CARY O'KEAN:

4 Рост.

BY JAMES HOGG.

THE streams of Kilalla were never so sheen,
Her mountains so fair, nor her vallies so green;
The birds of the woodland are blythe as before,
Why hear we the song of the maidens no more?

There's something a-wanting that's nearer the heart,—

O, Nature is strong when unshackled by art;
The prospects of beauty on others rely;
Heart links unto heart, and eye kindles to eye;
And many a dawning shall blush o'er the scene,
Ere the maids of Kilalla be chearful again.

"Tis true, that the streams of her mountains are sheen,
Her woodlands are fair and her meadows are green,
The sunbeam of morning is bright as of yore,
And the shades of the mountain as dark as before;
As mild is the evening, as pure is the dew,
Her breeze is as sweet, and her heaven is as blue;
But, ah! there is one, who is miss'd in the ring,
Then, how can the maidens be blythesome or sing?
The youth is away, for whose pleasure they sung,
The pride of the old, and the joy of the young,
Who made the fair bosom beat briskly and high,
Gave the tint to the cheek, and the dew to the eye;
He is gone! he is gone over channel and main,
And the tears run in torrents for Cary O'Kean.

Young Cary had lov'd, for his heart it was kind,
He lov'd with a flame that was pure and refin'd ;
Of honours or pelf he despised the name,
He lov'd from his heart, and expected the same;
But just as the day of the bridal came on,
The bride look'd disdainful, and bade him begonc;
She wedded a squire, who was sordid and vain,
But ten times as rich as young Cary O'Kean.

Serene is the woe, and the sorrow sublime,

When a friend is remov'd from the precincts of time; For hope, from the fetters of cumbersome clay,

On the wing of eternity journies away,

And views the abodes of the happy and blest,

Where lovers and friends from their sorrows shall rest;
The gloom of the spirit soon grasps the alloy,
And sorrow expands to a twilight of joy.

But, ah! there is something beyond all redress,
Which nature may feel, but can never express;
Too wide for the fancy, too high for the tongue,
When passion is ardent, and reason is young,
A banquet of bliss, or a feeling of grief,

When bound there is none, and when death is relief;
The bourne of the spirit, by misery beset,

I know it too well, and shall never forget

The days of enchantment, the joys that had birth,
Ere she whom I lov'd above all on this earth,

Deceiv'd me, ah !-wo that these hopes ere had been!

O God, thou has will'd it!—I liv'd, and have scen
Another possessing her heart and her charms,
And the child of a fool in her delicate arms:
Down, down with reflection, it maddens my brain-
O, well may I feel for poor Cary O'Kean;
It seem'd as if nature combin'd to destroy
A heart that was form'd for its tenderest joy.

Away and away he has sail'd o'er the deep,
But oft turn'd his face to green Erin to weep!
"Adieu! once lov'd country, thy name be forget,
For interest pervades thee, and feeling is not.

I'll circle the carth, some sweet island to find,
Where primitive innocence models the mind;
Where nature blooms fair on the face of the free,
Where kindness conferr'd shall redouble to me.
There, there will I sojourn, till mem'ry is o'er,
And think of false Ella and Erin no more."

Away they have sail'd over channel and main,
Till vanish'd behind them the stars of the wain;
Unknown was the sky and the track of the wind,
For the sun he was north, and Orion behind ;
Over ocean's wide waste, by lone island and shore,
Which the eye of proud science ne'er measur'd before
Over waves never plow'd, wave their streamers unfurl'd,
For hope was their leader, their limits the world.

The bounds of humanity saw them withdraw,
And all but the triple-wall'd stone house they saw,
Where the world's own axletree thunders and rolls,
In groove of blue icicle hung from the poles ;
Unknown are its workings-unseen is the dome,
Unless by the whale from his window of foam.

But, in all the wide world they found nothing so sweet
As the groves and the streamlets of fam'd Otaheite;
That paradise island, where joys never cease,
That lies like a gem midst an ocean of peace;
Where the verdure and flow'rs never fade on the lea,
And the fruit and the blossom are aye on the tree;
Where beauty blooms wild, which no land can outvie,
And guileless simplicity laughs in the eye.

No sooner had Cary beheld the retreat,

And the beauty misguided that blossom'd so sweet;
The forms so enchanting, the manners so kind,
The bloom of ripe maidhood, with infancy's mind;
The mountains o'er mountains that tower'd to the sky,
And the sweet sheltered vales in their bosoms that lie,
Than a life in that island he fondly devis'd;
The dreams of his fancy were all realiz'd,

For he deem'd that with freedom and honour allied,

As freely he came, he was free to abide.

He rang'd through the woodlands, he heard the birds sing, He ate of the fruit, and he drank of the spring,

The maids he saluted, with courtesy kind,

For love was the passion that temper'd his mind :
His choice was select, when his chance was to see,
That pearl of the ocean, the young Oraee;
He lov'd her at first, for her beauty and youth,
But her artless' esteem and unblemished truth

So gain'd on his heart, and his feelings so mov'd,
Man never so felt, and man never so lov'd!

