Our numbers, thinnid, our godlike warriors dead,
Pale CALEDONIA hangs her sickly head;
We must be wise, be frugal of our store,
Add art to arms, and caution to our pow'r.
Beneath the sable mantle of the night,
Ruth on the foe, apd, latent, urge the fight.
Conduct with few may foil this mighty pow'r,
And DENMARK thun th' inhospitable fhore.”

The senior spoke : a gen’ral voice approves ;
To arm bis kindred-bands each chief removes.
Night from the east the drousy world invades,
And clothes the warriors in her dulky shades :
The vassal-throng advance, a manly cloud,
And with their fable ranks the chieftains shroud.
Each chief, nuw here, now there, in armour shines,
Waves thro’ the ranks, and draws the lengthen'd

lines. Thus, on a night when rattling tempefts war, Thro' broken clouds appears a blazing star; Now veils its head, now rushes on the light, And shoots a livid horror thro' the night.

The full form'd columns, in the midnight hour, Begin their silent journey tow'rds the fore :

Thr

Thro' ev'ry rank the chiefs inciting roam,
And rouzing whispers hiss along the gloom

A rising hill, whose night-invelop'd brow
Hung o'er th' incamped squadrons of the foe,
Shoots to the deep its ooze immantled arm,
And, steadfast, struggles with the raging storm;
Here ends the moving host its winding road :
And here condenses, like a fable cloud,
Which long was gath'ring on the mountain's brow,
Then broke in thunder on the vales below.

Again the chiefs, in midnight council met, Before the king maintain the calm debate : This waits the 'equal contest of the day, That rushes, headlong, to the nightly fray.

At length young Alpin ftood, and thus begun, “ Great king, fupporter of our antient throne ! Brought up in mountains, and from councils far, I am a novice in the art of war; Yet hear this thought....Within the womb of night, Confirm the troops, and arm the youth for fight; While softly-treading to yon' camp I go, And mark the difpofition of the foe : Or, wakeful, arm they for the dismal fight, Or, wrapt within the lethargy of night,

Are

Are left abandon'd.to our SCOTTISH sword,
By sleep's soft hand, in fatal chains fecur'd.
If Denmark Neeps in night's infolding arms,
Expect your spy to point out latent storms;
But, they. in arms, too long delay'd my speed,
Then place the faithful scout among the dead.”

A gen'ral voice th' exploring thought approves,
And ev'ry wish with youthful Alpin moves,

The Hero Nides along the gloom of night,
The camp-fires send afar their gleaming light ;
Athwart his side the trusty sabre fljes,
The various plaid hangs, plaited, down his thighs :
The crested helm waves, awful, on his head;
His manly trunk the mail and corslet shade :
The pondrous spear fupports his dusky way;
The waving steel reflects the stellar way,

Arriv'd, the dauntless youth solemnly flow,
Obfervant, mov'd along the filent foe.
Some 'brac'd in arms the midnight vigil keep,
Some o'er the livid camp-fires nod to Deep:
The feeding courfer to the stake is bound,
The prostrate horseman stretch'd along the ground:
Extended here the brawny footmap lay,
And, dofing, wore the lazy night away.

The

The watchman there, by sleep's soft hand o'er

power'd; Starts at the blast, and half unsheaths his sword. Th’exploring youth, thro' night's involving cloud; Circling the foe, their disposition view'd. At length the Hero's dufky journey ends, Where Haco feafted with his Danish friends; Haco; by more than Sue No's blood, was great The promis’d monarch of the triple state. The Scandinavian camp the youth secur'd With watchful troops, and not unfaithful sword.

Two oaks, from earth by headlong tempefts torng Supply the fire, and in the circle burn; Around with social talk-the feast they fhare, And drown in bowls the CALEDONIAN War: O'erpower'd, at length, by Alumber's filken hand They press, the beach, and cow'r upon the Strand.

A gallant deed the Mountain-youth design’d, And nursd a growing action in his mind. Awful the chief advanc'd: his armour bright...? Reflects the fire and shines along the night. Hov'ring he stood above the feeping band, And done, an awful column, o'er the trand.

Thus,

Thus, often to the midnight traveller., The stalking figures of the dead appear : Silent the spectre tow'rs before the light, And shines, an awful image, thro' the night. At length the giant phantom hovers o'er Some grave unhallow'd, stain'd with murder'd gore.

Thus ALPIN stood: He.exiles to the dead Six warrior-youths; the trembling remnant fled; Young Haco starts, unsheaths his shining sword, And views his friends in iron-chains fecur'd. He ruhes, headlong, on the daring foe; The godlike ALPIN renders blow for blow. Their clatt'ring swords on either' armour fell; Fire Aafhes round, as steel contends with steel. Young Alpin's sword on Haco's helmet broke, And to the ground the stagg’ring warrior took. Leaning on his broad shield the hero bends; Alpin, aloft in air, his sword luspends : His arın up-rais’d, he downward bends his brow, But scorn'd to take advantage of the foe.

Young Haco from his hand the weapon threw, And from his faming breast these accents drew. « Bravest of men who cou'd thro' night come on, Who durft attack, and foil an host alone.

I