THE REPLY. Say on-it is a daughter's part, I could not bear one word from thee, For he is rich, and noble too, In wealth of heart and mind, The stamp of aristocracy, That nature can bestow. The proudest peer throughout the land In vain my love may sue How could the heart that pledged this hand, To Philip prove untrue? Though filial duty bid me bow To thy all stern decree, None other shall receive my vow, Or shake my constancy !— Oh! mother, let the love that smiled Upon thy early years, Return to bid thee save thy child From misery and tears. THE CASTLE OF LAWERS. BY LORD WILLIAM GRAHAM. THE feast was high in the ancient hall of Lawers; the chief of the Campbells had that day entered his fiftieth year, and his kinsmen and retainers from every part of the country were gathered together to celebrate Breadalbane's birth-day. Around the hall were hung the trophies of the chase and the triumphs of war. The noble antlers of the stag were crossed with the broad sword and the targe; while the casque and spear, and burnished breast-plate, showed, that though in profound peace the chieftain was ever ready for the fight. In the middle, hung the broad banner of the Breadalbanes; and beneath, the escutcheon of their arms, with the proud and chivalric motto, "Follow me!" The table in the centre of the hall groaned beneath the burden of the feast at the upper end, on a seat of dais, sat the noble chieftain, with high features and commanding look; but, ever and anon, a dark scowl from his shaggy eyebrows seemed to tell that Breadalbane never forgave an offence. However, generous in peace, and fortunate in war, his vassals followed willingly whithersoever he led. About him sat the ladies of his house, with fair hair and glancing eyes, bedecked with rich robes and precious stones, that glittered and shone in the flickering light of the blazing pine torches with which the hall was illuminated. But, one there was of surpassing beauty; her long sunny ringlets clustered on her graceful neck, which rivalled in whiteness the plumage of the ptarmigan, when the ground is covered with Her blue eyes, as she gazed vacantly on the scene snow. before her, poured forth a kind of dreamy light; but if aught said or done touched the latent feelings of her heart, the orbs suddenly expanded, and were lighted up with all the glow of enthusiasm, or of passionate indignation. This was the Lady Alice, a cousin of the house of Breadalbane, and one who cared not to mingle too much in the gaieties and follies of the rest. For, most of all, did she delight to wander alone on the heathery mountains when the summer suns were setting in the west, and to linger and watch each departing ray, as it silently disappeared, like the vanishing hopes of glory. Sometimes, would she go forth when the spirit of the storm brooded on the hills; and, wrapping her mantle around her, listen to the groaning of the tempest and the rushing of the winds, till she returned with her hair and her dress all dripping with the out-pourings of its fury. Often, would the Lord of Breadalbane chide her for these her wanderings, unbecoming, as he would say, in a noble lady. With that, would her eye glisten, her lips part as if to give utterance to the workings within; but anon, remembering the respect due to the head of her house, she would smother her rising feelings, and lower her head in token of feudal obedience. In the evening, she again won back the chieftain's smile, by pouring forth her mellow voice in the songs of her native country, some spirit-stirring ballad of love and war; or almost melt even his iron nature to tears, by lingering, with melancholy strains, over some touching lament for the dead. Such was the Lady Alice: but at the present moment she gazed upon the rude and boisterous scene with a vacant air, as if her thoughts were wandering far away from the festal board. Albeit, now did the feast become more joy X |