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But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning cf
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
But soon the sun broke through the heath
"Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has often led, Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victory!
"Now's the day, and now 's the hour;
"Wha will be a traitor knave?
Traitor coward! turn and flee!
"Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Caledonia! on wi' me!
"By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be-shall be free!
"Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty 's in every blow!
Forward let us do, or die!"
LOCHIEL, Lochiel! beware of the day
Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!
Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
O crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan,
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. | All plaided and plumed in their tartan array
– Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day ;
That knits me to thy rugged strand ?
and what hath been,
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores,
Air, “THAIN' A GRIGALACH."
[These verses are adapted to a very wild, yet lively, gathering Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and tune, used by the Macyregors. The severe treatment of this clan, torn ?
their outlawry, and the proscription of their very name, are alluded
to in the ballad.) Ah no! for a darker departure is near; The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; The moon's on the lake, and the mist 's on the His death-bell is tolling : O mercy, dispel
brae, Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! And the clan has a name that is nameless by day ; Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach ! And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. Gather, gather, gather, etc. Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew, beat,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo ! With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale
Then haloo, Grigalach ! haloo, Grigalach !
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, etc. LOCHIEL. - Down, soothless insulter ! I trust not the tale ; Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchurn and For never shall Albin a destiny meet,
her towers, So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat.
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours : Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach !
Landless, landless, landless, etc.
But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Macgregor has still both his heart and his sword ! Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach ! With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!
Courage, courage, courage, etc. And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to
If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, fame. THOMAS CAMPBELL.
the eagles ! Then vengeance,
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, etc.
O CALEDONIA ! stern and wild,
While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on
the river, Macgregor, despite them, shall flourish forever!
Come then, Grigalach ! come then, Griga
lach ! Come then, come then, come then, etc.
Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed | How, in the name of soldiership and sense, shall career,
Should England prosper, when such things, as
Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach ! Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,
And love when they should fight, — when such as
Of her magnificent and awful cause !
Time was when it was praise and boast enough
In every clime, and travel where we might, I TRAVELLED among unknown men
That we were born her children. Praise enob In lands beyond the sea ;
To fill the ambition of a private man, Nor, England ! did I know till then
That Chatham's language was his mother tolle, What love I bore to thee.
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own.
WILLIAM CUMPER 'T is past, that melancholy dream !
Nor will I quit thy shore
When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Among thy mountains did I feel
Arose from out the azure main, The joy of my desire ;
This was the charter of the land, And she I cherished turned her wheel
And guardian angels sing the strain : Beside an English fire.
Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never will be slaves.
The nations not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turn, to tyrants fall ;
Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free,
Rule Britannia ! etc.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke ;
As the loud blasts that tear thy skies
Serve but to root thy native oak.
Rule Britannia ! etc.
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
Rule Britannia ! etc.
To thee belongs the rural reign ;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine ; Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers.
All thine shall be the subject main, To shake thy senate, and from height sublime
And every shore encircle thine.
Rule Britannia! etc.
The Muses, still with Freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair ; As any thunderer there. And I can feel
Blest Isle ! with matchless beauty crowned, Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain
And manly hearts to guard the fair. Frown at effeminates whose very looks
Rule Britannia ! etc. Reflect dishonor on the land I love.
| Julius Cæsar, the Roman, who yielded to no
man, THERE's a land that bears a world-known name, Came by water, — he couldn't come by land ; Though it is but a little spot ;
And Dane, Pict, and Saxon, their homes turned I say 't is first on the scroll of fame,
their backs on, And who shall aver it is not?
And all for the sake of our island. Of the deathless ones who shine and live
O, what a snug little island ! In arms, in arts, or song,
They 'd all have a touch at the island ! The brightest the whole wide world can give
Some were shot dead, some of them fled, To that little land belong.
And some stayed to live on the island. 'T is the star of earth, deny it who can, The island home of an Englishman.
Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Nor
man, There 's a flag that waves o'er every sea,
Cried, “Drat it, I never liked my land. No matter when or where ;
It would be much more handy to leave this And to treat that flag as aught but the free
Normandy, Is more than the strongest dare.
