h a
voice where harmony was exalted by pathos, without exclaiming that the
muse whom she invoked could never find a more appropriate representative.
But Waverley, though the thought rushed on his mind, found no courage to
utter it. Indeed, the wild feeling of romantic delight with which he
heard the few first notes she drew from her instrument amounted almost to
a sense of pain. He would not for worlds have quitted his place by her
side; yet he almost longed for solitude, that he might decipher and
examine at leisure the complication of emotions which now agitated his
bosom.

Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous recitative of the bard
for a lofty and uncommon Highland air, which had been a battle-song in
former ages. A few irregular strains introduced a prelude of a wild and
peculiar tone, which harmonised well with the distant waterfall, and the
soft sigh of the evening breeze in the rustling leaves of an aspen, which
overhung the seat of the fair harpress. The following verses convey but
little idea of the feelings with which, so sung and accompanied, they
were heard by Waverley:--

There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale,
But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael.
A stranger commanded--it sunk on the land,
It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every hand!

The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust,
The bloodless claymore is but redden'd with rust;
On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear,
It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer.

The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse,
Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse!
Be mute every string, and be hush'd every tone,
That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown.

But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past,
The morn on our mountains is dawning at last;
Glenaladale's peaks are illumined with the rays,
And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the blaze.

[Footnote: The young and daring adventurer, Charles Edward, landedat
Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the valley of
Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the Camerons, and other
less numerous clans, whom he had prevailed on to join him. There is a
monument erected on the spot, with a Latin inscription by the late Doctor
Gregory.]

O high-minded Moray! the exiled! the dear!
In the blush of the dawning the STANDARD uprear!
Wid