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OF THE HIGHLAND I'LANS.
233
From the chosen apartments,
Assigned for their nightly repose
By their hosts, in their kindness.
In the silence of night they arose
And stole on the sleepers,
Who dreamed not of treachery or strife,
And delivered, in safety.
The volley that robbed them of life.
IIow beauteous and shapely
The forms that have thus been laid low,
Or left, wounded and bleeding.
Inhuming themselves in the snow ;
Men whose joy 'twas to listen
At eve to the harp and the lay.
Singing praises of heroes
Who were courteous, and kindl}', and
gay-
Woe, woe to the country
Whose government cruel and blind,
To her best and bravest
A sentence like this has assigned,
And calls to her service.
And makes her support and her stay
Of the countryless soldier.
Whose soul has no thought but his pay !
While by these, next to Heaven,
Their country and king were adored ;
For their freedom and glory
They would lay down their lives at a
word.
Now Albyn, dear Albyn,
Thy freedom, thy glory are gone.
Foreign armies coerce thee —
A foreigner sits on thy throne.
Woe, woe to the pastors,
Whatever their object may be,
Whose preachings and treasons
Have produced the dark changes we see.
Now men who loved mercy,
In murder God's glory behold.
And rejoice at the horrors
War over their country has rolled.
My heart sinks and sickens
To see, as they hang on their walls.
Their trophies and weapons,
Whose dear presence I miss from tlieir
halls—
AVhose voices were music,
Attuned to their mind's varied tone ;
Who in mirth and broad humour.
And in repartee pleasingly shone.
The dirge* of their greyhoumls
Is solemnly heard through the glen.
The deer browse and wander,
The gaunt wolves rejoice in their deu ;
Their fishing gear rusteth.
While, rivers and lakelets between,
The salmon are sporting
With joy in their radient sheen.
Not vain or conceited
Were the men who repose in the i.sle,
Shunning danger, and boasting
Theirvaliant achievements the while.
No. Modest as daring.
Their deeds spoke their greatness of
mind ;
So they served their dear country.
All, all to their worth might be blind !
Now our clansmen are gathered
In the Dun, to consult and devise ;
I3ut, alas ! he is absent who was
Eloquent, daring, and wise.
The main plume in our pinion.
In our birlin the helm and the oar,
In Saint Mun's Isle is sleeping,
And will shine in our council no more.
* The old Highland greyhound \ras equally remaikable foi- his Bagacity and the strength of hia
pttaclimeut to his master. His howl is the most solemn and melancholy imaginable. Hence, perhaps,
the leason wliy it has long been regarded as ominous and predictive of death or some other calamity in
the Highlands. He laments his master's death by wandering over his old haunts, stopping at regular
intervals, and setting up his dirge-like howl, than which it is difficult to conceive anylhiiig more tourhins

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