And a Covenant seal'd as they swore by the Lord,
Their bibles and birthright to guard with the sword.
These Priests from their kirks by the prelates were driven
A shelter to seek with the fowls of heaven;
The wet mist their covering, the heather their bed.
By the springs of the desert in peril they fed.
At the risk of their lives, with their flocks they would meet,
In the storm and in tempest, in rain and in sleet;
Where the mist on the moorglens lay darkest, 'twas there
In the thick cloud concealed, they assembled for prayer.
At their wild mountain worship no warning bell rung
But, the sentries were fix'd ere the psalm could be sung.
When the preacher his Bible brought forth from his plaid,
On the damp rock beside him his drawn sword he laid.
The sleepless assemblies around him who met
Were houseless and hungry, and weary and wet;
The wilderness wandering, through peril and strife.
To be fill'd with the word and the waters of life.
For in cities the wells of salvation were seal'd,
More brightly to burst in the moor and the field;
And the Spirit, which fled from the dwellings of men,
Like a manna-cloud rain'd round the camp of the glen.
I beheld in my vision a prince on his throne;
Around him in glory the mitred heads shone;
And the sovereign assembly said, "Who shall go forth
In the moorlands to murder the priests of the north!
"Our horsemen have hunted the moor and the wood.
But often they shrink from the shedding of blood;
And some we sent forth with commission to slay,
Have with Renwick remain'd in the mountains to pray.
"Is there no one among us whose soul and whose sword
Will hew down in the desert that priesthood abhorr'd
With their blood, on the people's minds print our decree?
The warriors reward shall be 'Viscount Dundee.'"
'Twas a title of darkness, dishonour, and shame;
No warrior would wear it, save Claver’se the Graham.
With a warrant of death like a demon he flew,
In the blood of his brethren his hands to imbrue.
