'Tis thine, oh Glenullin! whose bride shall | For the blackness of ashes shall mark where

Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing

gate.

A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led—
Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the
dead;

brood.

LOCHIEL.

False wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan;

Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one!

For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,
Culloden that reeks with the blood of the They are true to the last of their blood and

brave.

LOCHIEL.

their breath,

And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.

Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the

Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the scorn?

proud,

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall All plaided and plumed in their tartan array

be torn!

Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth

From his home in the dark rolling clouds of

the north?

WIZARD.

-Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day;

Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,

rode

Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;

But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!

But man cannot cover what God would re

veal;

'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.

Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring

Behold, where he flies on his desolate path! 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from driven

my sight:

From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his heaven.

Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to But where is the iron-bound prisoner?

burn;

Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!

where?

For the red eye of battle is shut in despair

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

369

Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, Come from the hills where your hirsels are forlorn,

Like a limb from his country cast bleeding

and torn?

Ah no for a darker departure is near;

grazing;

Come from the glen of the buck and the

roe;

Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing; Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.

The war-drum is muffled and black is the bier;
His death-bell is tolling. Oh! mercy, dispel
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony Stand to your arms, and march in good order,

swims.

Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,

With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale

LOCHIEL

--Down, sootless insulter! I trust not the tale!

For never shall Albin a destiny meet

So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore,

Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten
shore,

Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains,
While the kindling of life in his bosom re-

mains,

Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!

And, leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

BORDER BALLAD.

MARCH, Inarch, Ettrick and Treviotdale!
Why the de'il dinna ye march forward in
order?

March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale!
All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!

Many a banner spread
Flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story!—
Mount and make ready, then,

Sons of the mountain glen,

Fight for the queen and our old Scottish

glory!

Trumpets are sounding;
War-steeds are bounding;

England shall many a day
Tell of the bloody fray,

When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,

Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew
Summon Clan-Conuil!
Come away, come away-
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war array,

Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one;
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,

The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterred,
The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges:
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come when

Forests are rended;

Come as the waves come when
Navies are stranded!

Quoth I: "My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird, But we'll water it wi' the bluid of usurping

And whare was 't that your prince lay down, Yet the sun through the mist seems to prom