LOCHIEL.

LOCHIEL'S WARNING.

WIZARD-LOCHIEL.

WIZARD.

LOCHIEL, Lochiel, beware of the day,

When the lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!

For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,

And the clans of Culloden are scatter'd in fight:
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down:

Proud Cumberland prances insulting the slain,

And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.

But mark! through the fast flashing lightning of war, What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?

"Tis the barb of Glenullin, whose bride shall await,

Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate:

A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep Albin! to death and captivity led!

Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead:
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,

Culloden, that reeks with the blood of the brave.

LOCHIEL.

Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!

Or if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright!

The gaelic appellation of Scotland, more particularly the Highlands.

WIZARD.

Ha, laugh'st thou, Lochiël, my vision to scorn?

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!—

Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth,

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-show'r of ruin all fearfully driv'n

From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heav'n.—

Oh chieftain whose tow'r on the mountain shall burn!

Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return!