Ossian Collection > Gaelic bards

232 ORIGINAL POEMS.
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 chiefs attended,
Rudely now the hero's led;
Yet he w^akes not from the slumber
Of yon red and mossy bed.
For the sad stamp's on his features
Which Dubh Shoe's hard arrow bore ;
On the moor Clan Gillian redden'd
With their brave and boiling gore.
Only two are with tiie driver
Of a rolling, rocking car,
Stretch'd whereon the dead man's carried
From the fiery field of war.