Gormo, Private Secretary to the King of the Blue Mountain!
to Stella, Maid of the Sounding Song
Twelve moons have passed since first our Royal Gnome
Heard thy sweet verse beneath proud Cairn Gorm’s dome.
The feast was spread, the Chieftains thronged the board
Returned from conquest o’er Ben Lomond’s board;
Elate, they told the glory of the day
To brother Chiefs who had not shared the fray,
The banquet cheer’d, the goblets pass’d so free,
The crystal halls resound with revelry.
At length a pause, when lo! the warlike throng
Heard the soft warbling of a distant song!
Starting, tho pleased, at the unwonted sound
They sought the cause in many a cave profound
Through many a rocky arch and passage rude
The voice they followed and their search pursued.
Ascending still toward the upper earth,
They see a creature of aerial birth,
Deep in a grotto of fantastic form
The unconscious tenant of the great Cairn Gorm!
A minstrel sylph who left the flowery plain
And wandered thoughtless to our dark domain,
Careless he sat, in youthful fancy free
Wooing the echoes with his minstrelsy.
Straight to the Mountain King they bear their prize
Far from enamelled meads and azure skies,
The monarch smiled upon the captive boy
And soon in music found a new-born joy