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and dangerous expedition. The minstrel was im- the head of an army superior to his own. The pressed with a belief, which the event verified, words of the set theme, or melody, to which the that he was to be slain in the approaching feud; pipe variations are applied, run thus in Gaelic : and hence the Gaelic words, “ Cha till mi tuille ; Piobaireachd Dhonuil, piobaireachd Dhonuil; ged thillis Macleod, cha till Macrimmon," " I shall Piobaireachd Dhonuil Duidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; never return ; although Macleod returns, yet Mack Piobaireachd Dhonuil Duidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; rimmon shall never return !” The piece is but too

Piob agus bralach air faiche Inverlochi. well known, from its being the strain with which | The pipe summons of Donald the Black, the emigrants from the west highlands and isles | The pipe summons of Donald the Black, usually take leave of their native shore.

The war-pipe and the pennon are on the gathering-place

at Inverlochy.

MACLEOD's wizard flag from the gray castle sallies,

The rowers are seated, unmoor'd are the galley's ; Gleam war-axe and broadsword, clang target and

quiver, As Mackrimmon sings, “ Farewell to Dunvegan

for ever! Farewell to each cliff on which breakers are foam

ing; Farewell, each dark glen, in which red deer are

roaming ; Farewell, lonely Syke, to lake, mountain, and river, Macleod may return, but Mackrimmon shall never !

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,

Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,

Summon Clan-Conuil.
Come away, come away,

Hark to the summons !
Come in your war array,

Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky,
The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy:
Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and

Strong hand that bears one.

“ Farewell the bright clouds that on Quillan are

sleeping; Farewell the bright eyes in the Dun that are

weeping ; To each minstrel delusion, farewell !-and for

ever! Mackrimmon departs to return to you never ! The banshee's wild voice sings the death-dirge be

fore me, The pall of the dead for a mantle hangs o’er me : But my heart shall not fag, and my nerves shall

not shiver, Though devoted I go-to return again never ! « Too oft shall the notes of Mackrimmon's bewail

ing Be heard when the Gael on their exile are sailing; Dear land ! to the shores, whence unwilling we

sever,
Return-return-return-shall we never !

Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille !
Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille,
Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille,
Ged thillis Macleod, cha till Macrimmon!”

Leave untended the herd,

The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterr'd,

The bride at the altar ;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,

Leave nets and barges;
Come with your fighting gear,

Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come when

Forests are rended ;
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.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set !
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Knell for the opset!

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THE DANCE OF DEATH.

This is a very ancient pibroch belonging to the clan Mac-Donald, and supposed to refer to the expedition of Donald Balloch, who, in 1431, launched from the isles with a considerable force, invaded Lochabar, and at Inverlochy defeated and put to fight the Earls of Marr and Caithness, though at

Night and morning were at meeting

Over Waterloo ;
Cocks had sung their earliest greeting,

Faint and low they crew,
For no paly beam yet shone
On the heights of Mount Saint John ;

"The pibroch of Donald the Black."

And still their ghastly roundelay Was of the coming battle-fray,

And of the destined dead.

SONG.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Tempest clouds prolong’d the sway
Of timeless darkness over day ;
Whirlwind, thunderclap, and shower,
Mark'd it a predestined hour.
Broad and frequent through the night
Flash'd the sheets of levin light;
Muskets, glancing lightnings back,
Show'd the dreary bivouack

Where the soldier lay,
Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain,
Wishing dawn of morn again,
Though death should come with day.
'Tis at such a tide and hour,
Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,
And ghastly forms through mist and shower,

Gleam on the gifted ken;
And then th'affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear,
Presaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men.
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
'Twas then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who for many a day,

Had follow'd stout and stern,
Where through battle's rout and reel,
Storm of shout and hedge of steel,
Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassieferu.
Through steel and shot he leads no more-
Low laid mid friends and foemen's gore-
But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Supart rough, and high Ardgower,

And Morven long shall tell,
And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra

Of conquest as he fell.

Our airy feet,
So light and fleet,

They do not bend the rye,
That sinks its head when whirlwinds rave,
And swells again in eddying wave,

As each wild gust blows by;
But still the corn,
At dawn of morn,

Our fatal steps that bore,
At eve lies waste,
A trampled paste

Of blackening mud and gore.
Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Wheel the wild dance,
Brave sons of France !

