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

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Appendix.
Ere died the echoes of the lay,
An oar-song swept across the bay;
Ere turned the youth his skiff to reach,
Swift footsteps ran along the beach :
Before him came MacDougalls dread,
Eeturning from an island raid;
Behind him came MacDougalls wild.
Aroused to guard their chieftain's child.
Their startling yells of rage were flung.
And back from grey Dunolly rung.
The oarsmen heard the well-known cry.
And fiercer far pealed their reply;
Their stalwart arms out sternward went,
Their lithe backs forward lowly bent.
To simultaneous motion prone.
Their oars arose and fell as one.
Impelled with danger's vigor new,
Swift o'er tHie bay each galley flew ;
Like arrows shot from full-drawn bows.
On sped the billow-cleaving prows,
Till driven on the shingle nigh,
The oaken keels arose on high.
"With sudden bound unto the shore,
Each clansman leapt with drawn claymore.
Bare-armed, unbonneted they ran,
To join the members of their clan
Ranged round a stalwart youth, who stood
Bold-fronted 'mid the savage brood.
At every point the thirsty brands
Around hira flashed in angi'y hands.
"With eagle eye, and undismaj-ed,
The stranger drew his trusty blade.
And tighter grasped his studded shield,
And firmer stood upon the field.
And watchful as u wolf at bay,
His lightning eye did them survey;
Nor quailed, nor flinched, tho' well he saw
The gathering horde still closer draw.
No coward heart within him beat.
Nor sought he safety in retreat;
Unequal tho' the contest seemed.
Defiance on his features gleamed.
One hurried glance he flung above,
"Where dwelt the maiden of his love —
A pale face from a window peered,
A sigh upon the wind careered,
A whisper trembled in the air,
As if an angel breathed a prayer. —
"Undaunted all, and scorning death.
He faced his foes and held his breath,
With back against King Fingal's rock
He boldly met their onset shock,
And flung his haughty looks of scorn
Upon MacDuugall, Chief of Lorn.
II.
O! Isles of the West, lovely Isles of the
West,
As emeralds set in the blue ocean's breast.
The birth-place of clansmen war-nurtured and
fcrave.
The home where the tempest king rides on the
wave.
Where thunders roll on in their terrible
might.
And keen lightnings dance on each peak with
delight;
Where Morning's dawn-raj-s o'er the moun-
tain-crests run,
And gloaming descends as a sigh from the
sun ;
Where pale ghosts career on the mist-
shrouded hills.
And heard are their wails in the songs of the
rills;
Where beauty is shrined in each lone, grassy
vale.
And wee flowerets laun-h to the voice of the
gale;
Where unfettered peace as a heaven presides.
And Nature's sweet loveliness ever abides;
Where maidens and youths, round their dim
cottage fires,
Exultingly tell of the deeds of their sires;
Or sing with emotion the grand battle lays
Of heroes who fought in the far-away days
Eor king and for chieftain, for honor and
love,
For aught that would valor or dignity prove.
O ! Isles of the West, ever bosomed in song,
My Highland harp whispers — the sound I'll
prolong ;
Speak on! my dear harp; list! it trembles
again.
Its theme — The MacDougall and dauntless
MacLeanI
The sun-rays had fled from the mountains of
Lorn,
And kissed the cloud peaks looming jagged
and riven.
That westward were trailing as wanderers
forlorn
Upon the broad heaths of the night-tinted
heaven.
Peace clothed the green valleys, the hills, and
the isles,
The strange sounds of silence seemed won-
drously clear —