That whistle garrison’d the glen
       At once with full five hundred men,
       As if the yawning hill to heaven
       A subterraneous host had given. 
       Watching their leader’s beck and will,
       All silent there they stood and still. 
       Like the loose crags whose threatening mass
       Lay tottering o’er the hollow pass,
       As if an infant’s touch could urge
       Their headlong passage down the verge,
       With step and weapon forward flung. 
       Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
       The mountaineer cast glance of pride
       Along Benledi’s living side,
       Then fixed his eye and sable brow
       Full on Fitz-James—­“How says’t thou now? 
       These are Clan-Alpine’s warriors true,
       And, Saxon,—­I am Roderick Dhu!”
       Fitz-James was brave:—­Though to his heart
       The life-blood thrilled with sudden start,
       He mann’d himself with dauntless air,
       Returned the Chief his haughty stare,
       His back against a rock he bore,
       And firmly placed his foot before:—­
       “Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
       From its firm base as soon as I.” 
       Sir Roderick marked—­and in his eyes
       Respect was mingled with surprise,
       And the stern joy which warriors feel
       In foemen worthy of their steel. 
       Short space he stood—­then waved his hand;
       Down sunk the disappearing band: 
       Each warrior vanished where he stood,
       In broom or bracken, heath or wood: 
       Sunk brand and spear, and bended bow,
       In osiers pale and copses low;
       It seemed as if their mother Earth
       Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 
       The wind’s last breath had tossed in air
       Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,—­
       The next but swept a lone hill-side,
       Where heath and fern were waving wide;
       The sun’s last glance was glinted back,
       From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,—­
       The next, all unreflected, shone
       On bracken green and cold grey stone. 
       Fitz-James looked round—­yet scarce believed
       The witness that his sight received;
       Such apparition well might seem
       Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
       Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,
       And to his look the Chief replied,
       “Fear nought—­nay, that I need not say—­
       But—­doubt not aught from mine array. 
       Thou art my guest:—­I pledged my word
       As far as Coilantogle ford: 
       Nor would I call a clansman’s brand,
       For aid against one valiant hand,
       Though on our strife lay every vale
       Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
       So move we on;—­I only meant
       To show the reed on which you leant,
       Deeming this path you might pursue
       Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.”