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Speed messengers the country through;
Let Ettrick's archers sharp their darts,
The fairest forms, the truest hearts !
Call all, call all! from Reedswair-path, To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath ; Wide let the news through Scotland ring, The Northern Eagle claps his wing !"
END OF CANTO FIFTH.
LORD OF THE ISLES.
that shared them, ever shall forget, The emotions of the spirit-rousing time, When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime; When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won, When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun, Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun !
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears! The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears, That track’d with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee !
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When ʼgainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale, When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O’er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale; When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St John, When Randolph's war-cry swell’d the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was wong And Fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.