And mimic din of stroke and ward,

As broad-sword upon target jarr'd;

And groaning pause, ere yet again,
Condensed, the battle yell'd amain;
The rapid charge, the rallying shout,
Retreat borne headlong into rout,
And bursts of triumph, to declare
Clan-Alpine's conquest-all were there.
Nor ended thus the strain; but slow,
Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low,
And changed the conquering clarion swell,

For wild lament o'er those that fell.

XVIII.

The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill

Were busy with their echoes still ;

And, when they slept, a vocal strain

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,
While loud a hundred clans-men raise

Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.

Each boat-man, bending to his oar,

With measured sweep the burthen bore,
In such wild cadence, as the breeze
Makes through December's leafless trees.
The chorus first could Allan know,

"Roderich Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"

And near,

and nearer as they row'd,

Distinct the martial ditty flow'd.

XIX.

Boat Song.TM

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honour'd and bless'd 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,

66

While every Highland glen

Sends our shout back agen

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;

When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the

mountain,

The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.

Moor'd in the rifted rock,

Proof to the tempest's shock,

Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;

Menteith and Breadalbane, then,

Echo his praise agen,

"Roderich Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

XX.

Proudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Fruin,
And Banochar'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 agen,

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!
O! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!

O that some seedling gem,

Worthy such noble stem,

Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow!

Loud should Clan-Alpine then

Ring from her deepmost glen,

Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe !"

XXI.

With all her joyful female band,

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.
Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,

And high their snowy arms they threw,

As echoing back with shrill acclaim,

And chorus wild, the chieftain's name;

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, The darling passion of his heart,

The Dame call'd Ellen to the strand,

To greet her kinsman ere he land:

"Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou,

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ?"

Reluctantly and slow, the maid

The unwelcome summoning obey'd,

And, when a distant bugle rung,

In the mid-path aside she sprung:

“List, Allan-bane! From main-land cast,

I hear my father's signal blast.

Be our's," she cried, "the skiff to guide,

And waft him from the mountain's side."Then, like a sun-beam, swift and bright,

She darted to her shallop light,

And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd,

For her dear form, his mother's band,