3
His blithest notes the piper plied.
Her gayest snood the maiden tied,
The dame her distaff flung aside,
To send her kind’y housewifery.
“The hand that mingled in the meal,
At midnight drew the felon steel
And gave the host’s kind breast to feel
Meed for his hospitality
The friendly hearth which warm’d that-hand;
At midnig’t arm d it with the brand,
That bade destruction’s flames expand,
Their red and fearful blazonry.
Then woman’s shriek was head in vain.
Nor infancy’s unpitied plain,
More than the warriors groan could gain,
Respite from ruthless butchery!
The winter wind that whistled shril,
The snows that night that cloaked the hills
Though wild and pitiless, had still
Far more than south'ron clemency.
“Long has my ha p's best notes been gone.
Few are its strings, and faint their tone.
They can but sound in desert lone,
