WHA 'LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE!

HE news frae Moidart cam' yestreen,

THE

Will soon gar mony ferlie,

For ships o' war ha'e just come in,

And landed Royal Charlie!

Come through the heather, around him gather,
Ye 're a' the welcomer early,

Around him cling wi' a' your kin,

For wha 'll be king but Charlie?

Come through the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,

And crown him rightfu', lawfu' king,

For wha 'll be king but Charlie?

The Highland clans wi' sword in hand,
Frae John o' Groats to Airly,

Ha'e to a man declared to stand,

Or fa' wi' Royal Charlie!

Come through the heather, etc.

The Lowlands a', baith great an' sma',
Wi' mony a lord an' laird, ha'e
Declared for Scotia's king an' law,

An' speir ye wha but Charlie ?

Come through the heather, etc.

There's ne'er a lass in a' the land,
But vows baith late an' early,

To man she 'll ne'er gi'e heart or hand,
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.

Come through the heather, etc.

5

Then here's a health to Charlie's cause
An' be 't complete an' early,

His very name our heart's blood warms
To arms for Royal Charlie!

Come through the heather, etc.

MACGREGOR'S GATHERING.

HE moon 's on the lake and the mist 's on the brae,

THE

And the clan has a name that is nameless by day; Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalach!

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, haloo, haloo, Gregalach!

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;

We 're landless, landless, landless, Gregalach!

But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword.
Then courage, courage, courage, Gregalach!

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles.
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gregalach!

While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river, MacGregor, despite them, shall flourish forever!

Come then, come then, come then, Gregalach!

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!
Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalach!

MONTROSE'S LOVE SONG.

My dear and only love, I pray

That little world of thee

Be governed by no other sway
But purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part,

Which virtuous souls abhor,
I'll call a synod in my heart,
And never love thee more.

As Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone;
My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.

He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,

Who dares not put it to the touch,

To gain or lose it all.

But I will reign and govern still,

And always give the law, And have each subject at my will, And all to stand in awe.

But 'gainst my batteries if I find

Thou storm or vex me sore,

As if thou set me as a blind,
I'll never love thee more.

And in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be,

If others do pretend a part,

Or dare to share with me;

Or if committees thou erect,

Or go on such a score,
I'll smiling mock at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if no faithless action stain
Thy love and constant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my sword;
I'll serve thee in such noble ways

As ne'er was known before;

I'll deck and crown thy head with bays.

And love thee evermore.

NOTE. In the fictitious journal of Lady Beatrix Graham, the sister of Montrose, we find the following version of the last verse of the song:

25

gov-erned by no other sway, But purest mon - ar ·

For if con-fu sion have a part Which virtuous souls ab hor, And