Oscar of Alva
A Tale
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
(From Hours of Idleness - 1807)
1
- How sweetly shines through azure skies,
- The lamp of heaven on Loras shore;
- Where Alvas hoary turrets rise,
- And hear the din of arms no more!
2
- But often has yon rolling moon
- On Alvas casques of silver playd;
- And viewd at midnights silent noon,
- Her chiefs in gleaming mail arrayd:
3
- And on the crimsond rocks beneath,
- Which scowl oer oceans sullen flow,
- Pale in the scatterd runks of death,
- She saw the gasping warrior low;
4
- While many an eye which neer again
- Could mark the rising orb of day,
- Turnd feebly from the gory plain,
- Beheld in death her fading ray.
5
- Once to those eyes the lamp of Love,
- They blest her dear propitious light;
- But now she glimmerd from above,
- A sad, funereal torch of night.
6
- Faded is Alvas noble race,
- And gray her towers are seen afar;
- No more her heroes urge the chase,
- Or roll the crimson tide of war.
7
- But who was last of Alvas clan?
- Why grows the moss on Alvas stone?
- Her towers resound no steps of man,
- They echo to the gale alone.
8
- And when that gale is fierce and high,
- A sound is heard in yonder hall;
- It rises hoarsely through the sky,
- And vibrates oer the mouldring wall.
9
- Yes, when the eddying tempest sighs,
- It shakes the shield of Oscar brave;
- But there no more his banners rise,
- No more his plumes of sable wave.
10
- Fair shone the sun on Oscars birth,
- When Angus haild his eldest born
- The vassals round their chieftains hearth
- Crowd to applaud the happy morn.
11
- They feast upon the mountain deer,
- The pibroch raised its piercing note;
- To gladden more their highland cheer,
- The strains in martial numbers float:
12
- And they who heard the war-notes wild
- Hoped that one day the pibrochs strain
- Should play before the heros child
- While he should lead the tartan train.
13
- Another year is quickly past,
- And Angus hails another son;
- His natal day is like the last,
- Nor soon the jocund feast was done.
14
- Taught by their sire to bend the bow,
- On Alvas dusky hills of wind,
- The boys in childhood chased the roe,
- And left their hounds in speed behind.
15
- But ere their years of youth are oer,
- They mingle in the ranks of war;
- They lightly wheel the bright claymore
- And send the whistling arrow far.
16
- Dark was the flow of Oscars hair,
- Wildly it streamd along the gale;
- But Allans locks were bright and fair,
- And pensive seemd his cheek, and pale.
17
- But Oscar ownd a heros soul,
- His dark eye shone through beams of truth;
- Allan had early learnd control,
- And smooth his words had been from youth.
18
- Both, both were brave; the Saxon spear
- Was shiverd oft beneath their steel;
- And Oscars bosom scornd to fear,
- But Oscars bosom knew to feel;
19
- While Allans soul belied his form,
- Unworthy with such charms to dwell:
- Keen as the lightning of the storm,
- On foe, his deadly vengeance fell.
20
- From high Southannons distant tower
- Arrived a young and noble dame;
- With Kenneths lands to form her dower,
- Glenalvons blue-eyed daughter came;
21
- And Oscar claimd the beauteous bride,
- And Angus on his Oscar smiled:
- It soothed the fathers feudal pride
- Thus to obtain Glenalvons child.
22
- Hark to the pibrochs pleasing note!
- Hark to the swelling nuptial song!
- In joyous strains the voices float,
- And still the choral peal prolong.
23
- See how the heroes blood-red plumes
- Assembled wave in Alvas hall;
- Each youth his varied plaid assumes,
- Attending on their chieftains call.
24
- It is not war their aid demands,
- The pibroch plays the song of peace;
- To Oscars nuptials throng the bands,
- Nor yet the sounds of pleasure cease.
25
- But where is Oscar? Sure tis late:
- Is this a bridegrooms ardent flame?
- While thronging guests and ladies wait,
- Nor Oscar nor his brother came.
26
- At length young Allan joind the bride;
- Why comes not Oscar? Angus said.
