curious specimen of
indignation, suppressed by prudence, and of contempt disguised under the
mask of civility.

Glad tidings for the Highlands!
To arms a ringing call--
Hammers storming, targets forming,
Orb-like as a ball.[139]
Withers dismay the pale array,
That guards the Hanoverian;
Assurance sure the sea 's come o'er,
The help is nigh we weary on.
From friendly east a breeze shall haste
The fruit-freight of our prayer--
With thousands wight in baldrick white,[140]
A prince to do and dare;
Stuart his name, his sire's the same,
For his riffled crown appealing,
Strong his right in, soon shall Britain
Be humbled to the kneeling.
Strength never quell'd, and sword and shield,
And firearms play defiance;
Forwards they fly, and still their cry,
Is,[141] "Give us flesh!" like lions.
Make ready for your travel,
Be sharp-set, and be willing,
There will be a dreadful revel,
And liquor red be spilling.
O, that each chief[142] whose warriors rife,
Are burning for the slaughter,
Would let their volley, like fire to holly,
Blaze on the usurping traitor.
Full many a soldier arming,
Is laggard in his spirit,
E'er his blood the flag is warming
Of the King that should inherit.
He may be loon or coward,
That spur scarce touch would nearly--
The colours shew, he 's in a glow,
Like the stubble of the barley.
Onward, gallants! onward speed ye,
Flower and bulwark of the Gael;
Like your flag-silks be ye ruddy,
Rosy-red, and do not quail.
Fearless, artless, hawk-eyed, courteous,
As your princely strain beseems,
In your hands, alert for conflict,
While the Spanish weapon gleams.--
Sweet the flapping of the bratach,[143]
Humming music to the gale;
Stately steps the youthful gaisgeach,[144]
Proud the banner staff to bear.
A slashing weapon on his thigh,
He tends his charge unfearing;
Nor slow, pursuers venturing nigh,
To the gristle nostrils sheering.
Comes too, the wight, the clean, the tight,
The finger white, the clever, he
That gives the war-pipe his embrace
To raise the storm of bravery.
A brisk and stirring, heart-inspiring
Battle-sounding breeze of her
Would stir the spirit of the clans
To rake the heart of Lucifer.