62 HOHENLINDEN. HOHENLINDEN. ON Linden when the sun was low, But Linden saw another sight By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Then shook the hills, with thunder riven; But redder yet that light shall glow 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few shall part where many meet; Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Thomas Campbell. GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK. PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Come from deep glen, and True heart that wears one, Strong hand that bears one. 63 64 GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK. Leave untended the herd, Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset! Sir W. Scott. CORONACH. 65 CORONACH. HE is gone on the mountain, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. From the raindrops shall borrow, To Duncan no morrow! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, Waft the leaves that are serest, Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber! Sir W. Scott. Modern Poets. 5 66 THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, We buried him darkly at dead of night, No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, |