Blair Collection > Celtic magazine > Volume 3

THE CELTIC MAGAZINE. 37
difficulty at aU in affirming. The epithet duhh, applied to him by the
Highlanders who knew him well, and loved him with all their heart,
settles the question beyond aU dispute, let the portraits be read and in-
terpreted as they may.
Like William Edmonstoune Aytoun, I can very honestly say that " I
am not ashamed to own that I have a deep regard for the memory of Lord
Dundee, founded on a firm belief in his public and private virtues, his
high and chivalrous honour, and his unshaken loyalty to his sovereign."'
There are three Grahames or Graems prominent in Scottish song and
story of whom we may all of us well be proud. James Grahame, the
great Marquis of Montrose ; John Grahame, Lord Viscount Dundee, and
General Grahame, Lord Lyndoch. In his " Vision of Don Eoderick,"
Scott has the following very fine stanza in honour of these worthies, and
of an earlier Grahame still, Sir John the Graeme, the stedfast friend of
"Wallace wight." Apostrophizing Lord Lyndoch, he exclaims : —
O ! hero of a race renovcn'd of old,
Wliose war-cry oft has waked the battle-swell,
Since first distinguish'd in the onset bold,
Wild sounding when the Roman rampart fell !
By Wallace' side it rung the Southron's knell,
Alderne, Kilsythe, and TibLer, owned its fame ;
Tummell's rude pass can of its terrors tell,
But ne'er from prouder field arose the name
Than when wild Rouda learn'd the conquering shout of Graeme.
— I am, etc.,
" NETHER-LOCHABEK,"
September 1877.
A HYMN OF YOUTH.
1 gazed upon the eastern sky
As the rosy morn was dawning,
And I felt a rapture in my eye,
For Hope was blushing bright on high,
Beneath the spacious awning.
Oh ! how the hoary mountains smiled,
As they wakened from their dreaming ;
And sweet was the sight of their forms so wild,
And masses so hiyh upon masses piled,
And all in the sunlight beaming.
But sweeter far was the mystic rite.
As the Hunbeam kissed the flower.
While the floweret quivered with fine delight.
And oped its lips, and looked so bright
And happy in its bower.
I thought of the dawn of youthful years —
Of pleasure and love and beauty :
Ah ! friend ! not these can chase our fears,
Nor aught can dry the floweret's tears,
Till high in the radiant heaven appears
The glorious sun of Duty.
MACHAON