Page:Watty & Meg, or, The wife reformed (2).pdf/12

 12 THE FATE OF MACGREGOR. MacGregor, Macgregor, remember our foemen ; The moon rises broad from the brow of Benlomond, The clans are impatient, and chide thy delay : Arise ! let us bound to Glen-Lyon away.' Stern scowl'd the Macgregor, then silent and sullen, He turn'd lis red eye to the braes of Strathfillan; Go, Malcolm, to sleep, let the clans be dismissed : The Campbells this night for Macgregor must rest.' “ Macgregor, Macgregor, our scouts have been flying, Three days, round the hills of M'Nab and Glen- Lyon; Of riding and running such tidings they bear, We must meet them at home, else they'll quickly be here."