rength, the stress of arms to weather;
Steel to the core, that evermore to expectation true,
Like gallant deer-hounds from the slip, or like an arrow flew,
Where deathful strife was calling, and sworded files were closed
Was sapping breach the wall in of the ranks that stood opposed,
And thirsty brands were hot for blood, and quivering to be on,
And with the whistle of the blade was sounding many a groan.
O from the sides of Albyn, full thousands would be proud,
The natives of her mountains gray, around the tree to crowd,
Where stream the colours flying, and frown the features grim,
Of your emblem lion with his staunch and crimson[126] limb.
Up, up, be bold, quick be unrolled, the gathering of your levy,[127]
Let every step bound forth a leap, and every hand be heavy;
The furnace of the melee where burn your swords the best,
Eschew not, to the rally where blaze your streamers, haste!
That silken sheet, by death strokes fleet, and strong defenders manned,--
Dismays the flutter of its leaves the chosen of the land.

[119] The clan badge is a tuft of heather.

[120] The Macdonalds claimed the right wing in battle.

[121] A lion rampant is their cognizance; gules.

[122] Their original patronymic, from, we suppose, _Old King Coul_;
Coll, or Colla, is a common name in the tribe.

[123] The "Mire Chatta," or battle-dance, denotes the frenzy, supposed
to animate the combatants, during the period of excitement.

[124] The clan consisted of many septs, whose rights of precedence are
not quite ascertained; as Sleat, Clanronald, Glengarry, Keppoch, and
Glencoe.

[125] _Lit._ Lowland or stranger. Killiecrankie and Sheriff Muir, not to
mention Innerlochy and Tippermuir, must have blended the dying shrieks
of Lowlanders with the triumphant shouts of the Gael. The image is a
fine one.

[126] The armorial emblem was gules.

[127] Prince Charles Edward was expected.

THE BROWN DAIRY-MAIDEN.

Burns was fascinated with the effect of this song in Gaelic; and adopted
the air for his "Banks of the Devon."

My brown dairy, brown dairy,
Brown dairy-maiden;
Brown dairy-maiden,
Bell of the heather!

A fetter beguiling, dairy-maiden, thy smiling;
Thy glove[128] there 's a wile in, of white hand the cover;
When a-milking, thy stave is more sweet than the mavis,
As his melodies ravish the woo