Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . ) thunder peal on peal afar;And near, the beat of the alarming drumRoused up the soldier ere the morning star ;While thronged the citizens with terror whispering, with white lips — The foe! they come! they come! XXVI. And wild and high the Camerons gathering rose !The war-note of Lochiel, which Albvns hills CANTO III. PILGRIMAGE. 123 Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : —How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fillsTheir mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineersWith the fierce native d
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . ) thunder peal on peal afar;And near, the beat of the alarming drumRoused up the soldier ere the morning star ;While thronged the citizens with terror whispering, with white lips — The foe! they come! they come! XXVI. And wild and high the Camerons gathering rose !The war-note of Lochiel, which Albvns hills CANTO III. PILGRIMAGE. 123 Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : —How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fillsTheir mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineersWith the fierce native daring which instilsThe stirring memory of a thousand years,And Evans, Donalds fame rings in each clansmans ears !. XXVII. And Ardennes waves above them lier green with natures tear-drops, as they pass,Grieving, if auglit inanimate eer grieves,Over the uiir-;turning brave,—: alas! 124 CHILDE HAROLDS canto hi. Ere evening to be trodden like tlic grassWhich now beneath them, but above shall growIn its next verdure, when this fiery massOf living valor, rolling on the foeAnd burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. noon beheld them full of lusty eve in Beautys circle proudly midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,The morn the marshalling in arms, — the dayBattles magnificently stern array!The thunder-clouds close oer it, which when rentThe earth is covered thick with other clay,Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent! XXIX. Their praise is hymned by loftier harps than mine;Yet one I would select from that ])roud because they blend me with his line,And partly
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