History of the Clan MacLean from its first settlement at Duard Castle, in the Isle of Mull, to the present period

422
Appendix.
For the sad stamp's on his features
"Which Dubh Shee's hard arrow bore ;
On the moor Clan Gillian reddened
With their brave and boiling gore.
Only two are with the driver
On a rolling, rocking car,
Stretch'd whereon the dead man's carried
Prom the fiery field of war.
Two that walk in silent sorrow —
Ladies of his kindred are —
Mourning, to the field of slaughter
Come to seek him from afar.
As they drive him slowly onward,
O'er the bad and broken way,
His head, with all its matted tresses.
Nodded where he lifeless lay.
Then the driver laugh'd who saw him,
Large and massy lie along,
Senseless, soulless — him so lately
Foremost in the martial throng.
Laugh'd I and quicker drove him onward,
Yet again to see the head
Nodding, without will or reason,
"With its light of manhood fled.
Nodding at the boor who jeered him
With that mean, malicious scorn,
Nursed in secret by the envy
In the vulgar spirit born.
Then the ladies hastened forward —
Not a word the younger said.
"While the tears rained down in anguish
On the wan face of the dead.
But the elder damsel answered:
" ^augh"st thou at my fallen chief?
May thy own vile carcass, caitifl^
Fill thy mother's heart with grief I"
Out she drew the chieftain's dagger.
As she hurled this angry cry
At the boor who gloomed before her,
"With his dull and threatening e3'e.
And she struck him down and left him
Stretched beneath the sunbeams there,
Like a wild fowl by the falcon
Swept from out the fields of air.
Then, alone, their dead they carried,
"While one nursed the manly brow —
Nursed it on her bosom gently.
Like a holy, heavenly vow.
And one — tenderly she drove him
To the sad and solemn ground,
"Where the hero's dust reposes
"With the moldering ashes round.
Soft and slowly there we leave them —
Chieftain ! may thine ashes rest,
Peaceful as the voice of prayer
From a oalm, untroubled breast I
Long as sound the breezes o'er them,
Sound the voice of psalms beside ;
And spread Christ's peace-speaking gospel
From thy green sod far and wide !
No. 15. — The Battle of Knockbreck.
[This poem is an English translation of a lost epic poem written in Latin, and called the Grameis.
The original was composed by Phillipps of Amryscloss, a zealous Jacobite. This version is talien from
Account of Clan MacLean.]
They pierced, and through the furious squadron
broke
With sword in hand; nor halted they until
They gained a neighboring eminence, a rock.
Whose frowning top, among the clouds concealed,
Shewed all its battered sides with rugged stones
And fragments huge perplexed, and took its name
From blood which their impervious surface stained;
Where, as with ramparts fenced, secure tliey lodged,
superior to the foe.
Thither, in haste, and with collected strength of
different lands,
Germans, Dutch, English, rebel Scots, and Danes,
The adverse troop pursue. Oft did they aim
With fire and sword to storm the rugged camp,
But all in vain. With spears, and darts, and stones,
And rocks, which tumbling down with hideous din,
O'erwhelm'd both horse and man, they headlong
drove
Meantime Lochbuie from the stormy isle
Of warlike Mull advanced to join Dundee;
Threehundred brave MacLeanscomposed his train,
A generous, loyal clan, whose faithful blood
Untainted filled his veins. Quick he marched along
The banks of Spey in silence of the night.
The royal camp unknown, a stranger he.
And unacquainted with the gloomy shade,
Upon a hostile troop of Belgic horse—
The advanced guard, whom he believed his
friends —
Erroneous fell. "Stop!" the hoarse sentry bawled
In horrid Dutch, and straight upon them fired;
The rest alarmed, a thundering peal of shot
Discharged, and tore the air with fire and smoke.
The brave MacLeans their compliment returned,
And scattered flaming death among the foe.
Then forming in a wedge, their thickest lines