly pours its stream
Through nature's all-romantic Dream,[A]
Down to that ridge which bounds the south
Of Nephia's salmon-spangled mouth?
The voice of praise was heard to peal
From Cillechriost's low holy aisle,
And on the Sabbath's stilly air
Arose the hopeful soul of pray'r:
When on the pastor's thoughtful face
Played something like a radiant grace;
Still was each thought to heaven sent,
Still was each knee in prayer bent;
Still did each heart in wonder rise
To something far beyond the skies,
When burst, as an electric cloud
Had wrapt them in a flaming shroud,
The roof above, the sides around,
The altar—nay the very ground
Seemed burning, mingled with the air
In one wild universal flare!
Hark, heaven! through the lurid air
Sprung the wild scream of mad despair,
Those that so late did breath but love,
Whose kindred hearts were interwove,
Now tore away strong nature's ties
Amidst her stronger agonies;
Affection, frantic, burst the band
That linked them often hand to hand,
And rushed along the maddening tide
Which rolled in flames from side to side.
Eager the crowded porch to gain
In hopes of safety. Ah! how vain?
The demon ministers of death.
From stern Glengarrie's land of heath
Stood bristled round the burning fane
Like hells last hopeless, hideous chain,
That even the infant might not die
Beneath a brighter, cooler sky,
Whilst in their savageness of joy
The war-pipe screams their victory.

PIOBREACHD CILLECHRIOST.

Ho! Clanchonich? mark the blaze
Reddening all your kindred skies,
Hear ye not your children's cries
Welcoming Macranuil?
Hear ye not the eagle scream
O'er the curling, crackling flame
Which flies to heaven with the name
Of glorious Clandonuil?
Ho! horo? the war-note swell,
Burst aloud Clanchonich's wail!
Hark! it is their wild farewell
To Allan-du-Macranuil!
Never yet did victor smile
On a nobler funeral pile,
Than rushes from this holy aisle
In memory of Clandonuil!
Never shall pale sorrow's tear
Blanch the cheek that slumbers here,
They have pressed a warmer bier
For Allan-du-Macranuil!
Never shall a footstep roam
From their dreary voiceless home
They have slept in one red tomb
For grateful Clandonuil!
The house of prayer in embers lay,
The crowded meeting wore away;
The quieted herdboy saw them go
With downcast look, serene and slow;
But never by the wonted path
That wound so smoothly through the heath
And led to many a cottage door
By meadow-stream, and flow'ry moor,
Came back a human voice to say
How that meeting sped away.
The Conon lends the ready ford,
The Conon glitters back the sword,
The Conon casts the echo wide,
"Arise Clanchonich! to the raid;
Pursue the monsters to their lair,
Pursue them hell, and earth, and air;
Pursue them till the page of time
Forgets their name, forgets their crime."
The sun had sunk in the far sea,
But the moon rose bright and merrily,
And by the sparkling midnight beam
That fell upon the gladdened stream;
The wild deer might be seen to look
On his dark shadow in the brook,
Whilst the more timorous hind lay by
Enamoured of the lovely sky.
Bright heaven! 'twas a glorious scene,
The sparry rock, the vale between,
The light arch'd cataract afar
Swift springing like a falling star
From point to point till lost to view,
It fades in deep ethereal blue.
So lone the hour, so fair the night,
The scene, the green and woody height,
Which rises o'er Glenconvent's vale
Like beauty in a fairy tale.
Here where the heavenward soul might stray,
The red remorseless spoiler lay,
Where holy praise was

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