And live on your beautiful island." For the lion spirits that tread the deck
Says he, “'T is a snug little island ; Have carried the palm of the brave;
Sha' n't us go visit the island ?” And that flag may sink with a shot-torn wreck, Hop, skip, and jump, there he was plump, But never float over a slave.
And he kicked up a dust in the island. Its honor is stainless, deny it who can, And this is the flag of an Englishman.
But party deceit helped the Normans to beat ;
Of traitors they managed to buy land ; There 's a heart that leaps with burning glow By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne'er had been The wronged and the weak to defend ;
licked, And strikes as soon for a trampled foe
Had they stuck to the king of their island. As it does for a soul-bound friend.
Poor Harold, the king of our island ! It nurtures a deep and honest love,
He lost both his life and his island. The passions of faith and pride,
That's all very true: what more could ho And yearns with the fondness of a dove
do? For the light of its own fireside.
Like a Briton he died for his island ! 'T is a rich rough gem, deny it who can, And this is the heart of an Englishman. The Spanish armada set out to invade a,
'T will sure, if they ever come nigh land. The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone, They could n't do less than tuck up Queen Bess, And boldly claim his right;
And take their full swing on the island. For he calls such a vast domain his own
O the poor queen of the island ! That the sun never sets on his might.
The Dons came to plunder the island ; Let the haughty stranger seek to know
But snug in her hive the queen was alive, The place of his home and birth,
And “buzz” was the word of the island. And a flush will pour from cheek to brow While he tells his native earth.
These proud puffed-up cakes thought to make For a glorious charter, deny it who can,
ducks and drakes Is breathed in the words “I'm an Englishman." Of our wealth ; but they hardly could spy land,
When our Drake had the luck to make their
And stoop to the lads of the island ! THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND.
The good wooden walls of the island ;
Devil or Don, let them come on; DADDY NEPTUNE, one day, to Freedom did say,
And see how they 'd come off the island ! If ever I lived upon dry land, The spot I should hit on would be little Britain ! Since Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept Says Freedom, “Why, that's my own island !"
In each saying, “This shall be my land" ;
We'd show 'em some play for the island.
We'd fight for our right to the island ;
The Genius of our clime We'd give them enough of the island ;
From his pine-embattled steep
While the Tritons of the deep
Then let the world combine, THE LAND, BOYS, WE LIVE IN.
O'er the main our naval line
Like the Milky Way shall shine
Bright in fame!
Though ages long have past
Since our Fathers left their home, 'T is clear they consider we've something worth
Their pilot in the blast,
O'er untravelled seas to roam,
And shall we not proclaim
That blood of honest fame beat 'em, We must try how they 'll take it once more :
Which no tyranny can tame
By its chains ?
While the language free and bold
Which the Bard of Avon sung, So fill, fill your glasses, be this the toast given,
In which our Milton told Here's England forever, huzza !
How the vault of heaven rung Here 's a health to our tars on the wide ocean When Satan, blasted, fell with his host ;
While this, with reverence meet, ranging,
Ten thousand echoes greet, Perhaps even now some broadsides are exchanging,
From rock to rock repeat We'll on shipboard and join in the fight;
Round our coast ; And when with the foe we are firmly engaging,
While the manners, while the arts, Till the fire of our guns lulls the sea in its raging,
That mould a nation's soul, On our country we 'll think with delight.
Still cling around our hearts, – So fill, fill your glasses, etc.
Between let Ocean roll, On that throne where once Alfred in glory was Our joint communion breaking with the Sun :
Yet still from either beach seated,
The voice of blood shall reach, Long, long may our king by his people be greeted; 0, to guard him we 'll be of one mind !
More audible than speech,
“We are One." May religion, law, order, be strictly defended, And continue the blessings they first were in
Yet lovely in thy youthful grace !
The elder dames, thy haughty peers,
Admire and hate thy blooming years ;
With words of shame
And taunts of scorn they join thy name.
For on thy cheeks the glow is spread
That tints thy morning hills with red;
Thy step, — the wild deer's rustling feet
Within thy wools are not more fleet;
Tly hopeful eye
Is bright as thine own sunny sky.