A book of Highland minstrelsy . d the cold dependence of foreign courts, could not lose with the homesthey had quitted the ardent love which had made those homes so dear tothem. They were haunted in exile by heart-sickness and sorrow, yearn-ing to look once more vipon their mountains and die. It is said that thegentle Lochiel—who, too sagacious not to foresee ruin in the desperateenterprise, reluctantly, and not without the reproaches of his prince, drewthe sword—died in exile of a broken heart. Some even dared to revisitin disguise the scenes where the mention of their names would have drawno
A book of Highland minstrelsy . d the cold dependence of foreign courts, could not lose with the homesthey had quitted the ardent love which had made those homes so dear tothem. They were haunted in exile by heart-sickness and sorrow, yearn-ing to look once more vipon their mountains and die. It is said that thegentle Lochiel—who, too sagacious not to foresee ruin in the desperateenterprise, reluctantly, and not without the reproaches of his prince, drewthe sword—died in exile of a broken heart. Some even dared to revisitin disguise the scenes where the mention of their names would have drawnon them a hundred foes; and it is well known that Dr. Cameron, Lochielsbrother, was taken in an attempt of this kind, and fell a victim to politicaljustice or revenge. Who can forget the touching picture drawn bySmollett of the exiles at Calais, who went every day to the beach to gazeon the white cliffs of their native island, from which they were separatedby a far wider gulf than even the stormy waters that rolled between ?. THE EXILE AT GULLODEN. There was tempest on the waters, there was darkness on the earth,When a single Danish schooner struggled up the Moray Firth,Looming large the Ross-shire mountains frowned unfriendly on its track,Shrieked the wind along their gorges like a sufferer on the rack ;And the utmost deeps were shaken by the stunning thunder-peal —T was a sturdy hand, I trow ye, that M^as needed at the wheel! 4 €l)t atyih at CitUotitn. Though the billows flew about them till the mast was hid in spray,Though the timbers strained beneath them, still they bore upon their way,Till they reached a fisher-village, where the vessel they could moor—Every head was on its pillow when they landed on the shore ;And a man of noble presence bade the crew, Wait here for me,I will come back in the morning when the sun has left the sea. He was yet in manly vigour, though his lips were ashen his brow were early furrows, in his eyes a clouded light;Firm his ste
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