And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the Morning Star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,[1]
Or whispering, with white lips—"The foe! They come! they come!"
XXVI.
And wild and high the "Cameron's Gathering" rose!
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:—
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years,
And Evan's—Donald'sN4 fame rings in each clansman's ears!
XXVII.
And ArdennesN5 waves above them her green leaves,[2]
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass—
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,