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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519681" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bard's Incantation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Forest of Glenmore is drear,<br>It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree;<br>And the midnight wind to the mountain deer,<br>Is whistling the forest lullaby:<br>The moon looks through the drifting storm,<br>But the troubled lake reflects not her form,<br>For the waves roll whitening to the land,<br>And dash against the shelvy strand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a voice among the trees,<br>That mingles with the groaning oak-<br>That mingles with the stormy breeze,<br>And the lake-waves dashing against the rock;-<br>There is a voice within the wood,<br>The voice of the Bard in fitful mood;<br>His song was louder than the blast,<br>As the Bard of Glenmore through the forest past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wake ye from your sleep of death,<br>Minstrels and bards of other days!<br>For the midnight wind is on the heath,<br>And the midnight meteors dimly blaze:<br>The Spectre with the Bloody Hand,<br>Is wandering through the wild woodland;<br>The owl and the raven are mute for dread,<br>And the time is meet to awake the dead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Souls of the mighty, wake, and say<br>To what high strain your harps were strung <br>When Lochlin plough'd her billowy way,<br>And on your shores her Norsemen flung?<br>Her Norsemen train'd to spoil and blood,<br>Skill'd to prepare the Raven's food,<br>All, by your harpings, doom'd to die<br>On bloody Largs and Loncarty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Mute are ye all? No murmurs strange<br>Upon the midnight breeze sail by;<br>Nor through the pines, with whistling change<br>Mimic the harp's wild harmony!<br>Mute are ye now? - Ye ne'er were mute,<br>When Murder with his bloody foot,<br>And Rapine with his iron hand,<br>Were hovering near yon mountain strand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O, yet awake, the strain to tell,<br>By every deed in song enrollâ€™d,<br>By every chief who fought or fell<br>For Albion's weal in battle bold:-<br>From Coilgach, first, who rolled his car<br>Through the deep ranks of Roman war,<br>To him, of veteran memory dear,<br>Who, victor, died on Aboukir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'By all their swords, by all their scars,<br>By all their names, a mighty spell!<br>By all their wounds, by all their wars,<br>Arise the mighty strain to tell!<br>For, fiercer than fierce Hengistâ€™s strain,<br>More impious than the heathen Dane,<br>More grasping than all grasping Rome,<br>Gaulâ€™s ravening legions hither come!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wind is hush'd, and still the lake-<br>Strange murmurs fill my tinkling ears,<br>Bristles my hair, my sinews quake<br>At the dread voice of other years-<br>'When targets clash'd and bugles rung,<br>And blades round warriors' heads were flung,<br>The foremost of the band were we,<br>And hymned the joys of liberty!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519681" data-title="The Bard's Incantation de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="The Forest of Glenmore is drear,
It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree;
And the midnight wind to the mountain deer,
Is whistling the forest lullaby:
The moon looks through the drifting storm,
But the troubled lake reflects not her form,
F..."></div>
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