But the melody died 'inid derision and laughter, As the host of ungodly rushed on to the slaughter. Though in mist, and in darkness and fire, they were shrouded, Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded; Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as firm and unbending, They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending. THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. I'll crown them east, I'll crown them west, They bore the gree in free fighting, And ne'er were slack their swords to draw. They wan the day wi' Wallace wight; The muskets were flashing, the blue swords Cheer up your hearts, brave cavaliers, were gleaming, The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming, Till the gallant Grahams come o'er the sea. The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was At the Gouk head, where their camp was rolling, When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling. When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended, A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; Its drivers were angels on horses of white ness, set, They rade the white horse and the gray, A' glancing in their plated armor, As the gowd shines in a Summer's day. But woe to Hacket, and Strachan baith, And its burning wheels turned upon axles of Now fare ye weel, sweet Ennerdale, brightness. A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, All dazzling like gold of the seventh refin ing, And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation, Baith kith and kin that I could name; LOCHABER NO MORE. Have mounted the chariots and steeds of FAREWELL to Lochaber! and farewell, my salvation. On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding, Jean, Where heartsome with thee I hae mony day been! For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, Through the path of the thunder the horse- We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more! These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear, men are riding Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is be- And no for the dangers attending on war, LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Here's timmer that 's red at the heart, LOCHIEL. 371 Here's fruit that 's sound at the core! May he that would turn the buff and blue coat Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling Be turned to the back o' the door. Here's a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd, Though bred amang mountains o' snaw! Here's friends on baith sides o' the Forth, And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed; And wha would betray old Albion's rights, May they never eat of her bread! ROBERT BURNS. LOCHIEL'S WARNING. WIZARD-LOCHIEL. WIZARD. LOCHIEL, Lochiel! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! seer! Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. WIZARD. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth From his home in the dark rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might, Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the Whose banners arise on the battlements' slain, height, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to plain. burn; But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, of war What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? 'Tis thine, oh Glenullin! whose bride shall And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing await, For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock! Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock! But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, When Albin her claymore indignantly draws; When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, LOCHIEL. -Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the For never shall Albin a destiny meet Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten All plaided and plumed in their tartan array-Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom re Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and Come from the hills where your hirsels are Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Stand to your arms, and march in good order. Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat, England shall many a day Tell of the bloody fray, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. gale SIR WALTER SCOTT. |