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[320] Now he hears the pipes lamenting,
     Harpers for his mother mourn,
Slow, with sable plume and pennon,
     To her cairn of burial borne.

Then anon his dreams are darker,
     Sounds of battle fill his ears,
And the pibroch's mournful wailing
     For his father's fall he hears.

Wild Lochaber's mountain echoes
     Wail in concert for the dead,
And Loch Awe's deep waters murmur
     For the Campbell's glory fled!

Fierce and strong the godless tyrants
     Trample the apostate land,
While her poor and faithful remnant
     Wait for the Avenger's hand.

Once again at Inverary,
     Years of weary exile o'er,
Armed to lead his scattered clansmen,
     Stands the bold MacCallum More.

Once again to battle calling
     Sound the war-pipes through the glen;
And the court-yard of Dunstaffnage
     Rings with tread of armed men.

All is lost! The godless triumph,
     And the faithful ones and true
From the scaffold and the prison
     Covenant with God anew.

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Harpers (1)
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