The wild rose, eglantine, and broom Wasted around their rich perfume;The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm;

The aspens slept beneath the calm;

The silver light, with quivering glance, Played on the water's still expanse,--Wild were the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray!

He felt its calm, that warrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast:--'Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race?

Can I not mountain maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye?

Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand?

Can I not frame a fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme?

I'll dream no more,-- by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resigned.

My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more.'

His midnight orisons he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturbed repose, Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, And morning dawned on Benvenue.

CANTO SECOND.

The Island.