- Is he not here? the youth replied;
- With me he roved not oer the glade:
27
- Perchance, forgetful of the day,
- Tis his to chase the bounding roe;
- Or oceans waves prolong his stay;
- Yet Oscars bark is seldom slow.
28
- Oh, no! the anguishd Sire rejoind,
- Nor chase nor wave, my boy delay;
- Would he to Mora seem unkind?
- Would aught to her impede his way?
29
- Oh, search, ye chiefs! oh, search around!
- Allan, with these through Alva fly;
- Till Oscar, till my son is found,
- Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply.
30
- All is confusionthrough the vale
- The name of Oscar hoarsely rings,
- It rises on the murmuring gale,
- Till night expands her dusky wings;
31
- It breaks the stillness of the night,
- But echoes through her shades in vain;
- It sounds through mornings misty light,
- But Oscar comes not oer the plain.
32
- Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief
- For Oscar searchd each mountain cave:
- Then hope is lost; in boundless grief,
- His locks in gray-torn ringlets wave.
33
- Oscar! my son! thou God of Heaven,
- Restore the prop of sinking age!
- Or if that hope no more is given,
- Yield his assassin to my rage.
34
- Yes, on some desert rocky shore
- My Oscars whitend bones must lie;
- Then grant, thou God! I ask no more,
- With him his frantic sire may die!
35
- Yet he may live,away, despair!
- Be calm, my soul! he yet may live;
- Tarraign my fate, my voice forbear!
- O God! my impious prayer forgive.
36
- What, if he live for me no more,
- I sink forgotten in the dust,
- The hope of Alvas age is oer:
- Alas! can pangs like these be just?
37
- Thus did the hapless parent mourn,
- Till Time, which soothes severest woe,
- Had bade serenity return
- And made the tear-drop cease to flow.
38
- For still some latent hope survived
- That Oscar might once more appear;
- His hope now droopd and now revived,
- Till Time had told a tedious year.
39
- Days rolld along, the orb of light
- Again had run his destined race;
- No Oscar blessd his fathers sight,
- And sorrow left a fainter trace.
40
- For youthful Allan still remaind,
- And now his fathers only joy:
- And Moras heart was quickly gaind,
- For beauty crownd the fair-haird boy.
41
- She thought that Oscar low was laid,
- And Allans face was wondrous fair;
- If Oscar lived, some other maid
- Had claimd his faithless bosoms care.
42
- And Angus said, if one year more
- In fruitless hope was passd away,
- His fondest scruples should be oer,
- And he would name their nuptial day.
43
- Slow rolld the moons, but blest at last
- Arrived the dearly destined morn
- The year of anxious trembling past,
- What smiles the lovers cheeks adorn!
44
- Hark to the pibrochs pleasing note!
- Hark to the swelling nuptial song!
- In joyous strains the voices float,
- And still the choral peal prolong.
45
- Again the clan, in festive crowd,
- Throng through the gate of Alvas hall;
- The sounds of mirth re-echo loud,
- And all their former joy recall.
46
- But who is he, whose darkend brow
- Glooms in the midst of general mirth?
- Before his eyes far fiercer glow
- The blue flames curdle oer the hearth.
47
- Dark is the robe which wraps his form,
- And tall his plume of gory red;
- His voice is like the rising storm,
- But light and trackless is his tread.
48
- Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round,
- The bridegrooms health is deeply quaffd;
- With shouts the vaulted roofs resound,
- And all combine to hail the draught.
49
- Sudden the stranger-chief arose,
- And all the clamorous crowd are hushd;
- And Angus cheek with wonder glows,
- And Moras tender bosom blushd.
50
- Old man! he cried, this pledge is done;
- Thou sawst twas duly drank by me;
- It haild the nuptials of thy son:
- Now will I claim a pledge from thee.
51
- While all around is mirth and joy,
- To bless thy Allans happy lot,
- Say, hadst thou neer another boy?
- Say, why should Oscar be forgot?
52
- Alas! the hapless sire replied,
- The big tear starting as he spoke
- When Oscar left my hail, or died,
- This aged heart was almost broke,
53
- Thrice has the earth revolved her course
- Since Oscars form has blessd my sight;
- And Allan is my last resource,
- Since martial Oscars death or flight.