For you our ring makes room ;
Make space full wide
For martial pride,

For banner, spear, and plume.
Approach, draw near,
Proud cuirassier!

Room for the men of steel!
Through crest and plate
The broadsword's weight,

Both head and heart shall feel.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Lone on the outskirts of the host,
The weary sentinel held post,
And heard, through darkness, far aloof,
The frequent clang of courser's hoof,
Where held the cloak'd patrol their course,
And spurr'd 'gainst storm the swerving horse ;
But there are sounds in Allan's ear
Patrol nor sentinel may hear;
And sights before his eyes aghast
Invisible to them have pass'd,

When down the destined plain
'Twixt Britain and the bands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteors glance,
Strange phantoms wheel'd a revel dance,

And doom'd the future slain.-
Such forms were seen, such sounds were

heard,
When Scotland's James his march prepared

For Flodden's fatal plain ;
Such, when he drew his ruthless sword,
As choosers of the slain, adored

The yet unchristend Dane.
An indistinct and phantom band,
They wheel'd their ring-dance hand in hand,

With gesture wild and dread;
The seer, who watch'd them ride the storm,
Saw through their faint and shadowy form

The lightnings flash more red;

Sons of the spear!
You feel us near,

In many a ghastly dream;
With fancy's eye
Our forms you spy,

And hear our fatal scream.
With clearer sight
Ere falls t!

Just when to weal or wo
Your disembodied souls take flight
On trembling wing-each startled sprite

Our choir of death shall know.

Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,

And call the brave
To bloody grave,
To sleep without a shroud.

HELLVELLYN.
Burst, ye clouds, in tempest showers,
Redder rain shall soon be ours-
See, the east grows wan-

In the spring of 1805, a young gentleman of Yield we place to sterner game,

talents, and of a most amiable disposition, perished Ere deadlier bolts and drearer flame

by losing his way on the mountain Hellvellyn. Shall the welkin's thunders shame;

His remains were not discovered till three months Elemental rage is tame

afterwards, when they were found guarded by a To the wrath of man.

faithful terrier bitch, his constant attendant during

frequent solitary rambles through the wilds of CumAt morn, gray Allan's mates with awe

berland and Westmoreland. Heard of the vision'd sights he saw,

The legend heard him say:
But the seer's gifted eye was dim,
Deafen'd his car, and stark his limb,

I CLIMB'D the dark brow of the mighty Hellvellyn, Ere closed that bloody day.

Lakes and mountains beneath me gleam'd misty He sleeps far from his highland beath

and wide; But often of the Dance of Death

All was still, save by fits when the eagle was yellHis comrades tell the tale

ing, On piquet-post, when ebbs the night,

And starting around me the echoes replied. And waning watch-fires grow less bright,

On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was And dawn is glimmering pale.

bending,
And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,
One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending,
When I mark'd the sad spot where the wanderer

had died.
FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.

Dark green was the spot 'mid the brown mountain ENCHANTRESS, farewell, who so oft has decoy'd me,

heather, At the close of the evening, through woodlands to

Where the pilgrim of nature lay stretch'd in roam,

decay, Where the forester, lated, with wonder espied me

Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather, Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home. | Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild,

clay. speaking

Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, The language alternate of rapture and wo:

For, faithful in death, his mute favourite attended, O! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are | The much-loved remains of her master defended, breaking,

And chased the hill fox and the raven away. The pang that I feel at our parting can know.

| How long didst thou think that his silence was Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came slumber? sorrow,

When the wind waved his garment, how oft Or fale disappointment, to darken my way,

didst thou start? What voice was like thine, that could sing of to- How many long days and long weeks didst thou morrow,

number, Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day!! Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? But when friends drop around us in life's weary And, 0! was it meet that, no requiem read o'er waning,

him, The grief, queen of numbers, thou canst not as- No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, suage ;

And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before Nor the gradual estrangement of those yet remain

him, ing,

Unhonour'd the pilgrim from life should depart? The languor of pain, and the chillness of age.

When a prince to the fate of the peasant has "Twas thou that once taught me, in accents bewail

yielded, ing,

| The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted To sing how a warrior lay stretch'd on the plain, hali; And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unavailing, with 'scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded,

And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain ; And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: As vain those enchantments, o queen of wild Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches numbers,

are glcaming; To a bard when the reign of his fancy is o'er, In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beamAnd the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers. ing; Farewell then ! Enchantress! I meet thee no Far adown the lone aisle sacred music is streaming, more.

