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at a fair or public concourse out of his own country, he cried aloud Craigillachy, and every person within hearing, allied by descent or marriage to the clan, flew to his rescue. The motto of the clan is, Stand fast Craigillachy."

No. 2. Shall feed our babes and hoary sires.”—P. 141.

Quenching the fire is a most emphatic phrase in the Highlands, and never heard without a thrill of horror; it signifies not only the removing of cottagers attached to the soil by long possession, but quenching fires to kindle them no more, that is, depopulating districts once inhabited. It is easy to judge how much those who never quenched a fire must be venerated and beloved.

No. 3. And save the mourners from despair.”-P. 141.

The Chief here alluded to is said at one time to have supported at his own expence four hundred women and children, belonging to such individuals in his regiments as were unable to leave any provision for their maintenance.

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Oh, soft and sweet the evening sun

Was gleaming o'er the meadows green, The ploughman's weary task was done,

And peaceful was the scene.

I musing wander'd o'er yon height

“ Where broom bloom'd fair to view ;* Whose yellow blossoms gaily show'd O'er violets darkly blue.

* See note No. I,

A little higher up I spy'd

A roofless castle grey, Where rooks and daws in clam'rous crowds

Retir'd at close of day *.

A fenceless garden's sad remains,

All ruin'd and decay’d, And trees, whose branches scorch'd by fire

Refus'd both fruit and shade.

Two shrubs in vernal pride remain’d,

Fenc'd by their native thorn,
And bore the fragrant milk-white rose

By YORK's proud faction borne.

There, seated by a ruin'd tow'r,

An ancient dame I viewd,
Who with a pensive, tranquil sigh

Survey'd the fragments rude up.

And why, untouch'd by wasting time,

- Did that fair pile give way? - And who are you that lonely mourn

* The stately tower's decay ?

* See note No. 2.

+ See note No. 3.

. And why does still that cherish'd rose

6 'Midst desolation bloom? . And in this lonely waste forlorn,

• Diffuse its soft perfume ?'

" Oh, long must I unpitied mourn,

“ Where mouldering tow'rs decay ; “ Fierce were the flames that scorch'd their walls,

" And fatal was the day.

" And long must tears in silence shed,

Bedew that rose so fair ; “ 'Twas planted in the dawn of hope,

“ For royal brows to wear.

My master was a Chief renown'd
“ In manhood's active prime;
My lady was for ev'ry worth

Unequall'd in her time.

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“ Her father was a wily lord,

Well skill'd in dangerous art, “ (But truth, and love, and goodness fill'd “ His daughter's gentle heart.)

“ With crafty lore he led our Chief

“ A hopeless cause to join ; - To seat on Britain's throne a Prince

“ Of STUART's hapless line.


Do you not see yon blasted oak

By Heaven's dread thunder tore? “ Can April show'r's, or summer suns

" Its solemn shade restore ?

“ Or have you seen the lofty flow'r

" That turns to meet the sun ; “ And did it spread its yellow leaves

“ When his bright course was run ?

They strove to plant the wither'd oak,

" And water'd it with gore : “ They spread the tender leaves of hope

" When fortune smil'd no more.

“ How short, how gay, how bright the smile,

“ That cheer'd their morning ray! " How dark, how cold, how loud the storm,

" That raging clos'd their day.

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