O'er an old battlefield there rushed
A wind, and with a moan
The severed limbs all rustling rose,
Even fellow-bone to bone.
"Lo! there he goes," I heard them cry,
"Like babe in swathing-band,
Who shook the temples of the Lord,
And passed them 'neath his brand.
Cursed be the spot where he was born,
There let the adders dwell,
And from his father's hearthstone hiss:
All hail to thee, Dalzell!"
I saw thee growing like a tree—
Thy green head touched the sky—
But birds far from thy branches built,
The wild deer passed thee by;
No golden dew dropt on thy bough,
Glad summer scorned to grace
Thee with her flowers, nor shepherds wooed
Beside thy dwelling-place:
The axe has come and hewn thee down,
Nor left one shoot to tell
Where all thy stately glory grew:
Adieu, adieu, Dalzell!
An ancient man stands by thy gate,
His head like thine is grey;
Grey with the woes of many years,
Years fourscore and a day.
Five brave and stately sons were his;
Two daughters, sweet and rare;
An old dame, dearer than them all,
And lands both broad and fair:
Two broke their hearts when two were slain,
And three in battle fell —
An old man's curse shall cling to thee:
Adieu, adieu, Dalzell!
And yet I sigh to think of thee,
A warrior tried and true
As ever spurred a steed, when thick
The splintering lances flew.
I saw thee in thy stirrups stand,
And hew thy foes down fast,
When Grierson fled, and Maxwell failed,
And Gordon stood aghast,
And Graeme, saved by thy sword, raged fierce
As one redeemed from hell.
I came to curse thee—and I weep:
So go in peace, Dalzell!
When this wild and unusual rhyme concluded, the Came-
