Ossian Collection > Selections from the Gaelic bards

SIR LACHL.VN MOR. 219
Lachlau to the place where they still lie buried. A spirited
gentleman of the clan recently endeavoured to raise a sum suffi-
cient to erect a monument over the grave of this chief — the most
famous and the ablest the MacLeans ever had; but unfortunately
he did not succeed to his satisfaction.
Slowly, from the field of slaughter,
Do they bring Sir Lachlan Mòr ;
Slowly, o'er the weary moorland,
From the dank and deadly shore.
Slowly, and in bitter sorrow.
Through a rough and rugged way,
With the yellow beams upon it
Of the sickly setting day.
Ah! how lowly lies the leader;
See how pale his face is now ;
Never in the hall or highway —
Never on the mountain brow —
Shall his step be laid majestic;
Shall his stately form be seen ;
Shall his voice inspire the council,
Or the fight his manly mien.
Never shall his clan behind him
Gather in the joy of fight;
Never draw their cold blue weapons —
Hard and deadly — glancing bright.
Poorly now the chief's attended,
Rudely now the hero's led;
Yet he wakes not from the slumber
Of yon red and mossy bed.