Poetry > Lady of the lake

90
THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
Canto II.
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;
When the. wirlwind has stripp’d every leaf on the
mountain,
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.
Moor’d in the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest’s shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
Echo his praise again,
“ Roderigh Yich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe !”
XX.
Proudly our pibroch lias thrill’d in Glen Fruin,
And Bannachar’s groans to our slogan replied;
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.1
Widow and Saxon maid
Long shall lament our raid,
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;
Lennox and Leven-glen
Shake when they hear again,
Roderigh Yich Alpin dhu, ho! ieroe ! ”
Row, vassals, row for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!
the stroke is lengthened and doubled, as it were, and those which
were timed to the rowers of an ordinary boat.
1 [See Appendix, Note E.]