Alpin
My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead;my voice, for the inhabitants of thegrave. Tall thou art on the hill; fairamong the sons of the plain. But thoushalt fall like Morar; and the mournershalt sit on thy tomb. The hills shallknow thee no more; thy bow shall lie inthe hall, unstrung.
Thou wert swift, O Morar! as adoe on the hill; terrible as a meteor offire. Thy wrath was as the storm ofDecember. Thy sword in battle, aslightning in the field. Thy voice waslike a stream after rain; like thunderon distant hills. Many fell by thyarm; they were consumed in the flamesof thy wrath.
But when thou returnedst from war,how peaceful was thy brow! Thy facewas like the sun after rain; like themoon in the silence of night; calm asthe breast of the lake when the loudwind is laid.
Narrow is thy dwelling now; darkthe place of thine abode. With threesteps I compass thy grave, O thou whowast so great before! Four stones withtheir heads of moss are the only memorialof thee. A tree with scarce a leaf,long grass which whistles in the wind,mark to the hunter's eye the grave ofthe mighty Morar. Morar! thou artlow indeed. Thou hast no mother tomourn thee; no maid with her tears oflove. Dead is she that brought theeforth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.
Who on his staff is this? who is this,whose head is white with age, whoseeyes are red with tears, who quakesat every step?--It is thy father, OMorar! the father of none but thee.He heard of thy fame in battle; he heardof foes dispersed. He heard of Morar'sfame; why did he not hear of hiswound? Weep, thou father of Morar!weep; but thy son heareth thee not.Deep is the sleep of the dead; low theirpillow of dust. No more shall he hearthy voice; no more shall he awake atthy call. When shall it be morn in thegrave, to bid the slumberer awake?
Farewell, thou bravest of men!thou conqueror in the field! but the fieldshall see thee no more; nor the darkwood be lightened with the splendor ofthy steel. Thou hast left no son.But the song shall preserve thy name.Future times shall hear of thee; theyshall hear of the fallen Morar.
Words in this poem
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- mourner n.
- One who mourns or is grieved at any misfortune, as the death of a friend.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- wast
- The second person singular of the verb be, in the indicative mood, imperfect tense; -- now used only in solemn or poetical style.
- scarce a.
- Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- slumberer n.
- One who slumbers; a sleeper.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Alpin is in the public domain. This text is taken from Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Project Gutenberg ebook #8161; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: James Macpherson, Alpin, in Fragments of Ancient Poetry (1760), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #8161, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/macpherson-ossian/alpin.html, id L09652.
Form and metre
Alpin is 59 lines in 6 stanzas. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 70%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.4 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 71% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 2 -AA------ a · ofA · ofA · as · was · thunder · thy · flames · wrath
- 4 -AB----C-BCA- dark · threeA · whoB · with · memorial · leaf · wind · ofC · art · toB · ofC · theeA · morglan
- 5 ----A-----BB-A- this · whose · quakes · o · theeA · heard · morar's · his · morar · not · theirB · hearB · at · theA · awake
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead; | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| my voice, for the inhabitants of the | 10 | ····˘/˘˘·· |
| grave. Tall thou art on the hill; fair | 8 | ········ |
| among the sons of the plain. But thou | 9 | ········· |
| shalt fall like Morar; and the mourner | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| shalt sit on thy tomb. The hills shall | 8 | ········ |
| know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in | 9 | ········· |
| the hall, unstrung. | 4 | ···· |
| Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a | 8 | ········ |
| doe on the hill; terrible as a meteor of | 13 | ····/˘˘··/˘˘· |
| fire. Thy wrath was as the storm of | 9 | /˘······· |
| December. Thy sword in battle, as | 9 | ˘/˘···/˘· |
| lightning in the field. Thy voice was | 8 | /˘······ |
| like a stream after rain; like thunder | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| on distant hills. Many fell by thy | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| arm; they were consumed in the flames | 8 | ···˘/··· |
| of thy wrath. | 3 | ··· |
| But when thou returnedst from war, | 8 | ········ |
| how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| was like the sun after rain; like the | 9 | ········· |
| moon in the silence of night; calm as | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| the breast of the lake when the loud | 8 | ········ |
| wind is laid. | 3 | ··· |
| Narrow is thy dwelling now; dark | 8 | /˘··/˘·· |
| the place of thine abode. With three | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| steps I compass thy grave, O thou who | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| wast so great before! Four stones with | 8 | ········ |
| their heads of moss are the only memorial | 12 | ······/˘˘/˘˘ |
| of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, | 8 | ········ |
| long grass which whistles in the wind, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| mark to the hunter's eye the grave of | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| low indeed. Thou hast no mother to | 9 | ·˘/···/˘· |
| mourn thee; no maid with her tears of | 8 | ········ |
| love. Dead is she that brought thee | 7 | ······· |
| forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Who on his staff is this? who is this, | 9 | ········· |
| whose head is white with age, whose | 7 | ······· |
| eyes are red with tears, who quakes | 7 | ······· |
| at every step?--It is thy father, O | 11 | ·/˘˘····/˘· |
| Morar! the father of none but thee. | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| He heard of thy fame in battle; he heard | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's | 9 | ··˘/····· |
| fame; why did he not hear of his | 8 | ········ |
| wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| weep; but thy son heareth thee not. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Deep is the sleep of the dead; low their | 9 | ········· |
| pillow of dust. No more shall he hear | 9 | /˘······· |
| thy voice; no more shall he awake at | 9 | ······˘/· |
| thy call. When shall it be morn in the | 9 | ········· |
| grave, to bid the slumberer awake? | 9 | ····/˘˘˘/ |
| Farewell, thou bravest of men! | 7 | ·/·/˘·· |
| thou conqueror in the field! but the field | 10 | ·/˘˘······ |
| shall see thee no more; nor the dark | 8 | ········ |
| wood be lightened with the splendor of | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| thy steel. Thou hast left no son. | 7 | ······· |
| But the song shall preserve thy name. | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Future times shall hear of thee; they | 8 | /˘······ |
| shall hear of the fallen Morar. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
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