They were foremost in the battle, nor in the chase behind.
Their arms of fire wreak'd out their ire, their shields emboss'd with gold,
And the thrusting of their venom'd points upon the foemen told;
O deep and large was every gash that mark'd their manly vigour,
And irresistible the flash that lighten'd round their trigger;
And woe, when play'd the dark blue blade, the thick back'd sharp Ferrara,
Though plied its might by stripling hand, it cut into the marrow.
Clan Colla,[122] let them have their due, thy true and gallant following,
Strength, kindness, grace, and clannishness, their lofty spirit hallowing.
Hot is their ire as flames aspire, the whirling March winds fanning them,
Yet search their hearts, no blemish'd parts are found
all eyes though scanning them.
They rush elate to stern debate, the battle call has never
Found tardy cheer or craven fear, or grudge the prey to sever.
Ah, fell their wrath! The dance[123] of death sends legs and arms a flying,
And thick the life blood's reek ascends of the downfallen and the dying.
Clandonuil, still my darling theme, is the prime of every clan,
How oft the heady war in, has it chased where thousands ran.
O ready, bold, and venom full, these native warriors brave,
Like adders coiling on the hill, they dart with stinging glaive;
Nor wants their course the speed, the force,
--nor wants their gallant stature,
This of the rock, that of the flock that skim along the water,
Like whistle shriek the blows they strike, as the torrent of the fell,
So fierce they gush--the moor flames' rush their ardour symbols well.
Clandonuil's[124] root when crown each shoot of sapling, branch, and stem,
What forest fair shall e'er compare in stately pride with them?
Their gathering might, what legion wight, in rivalry has dared;
Or to ravish from their Lion's face a bristle of his beard?
What limbs were wrench'd, what furrows drench'd,
in that cloud burst of steel,
That atoned the provocation, and smoked from head to heel,
While cry and shriek of terror break the field of strife along,
And stranger[125] notes are wailing the slaughter'd heaps among!
Where from the kingdom's breadth and length might other muster gather,
So flush in spirit, firm in st