ed her burning brand,
And pour'd her venom round his heart.

Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow;
Whose streaming life-blood stains his side?
Dark Oscar's sable crest is low,
The dart has drunk his vital tide.

And Mora's eye could Allan move,
She bade his wounded pride rebel;
Alas! that eyes which beam'd with love
Should urge the soul to deeds of hell.

Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb
Which rises o'er a warrior dead?
It glimmers through the twilight gloom:
O! that is Allan's nuptial bed.

Far, distant far, the noble grave
Which held his clan's great ashes stood;
And o'er his corse no banners wave,
For they were stain'd with kindred blood.

What minstrel grey, what hoary bard,
Shall Allan's deeds on harp-strings raise?
The song is glory's chief reward,
But who can strike a murderer's praise?

Unstrung, untouch'd the harp must stand,
No minstrel dare the theme awake;
Guilt would benumb his palsied hand,
His harp in shuddering chords would break.

No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse,
Shall sound his glories high in air:
A dying father's bitter curse,
A brother's death-groan echoes there."

The incidents immediately preceding Byron's death show that, to his
last moments, he entertained what is generally regarded as
superstitious sentiments. He thought it possible for him to waken from
the sleep of death, and torment those he desired to punish. Perceiving
that he was seriously ill, he called his faithful attendant Fletcher,
and gave him several directions. The servant expressed a hope that he
(his master) would live many years. To this Byron replied, "No, it is
now nearly over;" and then added, "I must tell you all, without losing
a single moment. Now pay attention--You will be provided for--Oh, my
poor dear child, my dear Ada!--could I but see her--give her my
blessing--and my dear sister Augusta and her children--you will go to
Lady Byron, and say--tell her everything." Here his Lordship seemed to
be greatly affected; his voice failed him so much that it was
difficult to understand what he said. After remaining silent for a
short time, he raised his voice and said, "Fletcher: now if you do not
execute every order which I have given you, I will torment you
hereafter, if possible." These were nearly the last words he spoke,
having very soon afterwards fallen into