1 Lamenting a chief of the people should fall.

But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, | Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through To lay down thy head like the meek mountain channel, lamb:

Hardships and danger despising for fame, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in Furnishing story for glory's bright annal, stature,

Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame! And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more stately thy couch by this desert lake | Enough, now thy story in annals of glory, lying,

Has bumbled the pride of France, Holland, and Thy obsequies sung by the gray plover fying,

Spain ;
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou
In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam.

leave me,
I never will part with my Willie again,

WANDERING WILLIE.

HUNTING SONG.

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,
All joy was bereft me the day that you left me,

On the mountain dawns the day,
And climbid the tall vessel to sail yon wide sea;
O weary betide it! I wander'd beside it,

All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear; And bann'd it for parting my Willie and me.

Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd thy fortune, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,
Oft fought the squadrons of France and of Spain ;

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,
Ae kiss of welcome's worth twenty at parting,

“ Waken, lords and ladies gay.” Now I hae gotten my Willie again.

Waken, lords and ladies gay, . When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were

The mist has left the mountain gray, wailing,

Springlets in the dawn are streaming, I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my e'e,

Diamonds on the brake are gleaming ; And thought o' the bark where my Willie was

And foresters have busy been, sailing,

To track the buck in thicket green; And wish'd that the tempest could a' blaw on me.

Now we come to chant our lay,

“ Waken, lords and ladies gay.” Now that thy gallant ship rides at her mooring,

Waken, lords and ladies gay, Now that my wanderer's in safety at hame,

To the greenwood haste away Music to me were the wildest winds' roaring,

We can show you where he lies, That e'er o’er Inch-Keith drove the dark ocean

Fleet of foot, and tall of size ; faem.

We can show the marks he made, When the lights they did blaze, and the guns they

When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; did rattle,

You shall see him brought to bay,

“ Waken, lords and ladies gay.” And blithe was each heart for the great victory, In secret I wept for the dangers of battle,

Louder, louder chant the lay, And thy glory itself was scarce comfort to me.

Waken, lords and ladies gay!

Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, But now shalt thou tell, while I eagerly listen,

Run a course as well as we: Of each bold adventure, and every brave scar,

Time, stern huntsman! who can balk, And, trust me, I'll smile though my e'en they may

Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk: glisten;

Think of this, and rise with day, For sweet after danger's the tale of the war.

Gentle lords and ladies gay. And O! how we doubt when there's distance 'tween

lovers, When there's naething to speak to the heart thro'

the e'e; How often the kindest and warmest prove rovers,

THE BARD'S INCANTATION. And the love of the faithfullest ebbs like the sea.

WRITTEN UNDER THE THREAT OF INVASION, IN THE Till, at times, could I help it? I pined and I pon

AUTUMN OF 1804. der'd, If love could change notes like the bird on the The forest of Glenmore is drear, tree,

It is all of black pine and the dark oak tree; Now I'll ne'er ask if thine eyes may hae wander'd, And the midnight wind to the mountain deer

Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me. 1 Is whistling the forest lullaby:

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“By all their swords, by all their scars,

By all their names, a mighty spell! By all their wounds, by all their wars,

Arise, the mighty strain to tell ! Fiercer than fierce Hengist's strain, More impious than the heathen Dane, More grasping than all-grasping Rome, Gaul's ravening legions hither come !"The wind is hush'd, and still the lake

Strange murmurs fill my tingling ears, Bristles my hair, my sinews quake,

At the dread voice of other years

And then they bound the holy knot

Before Saint Mary's shrine,
That makes a paradise on earth,

If hearts and hands combine :
And every lord and lady bright

That were in chapel there, Cried, “ Honour'd be the bravest knight,

Beloved the fairest fair !"

The forest of Glenmore is haunted by a spirit called Lhamdearg, or Red-hand.

+ Where the Norwegian invader of Scotland received two bloody defeats.

The Galgacus of Tacitus.

THE TROUBADOUR. GLOWING with love, on fire for fame,

A Troubadour that hated sorrow, Beneath his lady's window came,

And thus he sung his last good morrow :

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