Blair Collection > Treatise on the language, poetry, and music of the Highland clans

OF THE HIGHLAND CLANS.
171
Before lie reached Glenturret's crest,
Nor strength norspeed hadhe tospare ;
But stood all foaming and distressed,
And gasping for the mountain air.
Then laughed the gay, the gallant
Grahana,
As lightly on his feet he sprung,
" Come, I'm a Gael in blood and name,
Let's try who is most swift and strong."
Glenturret we leave far behind,
Leac-Connel's plain, and Garvamore,
Nor halting-place we seek nor find,
Until we gain Drumuachar's core.
There for the night a camp we form,
And spread our sentinels around,
Though wind and rain— a perfect storm —
Made hills and vales and rocks resound.
Again we form, at break of day,
Again in well-knit sections move.
With dauntless tread, in proud array,
The men of Athole's zeal to prove.
Their zeal to prove ? It soon was proved !
Each mother's son, like shadows, fled,
Leaving their women — fair and loved —
To tell why we must lack their aid !
Alas, that warriors, true and brave,
Who love their country and their king.
Should a base feudal leader have,
To lead them as if on a string !
But little do we reck or care
For Athole and its trimming lord ;
Our cause is just, our claymores bare,- —
Such paltry loss we can afford.
Onward, still onward, boldly sweep
The race unmatched yet with the sword.
The well-knit section form they keep
On hill or plain, through moss or ford.
Their weapons gleam, their tartans wave,
Their towering crests invade the skies ;
The dews of toil their foreheads lave,
But courage flashes from their eyes.
While breasting steep Sliavana's side,
A horseman comes with fiery speed,
And says the Whigs, in pomp and pride.
Have boldly crossed the pass of
dread.
Led by the stern and stout Mackay —
A veteran trained to war abroad —
From whom the Orange gold might
buy
His King, his Country, and his God.
The shout of joy our columns gave
When their stern battle met our
view,
Might wake the Komans from their
grave.
Whom here of old our fathers slew.
Stripped to our bonnets, brogues, and
kilt.
We cast all useless weeds away.
Loosed our steel pistols in the belt.
And fiercely claimed the deadly fray.
Clavers arranged each daring clan
In its precise and proper place.
Took his proud station in the van.
And onward moved with dauntless
pace.
When, front to front, we met the foe,
With missiles the slow work began.
And many a shot and shaft they throw
Away, that should have found its
Thus did we waste a precious hour —
That brave men's patience sorely
tried.
Then forth we drew the stem clay-
more,
And rushed upon them, like the tide
Of wild Coire Vrecken, when the
waves
Of the Atlantic's boundless main
Assail the rocks, till clifl"s and caves,
And hills and glens, resound again !