TRACY DE VORE AND HUBERT GREY.
But ah! the whistle and the horn
Are only echoed back;
No Hubert comes-and now they reach
The highest mountain track.
Are only echoed back;
No Hubert comes-and now they reach
The highest mountain track.
The foot of Oswald presses on,
Right cautiously, and slow;
For few would dare, like Hubert Grey,
Near Morna's edge to go.
Right cautiously, and slow;
For few would dare, like Hubert Grey,
Near Morna's edge to go.
The dark gulf breaks with frightful yawn,
Terrific to the gaze;
A murky horror shades the spot,
Beneath meridian rays.
Terrific to the gaze;
A murky horror shades the spot,
Beneath meridian rays.
But hush!—that sound—a hollow moan—
Again, a stifled, gurgling groan!
The mother stands, nor speaks nor moves,
Transfixed with mute dismay!
The vassal fears, his footsteps shrink;
He trembles as he gains the brink:
He shudders, looks with straining eyes
Adown the abyss—"O Heaven!" he cries,
"Tis he 'tis Hubert Grey!"
Again, a stifled, gurgling groan!
The mother stands, nor speaks nor moves,
Transfixed with mute dismay!
The vassal fears, his footsteps shrink;
He trembles as he gains the brink:
He shudders, looks with straining eyes
Adown the abyss—"O Heaven!" he cries,
"Tis he 'tis Hubert Grey!"
Yes, yes, 'tis he! the herdsman's son—
The bold, the bright, the daring one.
He hath bent him o'er to reach the flowers.
That spring along the dreaded steep:
His brain grows dizzy—yet again—
He snatches, totters, shrieks, in vain—
He falls ten fathoms deep!
The bold, the bright, the daring one.
He hath bent him o'er to reach the flowers.
That spring along the dreaded steep:
His brain grows dizzy—yet again—
He snatches, totters, shrieks, in vain—
He falls ten fathoms deep!
The groan that met his mother's ear,
Gave forth his latest breath:
The mountain boy is sleeping fast,
The dreamless sleep of death.
Gave forth his latest breath:
The mountain boy is sleeping fast,
The dreamless sleep of death.
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