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From the far smitten earth a sullen sound, Like deep-dell'd forests groaning to the strokes Of lusty wood-men. On the watch-tower's height, His straining eye shall mark our sheathless swords From rank to rank their lengthen'd blaze emit, Like streams of shiv'ring light, in hasty change, Upon the northern firmament.—By stealth! No! not by stealth!—believe me, not by stealth Shalt thou these portals pass.

Them have I enter'd. The pledge of peace: and here my place I'll hold As dame and mistress of the warlike clan Who yield obedience to their chief, my lord; And whatsoe'er their will to me may bear, Of good or ill, so will I hold me ever. Yea, did the Lord of Lorne, dear as he is, With all the warlike Campbells at his back Here hostile entrance threaten; on these walls, Failing the strength that might defend them better, I would myself, while by my side in arms One valiant clan's-man stood, against his powers, To the last push, with desp'rate opposition, This castle hold.