1790. The boat rocks at the pier of Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, Robert Burns. 16 "IT WAS A' FOR OUR RIGHTFU KING" It was a' for our rightfu' king We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain; My love and native land, farewell, My dear For I maun cross the main. 12 1796. He turn'd him right and round about My dear And, Adieu for evermore! The sodger frae the wars returns, But I hae parted frae my love, My dear Never to meet again. When day is gane, and night is come, And a' folk bound to sleep, I think on him that's far awa', The lee-lang night, and weep, The lee-lang night, and weep. 18 24 30 Robert Burns. PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil. Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! 6 Come from deep glen and True heart that wears one, Leave untended the herd, Come as the winds come when Come as the waves come when Navies are stranded: Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master., Fast they come, fast they come; See how they gather! Wide waves the eagle plume Blended with heather. 24 32 1816. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Knell for the onset! 40 Sir Walter Scott. "HAIL TO THE CHIEF WHO IN TRIUMPH ADVANCES!" From The Lady of the Lake HAIL to the Chief who in triumph advances! Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" o Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the foun tain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Echo his praise again, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 20 Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin. And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied: Glen-Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 30 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the High lands! Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine! O that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! O that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem Honored and blessed in their shadow might 66 1810. grow! Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" Sir Walter Scott. |