Right gladsome look’d the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
  But he turn’d him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they! 
  The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray. 
  No one of all that company but bore a gentle name, 35
  Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland’s fields of fame. 
  All they had march’d with great Dundee[4] to where he fought and fell,
  And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well;

  And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
  As o’er their hero’s buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn; 40
  And they had trod the Pass[5] once more, and stoop’d on either side. 
  To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp’d and died,
  And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta’en a last farewell
  Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland’s glory fell. 
  Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men, 45
  Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.

  “The stream,” he said, “is broad and deep, and stubborn is the foe,—­
  Yon island-strength is guarded well,—­say, brothers, will ye go? 
  From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander’d wide,
  And never may our bones be laid our fathers’ graves beside. 50
  No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
  The traitor’s and the spoiler’s hand have reft our hearths of all. 
  But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
  As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air. 
  Come, brothers! let me name a spell, shall rouse your souls again, 55
  And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart and vein. 
  Call back the days of bygone years,—­be young and strong once more;
  Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we’ve cross’d before.

  Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,—­
  Again upon the Garry’s[6] banks, on Scottish soil we stand! 60
  Again I see the tartans[7] wave, again the trumpets ring;
  Again I hear our leader’s call; ‘Upon them for the King!’
  Stay’d we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?[8]
  The soul of Graeme is with us still,—­now, brothers, will ye in?”
  No stay,—­no pause.  With one accord, they grasp’d each
      other’s hand, 65
  Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band. 
  High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
  Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and cannon-roar,—­
  “Now, by the Holy Cross!  I swear, since earth and sea began,
  Was never such a daring deed essay’d by mortal man!” 70