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Abbey of Scone anapest answered armor arms army Aytoun ballad Ballengiech battle BATTLE OF OTTERBURN brave called castle church clans commanded Compare Comyn crown death Douglas drew Dundee Earl Earl of Surrey Edinburgh Edward enemy England English fell fight Flodden followers foster-brother friends gallant Graeme gude hand hath head heart Heaven Henry Highlanders honor horse John of Lorn killed Killiecrankie King Robert king's Kippen knew Lady land Loch Loch Lomond Lochiel Lochleven looked Lord James Lord Lindesay Lord Ruthven madam Mary Melville miles Montrose never night noble Noroway Notes o'er Otterbourne pass Percy person play prison Pronounced queen Randolph river Rob Roy Robert Bruce Robert Melville Robert the Bruce Roland royal Scotland Scots Scottish Shakespeare side Sir Patrick Spens Sir Walter Scott slain soldiers spear stood sword thee thou town traitors Waverley word ye lie
Page 159 - I have marshalled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. Then, welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock ! Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!
Page 160 - For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?
Page 160 - Yon sight that it freezes my spirit to tell ! Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale— LOCHIEL.
Page 159 - 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. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might,...
Page 1 - Our King has written a braid letter, And seal'd it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand. " To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem ; The King's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis thou maun bring her hame.
Page 2 - O wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o' me, To send us out, at this time of the year, To sail upon the sea? "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis we must fetch her hame.
Page 160 - T is 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...
Page 161 - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.