54
- Tis well, replied the stranger stern,
- And fiercely flashd his rolling eye;
- Thy Oscars fate I fain would learn;
- Perhaps the hero did not die.
55
- Perhaps, if those whom most he loved
- Would call, thy Oscar might return;
- Perchance the chief has only roved;
- For him thy beltane yet may burn.
56
- Fill high the bowl the table round,
- We will not climb the pledge by stealth;
- With wine let every cup be crownd
- Pledge me departed Oscars health.
57
- With all my soul, old Angus said,
- And filld his goblet to the brim:
- Heres to my boy! alive or dead
- I neer shall find a son like him.
58
- Bravely, old man, this health has sped;
- But why does Allan trembling stand?
- Come, drink remembrance of the dead,
- And raise thy cup with firmer hand.
59
- The crimson glow of Allans face
- Was turnd at once to ghastly hue;
- The drops of death each other chase
- A-down in agonizing dew.
60
- Thrice did he raise the goblet high,
- And thrice his lips refused to taste;
- For thrice he caught the strangers eye
- On his with deadly fury placed.
61
- And is it thus a brothers hails
- A brothers fond remembrance here?
- If thus affections strength prevails
- What might we not expect from fear?
62
- Roused by the sneer, he raised the bowl,
- Would Oscar now could share our mirth!
- Internal fear appalld his soul;
- He said and dashd the cap to earth,
63
- Tis he! I hear my murderers voice!
- Loud shrieks a darkly gleaming form.
- A murderers voice! the roof replies,
- And deeply swells the bursting storm,
64
- The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink,
- The strangers gone,amidst the crew,
- A form was seen in tartan green,
- And tall the shade terrific grew.
65
- His waist was bound with a broad belt round,
- His plume of sable streamd on high;
- But his breast was bare, with the red wounds there,
- And fixd was the glare of his glassy eye.
66
- And thrice he smiled, with his eyes so wild,
- On Angus bending low the knee;
- And thrice he frownd on a chief on the ground
- Whom shivering crowds with horror see
67
- The bolts loud roll from pole to pole
- The thunders through the welkin ring,
- And the gleaming form, through the mist of the storm,
- Was borne on high by the whirlwinds wing.
68
- Cold was the feast, the revel ceased.
- Who lies upon the stony floor?
- Oblivion pressd old Angus breast,
- At length his life-pulse throbs once more.
69
- Away, away! let the leech essay
- To pour the light on Allans eyes;
- His sand is done,his race is run
- Oh! never more shall Allan rise!
70
- But Oscars breast is cold as clay,
- His locks are lifted by the gale;
- And Allans barbed arrow lay
- With him in dark Glentanars vale.
71
- And whence the dreadful stranger came,
- Or who, no mortal wight can tell;
- But no one doubts the form of flame,
- For Alvas sons knew Oscar well.
72
- Ambition nerved young Allans hand,
- Exulting demons wingd his dart;
- While Envy waved her burnng brand,
- And pourd her venom round his heart.
73
- Swift is the shaft from Allans bow;
- Whose streaming life-blood stains his side?
- Dark Oscars sable crest is low,
- The dart has drunk his vital tide.
74
- And Moras eyes could Allan move,
- She bade his wounded pride rebel:
- Alas! that eyes which beamd with love
- Should urge the soul to deeds of hell.
75
- Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb
- Which rises oer a warrior dead?
- It glimmers through the twilight gloom;
- Oh! that is Allans nuptial bed.
76
- Far distant far, the noble grave
- Which held his clans great ashes stood;
- And oer his corse no banners wave,
- For they were staind with kindred blood.
77
- What minstrel gray, what hoary bard,
- Shall Allans deeds on harp-strings raise?
- The song is glorys chief reward,
- But who can strike a murderers praise?
78
- Unstrung, untouchd, th harp must stand,
- No minstrel dare the theme awake;
- Guilt would benumb his palsied hand,
- His harp in shuddering chords would break.
79
- No lyre of fame, no hallowd verse,
- Shall sound his glories high in air:
- A dying fathers bitter curse,
- A brothers death-groan echoes there.
|
|