IV.

  The old lord in his saddle turned,
    And hastily he said—­
  “Hath bold Dugueselin’s fiery heart
    Awakened from the dead? 
  Thou art the leader of the Scots—­
    Now well and sure I know,
  That gentle blood in dangerous hour
    Ne’er yet ran cold nor slow,
  And I have seen ye in the fight
    Do all that mortal may: 
  If honour is the boon ye seek
    It may be won this day. 
  The prize is in the middle isle,
    There lies the venturous way;
  And armies twain are on the plain,
    The daring deed to see—­
  Now ask thy gallant company
    If they will follow thee!”

  V.

  Right gladsome looked the Captain then,
    And nothing did he say,
  But he turned him to his little band—­
    Oh few, I ween, were they! 
  The relics of the bravest force
    That ever fought in fray. 
  No one of all that company
    But bore a gentle name,
  Not one whose fathers had not stood
    In Scotland’s fields of fame. 
  All they had marched with great Dundee
    To where he fought and fell,
  And in the deadly battle-strife
    Had venged their leader well;
  And they had bent the knee to earth
    When every eye was dim,
  As o’er their hero’s buried corpse
    They sang the funeral hymn;
  And they had trod the Pass once more,
    And stooped on either side
  To pluck the heather from the spot
    Where he had dropped and died;
  And they had bound it next their hearts,
    And ta’en a last farewell
  Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky,
    Where Scotland’s glory fell. 
  Then went they forth to foreign lands
    Like bent and broken men,
  Who leave their dearest hope behind,
    And may not turn again!

  VI.

  “The stream,” he said, “is broad and deep,
    And stubborn is the foe—­
  Yon island-strength is guarded well—­
    Say, brothers, will ye go? 
  From home and kin for many a year
    Our steps have wandered wide,
  And never may our bones be laid
    Our fathers’ graves beside. 
  No sisters have we to lament,
    No wives to wail our fall;
  The traitor’s and the spoiler’s hand
    Have reft our hearths of all. 
  But we have hearts, and we have arms
    As strong to will and dare
  As when our ancient banners flew
    Within the northern air. 
  Come, brothers; let me name a spell
    Shall rouse your souls again,
  And send the old blood bounding free
    Through pulse, and heart, and vein! 
  Call back the days of bygone years—­
    Be young and strong once more;
  Think yonder stream, so stark and red,
    Is one we’ve crossed before. 
  Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! 
    Rise up on either hand—­
  Again upon the Garry’s banks,
    On Scottish soil we stand! 
  Again I see the tartans wave,
    Again the trumpets ring;
  Again I hear our leader’s call—­
    ‘Upon them, for the King!’
  Stayed we behind that glorious day
    For roaring flood or linn? 
  The soul of Graeme is with us still—­
    Now, brothers! will ye in?”