When on board she was borne, all the wonders to view,
She look'd but at Cary! to Cary she grew.
Her dark liquid eye, like the dew on the sloe,
Still follow'd her lover above and below;
And yet where his smile of sweet sympathy told,
That still abroad on the far ocean roll'd;
eye
Unconscious of ought that could evil imply,
She blush'd and she falter'd, yet never knew why.
No morning so early the land could he reach,
But there she was waiting with smiles on the beach;

Her slender arms spread, while the words she address'd
Well noted the welcome that glow'd in her breast.
And when in the bower of the mountain he slept,
Still o'er him, unwearied, a guardship she kept;
Her arm was his pillow, and over him flew
Her dark tresses warding the sun and the dew:
Then oft when awak'ning, he caught the sweet smile,
And the kiss lightly press'd on his temple the while;
And well of her bosom he felt the fond strife,
Like a pressure of down that had motion and life;
And then she would tell him, as o'er him she hung,
The words that the little birds said when they sung..

How poor the expression, his love to convey,
To say that he lov'd her as life or as day!
All nature to him had but one only gem,
A treasure unvalued-one solę diadem.
Too high were his raptures for mortal to bear,
If they had not been mellow'd by feeling of fear,
For his all was subjected to Nature's behest,
And too good and too dear to be ever possess'd.

He heard of their leaving those isles of the main-
He heard of their sailing to Britain again
Without all emotion, save gladness of heart,
For fix'd was his mind that they never should part.
But what was his pain, when his Captain he told
A smile of contempt in his eye to behold!

He turn'd from him scornful, and laughing amain,
"Such things may not be-you must think once again."
Forthwith he foresaw, that a terrible blow
Awaited his peace, which he could not forego;
A blow with more exquisite torments combin'd,
Than the change of his being from matter to mind;
So he fled with his love to a lonely retreat-

A cave in the mountains of green Otaheite,

Where deep they lay moor'd from the beams of the sun,
Their only resource what they dreaded to shun.

There oft as they felt the sweet breath of the day,
The trembling deserter to heav'n then would pray,
While poor Orace, sadly sighing, withdrew,
And sung a wild hymn to the great Eatoo.
They started at step of the prowling racoon,
And gather'd their fruits by the light of the moon.

The search is extended to cavern and tree-
The Prince is a captive, and found they must be.
Full hard was their fate, for beset was each way,
And poor Oraee was ill able to stray,

For, ah! an unmentioned season drew near!
A time of alarm and anxiety dear!

Yet nightly she travell'd, and 'plaining forbore,
From island to island, from mountain to shore.
Till in a lone forest, of mother forlorn,
Was the beautiful babe of the fugitives born.

Round came their pursuers, intent on their prey,
As helpless at eve in the woodland they lay ;
There were they surrounded-there Cary was ta'en,
As tending his darling, and soothing her pain.
All pale was she seated, beneath the wild tree,
With a fair son of Erin asleep on her knee ;.

With loud shout, of triumph they rush'd on their prey,
They seiz'd on O'Kean, and they bore him away,
Regardless of delicate mother and child,

Her faint cries of sorrow, and ravings so wild.

They scarce look'd around, though she sunk in the sward,
For great was the capture, and high the reward.
O sad was that parting! and woeful the scene!
And frantic the anguish of Cary O'Kean!

On board he is carried, and pinioned fast-
The orders for sailing are issued at last;
And the crew, with a sigh, the last ev'ning greet,
That e'er they should see on the lov'd Otaheite.

That night pass'd away with loud bustle and wail,
And song of the sailor as heaving the sail;

The sounds on the ears of the islanders fell

Like the aerial night-concert that shepherds know well,
When phalanx of swans, at December's behest,
Are journeying to winter on shores of the West,
With whoopings untuneful they wing the dark sky,
And the peasant turns pale at the storm that is nigh.

When dawning arose from the breast of the main,
With earnestness pleaded the wretched O'Kean,
That, bound to the mast, he might stand on the hoy,
One last longing sight of the land to enjoy.

Scarce there was he plac'd, when he saw from the bay A sightly canoe coming sailing away,

And plac'd on the prow a lov'd figure he knew,
Array'd in the mantle of scarlet and blue,

Which erst had her form of virginity drest,

When first with her hand and her love he was blest.

Alert were the rowers, and light the canoe ;
She came like a meteor, till under the prow,
When oh! the young mother look'd pale and aghast,
When she saw her poor Cary bound up to the mast.
She flew to his bosom, and clasp'd him in pain,
But his pinioned arms could not clasp her again.

O never was pleading so warm from the heart!
They pleaded together-they pleaded apart;
With the child in her bosom poor Oraee kneel'd,
Imploring the Captain, whose bosom was steel'd.
"O grant me my husband! O leave him with me!
Or let me go with him across the wide sea.
But sever not two hearts so faithful and true,
Else dread the high vengeance of great Eatoo!
Your love and your home you shall never see more,
But

your blood shall flow red on the tide of the shore."
Though then the tear rush'd to the Captain's proud eye,
Stern duty forbade, and he would not comply.
The moment is come that concluded her stay,
And the mother and infant are order'd away;
She clung to her husband, refusing to go,
And force must compel her to seek the canoe.
She begg❜d for one moment a farewell to take,
For the love of their God, and humanity's sake.
'Tis granted ;-in tranquil and temperate mood
She went to her lover, who motionless stood: