Volume I Part 48 (1/2)
Nor stood the Catach[134] to his bratach[135]
For dread of a belabouring, When up gets the Staghead, And raises his cabar on.
Woe to the man of Folais,[136]
When he to fight must challenge thee; Nor better fared the Roses[137]
That lent _Monro_ their valiancy.
The Granndach[138] and the Frazer,[139]
They tarried not the melee in; Fled Forbes,[140] in dismay, sir, Culloden-wards, undallying.
Away they ran, while firm remain, Not one to three, retiring so, The earl,[141] the craven, took to haven, Scarce a pistol firing, O!
Mackay[142] of Spoils, his heart recoils, He cries in haste his cabul[143] on, He flies--as soars the Staghead, And raises his cabar on.
Like feather'd creatures flying, That in the hill-mist s.h.i.+ver, In haste for refuge hieing, To the meadow or the river-- So, port they sought, and took to boat, Bewailing what had happened them, To trust was rash, the missing flash Of the rusty guns that weapon'd them.
The coracle of many a skull, The relics of his neighbour, on, Monro retreats[144]--for Staghead Is raising his cabar on.
I own my expectation,-- 'Tis this has roused my apathy, That He who rules creation May change the dismal hap of thee, And hasten to restore thee In safety from thy danger, To thine own, in joy and glory, To save us from the stranger.
With princely grace to give redress, Nor a taunt to suffer back again; The fell Monro has felt thy blow, And should he dare attack again, Then as he flew, he 'll run anew, The flames to quench he 'll labour on, Of castle fired--when Staghead High raises his cabar on!
I 've seen thee o'er the lowly, A gracious chieftain ever, The Catach[145] self below thee, And the Gallach[145] cower'd for cover; But ever more their striving, When claim'd respect thine eye, Thy scourge corrected, driving To other lands to fly.
Thy loyal crew of clansmen true, No panic fear shall turn them, With steel-cap, blade, and _skene_ array'd, Their banning foes they spurn them.
Clan-s.h.i.+mei[146] then may dare them, They 'll fly, had each a sabre on, Needs but a look--when Staghead Once raises his cabar on.
Mounts not the wing a fouler thing, Than thy vaunted crest, the eagle,[147] O!
Inglorious chief! to boast the thief, That forays with the beagle, O!
For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird![148]
My song shall raise the mountain-deer; The prey he scorns, the carcase spurns, He loves the cress, the fountain cheer.
His lodge is in the forest;-- While carion-flesh enticing Thy greedy maw, thou buriest Thou kite of prey! thy claws in The putrid corse of famish'd horse, The greedy hound a-striving To rival thee in gluttony, Both at the bowels riving.
Thou called the _true bird_![149]--Never, Thou foster child of evil,[150] ha!
How ill match with thy feather[151]
The talons[152] of thy devilry!
But when thy foray preys on Our harmless flocks, so dastardly, How often has the shepherd With trusty baton master'd thee; Well in thy fright hast timed thy flight, Else, not alone, belabouring, He 'd gored thee with the Staghead, Up-raising his cabar on.[153]
Woe worth the world, deceiver-- So false, so fair of seeming!
We 've seen the n.o.ble Siphort[154]
With all his war-notes[155] screaming; When not a chief in Albain, Mac-Ailein's[156] self though backing him, Could face his frown--as Staghead Arose with his cabar on.
To join thy might, when call'd the right, A gallant army springing on, Would rise, from a.s.sint to the crags Of Scalpa, rescue bringing on.
Each man upon, true-flinted gun, Steel glaive, and trusty dagaichean; With the Island Lord of Sleite,[157]
When up rose thy cabar on!
Came too the men of Muideart,[158]
While stream'd their flag its bravery; Their gleaming weapons, blue-dyed,[159]