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 And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,

The mustering squadron, and the clattering car

Went pouring forward with impetuous speed.

And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;

And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;

And near, the beat of the alarming drum

Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While throng'd the citizens, with terror dumb,

Or whispering, with white lips—'The fo! They come! they come!'

And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering rose!

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hill

Have heard—and heard too have her Saxon foes:—

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,

Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills

Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers

With the fierce native daring, which instils

The stirring memory of a thousand years;

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,

Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,

Grieving—if aught inanimate e'er grieves—

Over the unreturning brave,—alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure; when this fiery mass