They wan the day wi' Wallace wight; They were the lords o' the south countrie; Cheer up your hearts, brave cavaliers, Till the gallant Grahams come o'er the sea. At the Gouk head, where their camp was set, They rade the white horse and the gray, A' glancing in their plated armor, As the gowd shines in a summer's day. But woe to Hacket, and Strachan baith, And ever an ill death may they die, For they betrayed the gallant Grahams, That aye were true to majesty. Now fare ye weel, sweet Ennerdale, Baith kith and kin that I could name; Oh, I would sell my silken snood To see the gallant Grahams come hame. ANONYMOUS. Kenmure's On and Awa. Он, Kenmure's on and awa, Willie! And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord Success to Kenmure's band, Willie! Success to Kenmure's band; There's no a heart that fears a whig That rides by Kenmure's hand. Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie ! There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, Nor yet o' Gordon's line. Oh, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie ! Oh, Kenmure's lads are men; Their hearts and swords are metal true And that their faes shall ken. They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie ! They'll live or die wi' fame; But soon, wi' sounding victorie, May Kenmure's lord come hame. Here's him that's far awa, Willie ! Here's him that's far awa; And here's the flower that I love bestThe rose that's like the snaw. ROBERT BURNS. Here's a Health to Them that's Awa. HERE'S a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause, May never guid luck be their fa'! It's guid to be merry and wise, It's guid to be honest and true, It's guid to support Caledonia's cause, And bide by the buff and the blue. Here's a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan, Altho' that his band be sma'. May Liberty meet wi' success! May Prudence protect her fra evil! May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist, And wander their way to the devil! Here's a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie, That lives at the lug o' the law! Here's freedom to him that wad read, Here's freedom to him that wad write! Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led — There's nane ever feared that the truth should be For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, heard But they wham the truth wad indite. Here's a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; Culloden that reeks with the blood of the brave. LOCHIEL. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! Here's Maitland and Wycombe, and wha does na Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight like 'em We'll build in a hole o' the wa'. Here's timmer that's red at the heart, Here's fruit that's sound at the core! May he that would turn the buff and blue coat Be turned to the back o' the door. Here's a health to them that's awa, And here's to them that's awa; Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd, Though bred amang mountains o' snaw! Here's friends on baith sides o' the Forth, And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed; And wha would betray old Albion's rights, May they never eat of her bread! ROBERT BURNS. Lochiel's Warning. WIZARD. LOCHIEL. WIZARD. LOCHIEL, Lochiel! beware of the day Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! war What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? A steed comes at morning: no rider is there; This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. WIZARD. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth From his home in the dark rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? "Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. O crested Lochiel! the peerless in might, BORDER BALLAD. When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud, All plaided and plumed in their tartan array WIZARD. Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day; For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal; "Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king. Lo! anointed by heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold, where he flies on his desolate path! 379 Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, THOMAS CAMPBELL. Border Ballad. MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale! Why the de'il dinna ye march forward in order? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale! All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border! Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my Many a crest that is famous in story!— sight: Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight! 'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors; Culloden is lost, and my country deplores. But where is the iron-bound prisoner? where? lorn, Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn? Ah no! for a darker departure is near; The war-drum is muffled and black is the bier; With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale LOCHIEL. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale! For never shall Albin a destiny meet So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Mount and make ready, then, Fight for the queen and our old Scottish glory! Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing; Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing; Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding; War-steeds are bounding; Stand to your arms, and march in good order, England shall many a day Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Pibroch of Wonuil Whu. PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Hark to the summons! Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy. "Dark night came on; the tempest howled A while he hovered on the wing, But weel I mind the farewell strain, WILLIAM GLEN. Wae's Me for Prince Charlie. A WEE bird came to our ha' door; Was "Wae's me for Prince Charlie!" Oh! when I heard the bonny, bonny bird, The tears came drapping rarely; I took my bonnet aff my head, For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. Quoth I: "My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird, Or is 't some words ye've learned by rote, Hame, Hame, Hame! HAME, hame, hame! oh hame I fain would be! The lark shall sing me hame to my ain countrie. The green leaf o' loyaltie's beginning now to fa'; |