'Tis woman's meed for chieftain's deed,
That bids our eyes to shower.

Beseems his grief the princely chief,
Who reins the charger's pride,
And gives the gale the silken sail,
That flaps the standard's side;
Who from the hall where sheds at call,
The generous shell its tide,
And from the tower where Meiners'[147] power
Prevails, brought home such bride.

[147] She was a daughter of Menzies of that Ilk, in Perthshire. The
founder of the family was a De Moyeners, in the reign of William the
Lion. The name in Gaelic continued to testify to its original, being
_Meini_, or _Meinarach_.

THE DAY OF CULLODEN.

Ah, the wound of my breast! Sinks my heart to the dust,
And the rain-drops of sorrow are watering the ground;
So impassive to hear, never pierces my ear,
Or briskly or slowly, the music of sound.
For, what tidings can charm, while emotion is warm
With the thought of my Prince on his travel unknown;
The royal in blood, by misfortune subdued,
While the base-born[148] by hosts is secured on the throne?
Of the hound is the race that has wrought our disgrace,
Yet the boast of the litter of mongrels is small,
Not the arm of your might makes it boast of our flight,
But the musters that failed at the moment of call--
Five banners were furl'd that might challenge the world,
Of their silk not a pennon was spread to the day;
Where is Cromarty's earl, with the fearless of peril,
Young Barisdale's following, Mackinnon's array?
Where the sons of the glen,[149] the Clan-gregor, in vain
That never were hail'd to the carnage of war--
Where Macvurich,[150] the child of victory styled?
How we sigh'd when we learn'd that his host was afar!
Clan-donuil,[151] my bosom friend, woe that the blossom
That crests your proud standard, for once disappear'd,
Nor marshall'd your march, where your princely deserts
Without stain might the cause of the right have uprear'd!
And now I say woe, for the sad overthrow
Of the clan that is honour'd with Frazer's[152] command,
And the Farquharsons[153] bold on the Mar-braes enroll'd,
So ready to rise, and so trusty to stand.
But redoubled are shed my tears for the dead,
As I think of Clan-chattan,[154] the foremost in fight;
Oh, woe for the time that has shrivell'd their prime,
And w