LINES ON THE GRAVE OF A SUICIDE. By strangers left upon a lonely shore, For child to weep, or widow to deplore, Launch on that water by the witches' tow'r, Where hellebore and hemlock seem to weave Round its dark vaults a melancholy bow'r, For spirits of the dead at night's enchanted hour. They dread to meet thee, poor unfortunate! Whose crime it was, on life's unfinish'd road To feel the stepdame buffetings of fate, And render back thy being's heavy load. Ah! once, perhaps, the social passions glow'd In thy devotod bosom-and the hand That smote its kindred heart might yet be prone To deeds of mercy, Who may understand Thy many woes, poor suicide, unknown?He who thy being gave shall judge of thee alone, REULLURA.* STAR of the morn and eve, And well for her might Aodh grieve, Peace to their shades! the pure Culdees By foot of Saxon monk was trode, In Iona preach'd the word with power, *Reullura, in Gaelic, signifies "beautiful star." †The Culdees were the primitive clergy of Scotland, and apparently her only clergy from the sixth to the eleventh century. They were of Irish origin; and their monastery, on the island of Iona or Icolmkill, was the seminary of Christianity in North Britain. Presbyterian writers have wished to prove them to have been a sort of Presbyters, strangers to the Roman Church and Episcopacy. It seems to be established that they were not enemies to Episcopacy; but that they were not slavishly subjected to Rome, like the clergy of later periods, appears by their resisting the Papal ordinances respecting the celibacy of religious men, on which account they were ultimately displaced by the Scottish sove. reigns to make way for more Popish canons. And Reullura, beauty's star, Was the partner of his bower. But, Aodh, the roof lies low, And the thistle-down waves bleaching, Where the Gael once heard thy preaching; Where the chiefs and the people knelt. Alas, with what visions of awe Her soul in that hour was gifted When pale in the temple and faint, Fame said it once had graced Even he, in this very place, "For, woe to the Gael people! And Iona shall look from tower and steeple And, dames and daughters, shall all your locks No! some shall have shelter in caves and rocks And here shall his torch in the temple burn, The waves from Innisfail. And swells to the southern gale. "Ah! knowest thou not, my bride," The holy Aodh said, "That the Saint whose form we stand beside Has for ages slept with the dead?" "He liveth, he liveth," she said again, "For the span of his life tenfold extends Beyond the wonted years of men. He sits by the graves of well-loved friends "Yet, preaching from clime to clime, * His martyrs shall go into bliss for ever. Lochlin, appall'd, shall put up her steel, And thou shalt embark on the bounding keel; Safe shalt thou pass through her hundred ships, With the Saint and a remnant of the Gael, And the Lord will instruct thy lips To preach in Innisfail." The sun, now about to set, O'er the isles of Albyn's sea. And the phantom of many a Danish ship, Our islesmen arose from slumbers, With many a floating corse, And with many a woman's wail. * Denmark. † Ireland. Striking the shield was an ancient mode of convocation to war among the Gael. |