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And answering Lomond's breezes deep,
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.
The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high,
With wasted hand, and haggard eye,
And strange and mingled feelings woke,
While his anathema he spoke.

“ Woe to the clansman, who shall view
This symbol of sepulchral yew,
Forgetful that its branches grew


the heavens their holiest dew
On Alpine's dwelling low!
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust,
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust,
But, from his sires and kindred thrust,
Each clansman’s execration just ?

Shall doom him wrath and woe.”
He paused ;-the word the vassals took,
With forward step and fiery look,
On high their naked brands they shook,
Their clattering targets wildly strook ;?

And first in murmur low,

[See a detailed description of the funeral ceremonies of a Highland chieftain in the Fair Maid of Perth, Waverley Novels, vol. 43. chaps. x. and xi. New Edit.] 1 [MS.—“Our warriors, on his worthless bust,

Shall speak disgrace and woe."] · [MS.-" Their clattering targets hardly strook :

And first they mutter'd low.")

Then, like the billow in his course,
That far to seaward finds his source,
And Alings to shore his muster'd force,
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,

“Woe to the traitor, woe!"
Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew,
The joyous wolf from covert drew,
The exulting eagle scream'd afar, —
They knew the voice of Alpine's war.


X. The shout was hush'd on lake and fell, The monk resumed his mutter'd spell: Dismal and low its accents came, The while he scathed the Cross with flame; And the few words that reach'd the air, Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer. But when he shook above the crowd Its kindled points, he spoke aloud :

Woe to the wretch who fails to rear
At this dread sign the ready spear!
For, as the flames this symbol sear,
His home, the refuge of his fear,

A kindred fate shall know;
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim,

1 (MS.—"Although the holy name was there.


While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame,

And infamy and woe.” Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill

Of curses stammer'd slow; Answering, with imprecation dread, 66 Sunk be his home in embers red ! And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head,

We doom to want and woe !" A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! And the grey pass where birches wave,

On Beala-nam-bo.

XI. Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his labouring breath he drew, While, with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head, Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobey'd. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, He quench'd among the bubbling blood,

And, as again the sign he rear'd,
Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard :
66 When flits this Cross from man to man,
Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan,
Burst be the ear that fails to heed !
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed !
May ravens tear the careless

eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize! As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, So may

his heart's-blood drench his hearth! As dies in hissing gore the spark, Quench thou his light, Destruction dark ! And be the grace to him denied, Bought by this sign to all beside !" He ceased; no echo gave agen The murmur of the deep Amen.?

Then Roderick, with impatient look,
From Brian's hand the symbol took :

Speed, Malise, speed !" he said, and gave
The crosslet to his henchman brave.
“The muster-place be Lanrick mead
Instant the time-speed, Malise, speed!"
Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue,
A barge across Loch Katrine flew;

? [MS.--"The slowly mutter'd deep Amen.")

(MS.~"Murlagan is the spot decreod.")

High stood the henchman on the prow;
So rapidly the barge-men row,
The bubbles, where they launch'd the boat,
Were all unbroken and afloat,
Dancing in foam and ripple still,
When it had near'd the mainland hill;
And from the silver beach's side
Still was the prow three fathom wide,
When lightly bounded to the land
The messenger of blood and brand."

1 The present brogue of the Highlanders is made of half-dried leather, with holes to admit and let out the water; for walking the moors dry-shod is a matter altogether out of question. The ancient buskin was still ruder, being made of undressed deer's hide, with the hair outwards : a circumstance which procured the Highlanders the well known epithet of Red-shanks. The process is very accurately described by one Elder (himself a Highlander) in the project for a union between England and Scotland, addressed to Henry VIII. “We go a-hunting, and after that we have slain red-deer, we flay off the skin by-and-by, and setting of our bare-foot on the inside thereof, for want of cunning shoemakers, by your grace's pardon, we play the cobblers, compassing and measuring so much thereof as shall reach up to our ankles, pricking the upper part thereof with holes, that the water may repass where it enters, and stretching it up with a strong thong of the same above our said ankles. So, and please your noble grace, we make our shoes. Therefore, we using such manner of shoes, the rough hairy side outwards, in your grace's dominions of England, we be called Roughfooted Scots.” -PINKERTON'S History, vol.ii. p. 397.

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