Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid, And yet, whate'er such legends say, Should bowne them with the rising day, Early they took Dun-Edin's road, And I could trace each step they trode; Lies on the path to me unknown. Edinburgh from the Braid hills. But, passing such digression o'er, They passed the glen and scanty rill, Blackford! on whose uncultured breast, Among the broom, the thorn, and whin, A truant boy, I sought the nest, Or listed, as I lay at rest, While rose, on breezes thin, The murmur of the city crowd, And, from his steeple jangling loud, Saint Giles's mingling din. Now, from the summit to the plain, And o'er the landscape as I look, To me they make a heavy moan, Of early friendships past and gone. But different far the change has been, A thousand did I say? I ween, That chequered all the heath between In crossing ranks extending far, Forming a camp irregular; Oft giving way, where still there stood Some reliques of the old oak-wood, The Borough-Moor. That darkly huge did intervene, And tame the glaring white with green: In these extended lines there lay A martial kingdom's vast array. For from Hebudes, dark with rain, To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, And from the southern Redswire edge, To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge; From west to east, from south to north, And charger's shrilling neigh; And see the shifting lines advance, While frequent flashed, from shield and lance, The sun's reflected ray. Thin curling in the morning air, The wreaths of failing smoke declare, To embers now the brands decayed, Where the night-watch their fires had made. They saw, slow rolling on the plain, Full many a baggage-cart and wain, And dire artillery's clumsy car, By sluggish oxen tugged to war; And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,' The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. Nor marked they less, where in the air Various in shape, device, and hue, O'er the pavilions flew. Highest, and midmost, was descried The royal banner, floating wide; The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight, And gave to view the dazzling field, Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. 1 Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick. .2 Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of those entitled to display them. |