15 Come, buckle thy panoply---march to the field.-- See, brother, how hack'd are thy helmet and shield. Ay, that was M‘Nab, in the height of his pride, When the lions of Dochart stood firm by his side. This night the prond chief his presumption shall rue; Rise, brother, these chinks in his heart-blood will glue : Thy fantacies frightful shall fit on the wing, When loud with thy bugle Glen-Lyon shall ring.' Like glimpse of the moon through the storm of the night Macgregor's red eye shed one sparkle of light: It faded---it darkened--- lie shudder' d---he sigh’d, ' No ! not for the universe !' low he replied. Away went Macgregor, but went not alone To watch the dread rendezvous, Malcolm has gone. They oar'd the broad Lomond, so still and serene ! And deep in her bosom, how awful the scene ! O‘er mountains inverted the blue waters curl d, And rock'd them on skies of a far nether world. All silent they went, for the time was approaching; The moon the blue zenith already was touching ; No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill
