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I weird, I weird, hard-hearted lord,
Thy fa’ shall soon be seen,
The cald frost nipt or een:
Thou leughst in scorn when puir men weep'd,
And strack the lowly down;
When a' their joys are flown.
This night ye drink the sparkly wine;
I redd you drink your fill;
Afore he reach the hill.
I see the snaw-maned horses ride,
Their glitt'ring swords they draw; Their swords that shall nae glitter lang,
Till Kenneth's pride shall fa'.
The black Dog yould; he saw the sight
Nae man but I could see;
High* on fair Marg'ret's breast her sheet,
And deadly fix'd her ee :
Sae spake the seer; wild in his een
His frighted spirit gaz’d:
Like boary bristles rais'd.
Loud, loud in Kenneth's lighted ha',
The sang of joy was heard;
Afore the light appear'd.
my son William
A ghousty-looking page.
I saw them, Master, O! I saw,
Beneath the thorney brae,
Revenge! he cried, and gae.”
* To persons unacquainted with the superstition of the Highlands, this may not be easily intelligible. There the seer is supposed to behold the figure of a person about to die, clothed in their winding-sheet; and the higher it is on their bodies, the nearer their approaching dissolution.
The youth that bare Lord Kenneth's cup,
The saft smile on his cheek, Frae his white hand let fa' the drink, · Nor did the baldest speak.
Sae have I seen the gray-wing'd shaft
That strak the noblest deer; Astounded, gaz'd the trembling herd,
Nor could they flee for fear.
Ride, ride, and bid Lord William come;
His fathers sair beset.”" It was Lord William's horse that neigh’d;
I heard them bar the yate.”
“Welcome, my valiant son," he said ;
Or should I welcome say,
To meet thy father's fae?". “ Curs'd be that thought," bald William said;
“ My father's faes are mine; Lang has my breast frae Kenneth learn'd
Sic baby fear to tine.”
« O William! had we kent yestreen."
“ Father, we ken it now; Let women tell what women wish.”
Syne three shrill blasts he blew.
Fair Margʻret lay on downy bed;
Yet was na sound her rest;
And down she came in haste.
“What mean you, Kenneth, by that blast?
I wish my dreams bode guid; Upon a bed of lilies fair
I thought there rain'd red bluid.
My son! my son! may peace be there
Whar noble William stands”. “ We are the lilies,” answer'd he,
May their bluid weit our hands."
" What means
my William by sic words? Whase bluid would William spill ? I thought that horn had blawn in peace,
That wak'd the night sae still.”
She luik’d; but nane durst answer make,
Till gallant William said,
When we to battail gade.
For him that fought the best ;
Upon the pin to rest.
But William never liv'd to flee;
Nor did his mother hear
That was na found for fear.
And if we fa', my gallant friends,
We shall na fa' alane ; Some honest hand shall write our deeds
Upon the tallest stane."
“ Haste, Kenneth, haste; for in the field
The fire-ey'd Walter rides; His
men, that come sae thrang wi' haste, For slaw delay he chides.”
" By Mary, we will meet him there,”
The angry William cry'd ; Thy son will try this Lion-fae,
And you with Margaret bide."
“ No, on my faith, the sword of youth
Thy father yet can wield;
May babies mock my eild.”
Then forth they rush'd, afore the yate
The warriours sallied out: Lord William smild
their ranks : They answer'd wi' a shout.