There was wailing on the early breeze, and darkness in the sky, When, with sable plume, and cloak, and pall, a funeral train swept by; Methought--St. Mary, shield us well!--that other forms moved there, Than those of mortal brotherhood, the noble, young, and fair! Was it a dream?--how oft, in sleep, we ask, "Can this be true?" Whilst warm imagination paints her marvels to our view;-- Earth's glory seems a tarnish'd crown to that which we behold, When dreams enchant our sight with things whose meanest garb is gold! Was it a dream?--methought the "dauntless Harold" passed me by-- The proud "Fitz-James," with martial step, and dark, intrepid eye; That "Marmion's" haughty crest was there, a mourner for his sake; And she, the bold, the beautiful, sweet "Lady of the Lake." The "Minstrel," whose _last lay_ was o'er, whose broken harp lay low, And with him glorious "Waverley," with glance and step of wo; And "Stuart's" voice rose there, as when, 'midst fate's disastrous war, He led the wild, ambitious, proud, and brave "Ich Ian Vohr." Next, marvelling at his sable suit, the "Dominie" stalk'd past, With "Bertram," "Julia" by his side, whose tears were flowing fast; "Guy Mannering," too, moved there, o'erpowered by that afflicting sight; And "Merrilies," as when she wept on Ellangowan's height. Solemn and grave, "Monkbarns" approached, amidst that burial line; And "Ochiltree" leant o'er his staff, and mourn'd for "Auld lang syne!" Slow march'd the gallant "McIntyre," whilst "Lovel" mused alone; For _once_, "Miss Wardour's" image left that bosom's faithful throne! With coronach, and arms reversed, forth came "MacGregor's" clan-- Red "Dougal's" cry peal'd shrill and wild--"Rob Roy's" bold brow look'd wan; The fair "Diana" kissed her cross, and bless'd its sainted ray; And "Wae is me!" the "Bailie" sighed, "that I should see this day!" Next rode in melancholy guise, with sombre vest and scarf, Sir Edward, Laird of Ellieslaw, the far-renowned "Black Dwarf;" Upon his left, in bonnet blue, and white locks flowing free-- The pious sculptor of the grave--stood "Old Mortality!" "Balfour of Burley," of "Claverhouse," the "Lord of Evandale," And stately "Lady Margaret," whose woe might naught avail! Fierce "Bothwell" on his charger black, as from the conflict won; And pale "Habakuk Mucklewrath," who cried, "God's will be done!" And like a rose, a young white rose, that blooms mid wildest scenes, Passed she,--the modest, eloquent, and virtuous "Jeanie Deans;" And "Dumbedikes," that silent laird, with love too _deep_ to _smile_, And "Effie," with her noble friend, the good "Duke of Argyle." With lofty brow, and bearing high, dark "Ravenswood" advanced, Who on the false "Lord Keeper's" mien with eye indignant glanced; Whilst graceful as a lonely fawn, 'neath covert close and sure, Approached the beauty of all hearts--the "Bride of Lammermoor!"