ES EDWARD AT ROME

1785

1

O sunset, of the rise
Unworthy!--that, so brave, so clear, so gay;
This, prison'd in low-hanging earth-mists gray,
And ever-darken'd skies:--
Sad sunset of a royal race in gloom,
Accomplishing to the end the dolorous Stuart doom!

2

Ghost of a king, he sate
In Rome, the city of ghosts and thrones outworn,
Drowsing his thoughts in wine;--a life forlorn;
Pageant of faded state;
Aged before old age, and all that Past,
Like a forgotten thing of shame, behind him cast.

3

Yet if by chance the cry
Of the sharp pibroch through the palace thrill'd,
He felt the pang of high hope unfulfill'd:--
And once, when one came by
With the dear name of Scotland on his lips,
The heart broke forth behind that forty-years' eclipse,

4

Triumphant in its pain:--
Then the old days of Holyrood halls return'd
The leaden lethargy from his soul he spurn'd,
And was the Prince again:--
All Scotland waking in him; all her bold
Chieftains and clans:--and all their tale, and his, he told:

5

--Told how, o'er the boisterous seas
From faithless France he danced his way
Where Alban's thousand islands lay,
The kelp-strown ridge of the lone Hebrides:--
How down each strath they stream'd as springtide rills,
When he to Finnan vale
Came from Glenaladale,
And that snow-handful grew an avalanche of the hills.

6

There Lochiel, Glengarry there,
Macdonald, Cameron: souls untried
In war, but stout in mountain-pride
All odds against all worlds to laugh and dare:
Unpurchaseable faith of chief and clan!
Enough! Their Prince has thrown
Himself upon his own!
By hearts not heads they count, and manhood measures man!

7

--Torrent from Lochaber sprung,
Through Badenoch bare and Athole turn'd,
The fettering Forth o'erpast and spurn'd,
Then on the smiling South in fury flung;
Now gather head with all thine affluent force,
Draw forth the wild mellay!
At Gladsmuir is the fray;
Scotland 'gainst England match'd: White Rose against White Horse!

8

Cluster'd down the slope they go,
Red clumps of ragged valour, down,
While morn-mists yet the hill-top crown:--
Clan Colla! on!--the Camerons touch the foe!
One touch!--the battle breaks, the fight is f