Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together From their lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans, Then our leader rode before us On his war-horse black as night,— Well the Cameronian rebels Knew that charger in the fight!— And a cry of exultation From the bearded warriors rose; For we loved the house of Claver'se, And we thought of good Montrose. But he raised his hand for silence "Soldiers! I have sworn a vow: Ere the evening star shall glisten On Schehallion's lofty brow, Either we shall rest in triumph, Or another of the Græmes Shall have died in battle-harness For his Country and King James! Think upon the Royal Martyr,— Think of what his race endure,Think of him whom butchers murdered On the field of Magus Nuir:By his sacred blood I charge ye, By the ruined hearth and shrine,— By the blighted hopes of Scotland By your injuries and mine,Strike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while, Be they covenanting traitors Or the brood of false Argyle! Strike! and drive the trembling rebels Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention Loudly then the hills re-echoed For the lands of wide Breadalbane, And they harder drew their breath. Down we crouched amid the bracken, Next we saw the squadrons come, Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers Marching to the tuck of drum; Through the scattered wood of birches, O'er the broken ground and heath, Wound the long battalion slowly, Till they gained the plain beneath; Then we bounded from our covert,Judge how looked the Saxons then, When they saw the rugged mountains Start to life with arméd men! Like a tempest down the ridges Swept the hurricane of steel, Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel! Foot to foot, and hand to hand. Horse and man went down like drift-wood In the Garry's deepest pool. Horse and man went down before us,— On the field of Killiecrankie, When that stubborn fight was done! And the evening star was shining As he told us where to seek him, Pealed the joyful note of triumph, And the clansmen's clamorous cheer; So, amidst the battle's thunder, Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, In the glory of his manhood Passed the spirit of the Græme! Open wide the vaults of Atholl, Where the bones of heroes rest,— Open wide the hallowed portals Last of Scots, and last of freemen,- Who would rather die unsullied O thou lion-hearted warrior! Reck not of the after-time; Chieftain than our own Dundee! W. Edmondstoune Aytoun. MILES STANDISH'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE INDIANS. After a three days' march he came to an Indian encamp ment Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and the forest; Women at work by the tents, and the warriors, horrid with war-paint, Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking together; Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of the white men, Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and saber and musket, Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from among them advancing, Came to parley with Standish, and offer him furs as a present; Friendship was in their looks, but in their hearts there was hatred. Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers gigantic in stature, Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of Bashan; One was Pecksuot named, and the other was called Wat tawamat. Round their necks were suspended their knives in scabbards of wampum, Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a needle. Other arms had they none, for they were cunning and crafty. "Welcome, English!" they said, these words they had learned from the traders Touching at times on the coast, to barter and chaffer for peltries. Then in their native tongue they began to parley with Standish, Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok, friend of the white man, Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly for muskets and powder, Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, with the plague, in his cellars, Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red man! But when Standish refused, and said he would give them the Bible, Suddenly changing their tone, they began to boast and to bluster. Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in front of the other, And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly spake to the Captain: "Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the Captain, Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of the brave Wat tawamat Is not afraid of the sight. He was not born of a woman, But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven by lightning, Forth he sprang at a bound, with all his weapons about him, Shouting, 'Who is there here to fight with the brave Wattawamat?'"' Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade on his left hand, Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on the handle, Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister meaning: "I have another at home, with the face of a man on the handle; By and by they shall marry; and there will be plenty of children!" |