that like giants stand,
      To sentinel enchanted land. 
      High on the south, huge Benvenue
      Down to the lake in masses threw
      Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled,
      The fragments of an earlier world;
      A wildering forest feathered o’er
      His ruined sides and summit hoar. 
      While on the north, through middle air,
      Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.

SCOTT.

* * * * *

LOCHIEL’S WARNING.

          Seer.  Lochiel!  Lochiel! beware of the day
      When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! 
      For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
      And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight;
      They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;
      Wo, wo to the riders that trample them down! 
      Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
      And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. 
      But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
      What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? 
      ’Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,
      Like a love-lighted watchfire, all night at the gate. 
      A steed comes at morning; no rider is there;
      But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. 
      Weep, Albyn, to death and captivity led! 
      O weep, but thy tears cannot number the dead;
      For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,
      Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave.

          Lochiel.  Go preach to the coward, thou death-
      telling seer! 
      Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,
      Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight
      This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

          Seer.  Ha! laugh’st thou, Lochiel, my vision to
      scorn? 
      Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! 
      Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth
      From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north? 
      Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
      Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
      But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! 
      Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh. 
      Why flames the far summit?  Why shoot to the blast
      Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 
      ’Tis the fire shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
      From his eyrie that beacons the darkness of heaven. 
      Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
      Whose banners arise on the battlements’ height,
      Heaven’s fire is around thee, to blast and to burn: 
      Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return! 
      For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,
      And a wild mother scream o’er her famishing brood.