 | Lays of the Highlands and Islands |  |
48
THE RUINED CLACHAN.
At Tobermory, o'er the hills
I wandered, when the noon was sunny,
Through oozy bogs and trickling rills,
And hum of bees that roamed for honey.
I wound my way through ferny maze,
A light and random path pursuing,
Till in the glen there met my gaze
A clump of cottages in ruin.
I wandered, when the noon was sunny,
Through oozy bogs and trickling rills,
And hum of bees that roamed for honey.
I wound my way through ferny maze,
A light and random path pursuing,
Till in the glen there met my gaze
A clump of cottages in ruin.
My heart grew sad, my heart grew warm,
The tears adown my cheeks came rolling,
And in my breast there rose a storm
That kicked at reason's cold controlling.
Full in my thought there flashed to view
The rare old life that here had vanished,
The lusty thew, the heart so true,
The love, the joy, the manhood banished!
The tears adown my cheeks came rolling,
And in my breast there rose a storm
That kicked at reason's cold controlling.
Full in my thought there flashed to view
The rare old life that here had vanished,
The lusty thew, the heart so true,
The love, the joy, the manhood banished!
49
Who drove them hence, O who was he
Of hoarded rents a stern exactor,
A titled loon of high degree,
Close-fisted laird, or hard-faced factor?
I may not know: but I disburse
My bile on him, that ruthless actor,
And curse him with a hearty curse,
Close-fisted laird or hard-faced factor.
Of hoarded rents a stern exactor,
A titled loon of high degree,
Close-fisted laird, or hard-faced factor?
I may not know: but I disburse
My bile on him, that ruthless actor,
And curse him with a hearty curse,
Close-fisted laird or hard-faced factor.
Yes, cursed be he, and cursed be all
Who live for gold and counted pennies,
Selling their souls to Satan's thrall,
Who hooks his prey with glancing guineas,
Who cheats the eye with glittering gains,
The painted pomp of life bestowing,
But leaves the blood within thy veins
With frosted fountain feebly flowing.
Who live for gold and counted pennies,
Selling their souls to Satan's thrall,
Who hooks his prey with glancing guineas,
Who cheats the eye with glittering gains,
The painted pomp of life bestowing,
But leaves the blood within thy veins
With frosted fountain feebly flowing.
And curst be all who keep the Bens
For sheep and antlered rangers only,
And leave the green and sheltered glens
All houseless, tenantless, and lonely;
Who love no men, who rear no race
To serve their country, when we need them,
Who for the land that knows their face
Will draw the sacred sword of freedom!
For sheep and antlered rangers only,
And leave the green and sheltered glens
All houseless, tenantless, and lonely;
50
To serve their country, when we need them,
Who for the land that knows their face
Will draw the sacred sword of freedom!
If I had land, as I have none,
The people round me I would gather,
And every lad I'd call my son,
And every lass should call me father;
And to each kilted cotter I
Would say, with word so kind and clannish
God bless you all to multiply,
And Earth with Celtic seed replenish!
The people round me I would gather,
And every lad I'd call my son,
And every lass should call me father;
And to each kilted cotter I
Would say, with word so kind and clannish
God bless you all to multiply,
And Earth with Celtic seed replenish!
But I'm just what I am; and so
Will cease to dream of what I might be:
From right beginning all did flow,
And in the end all things will right be.
A human tear is all I can,
A human curse, though scarcely civil,
A tear for all the oppressed of man,
A curse for all that serve the devil!
Will cease to dream of what I might be:
From right beginning all did flow,
And in the end all things will right be.
A human tear is all I can,
A human curse, though scarcely civil,
A tear for all the oppressed of man,
A curse for all that serve the devil!
| Lays of the Highlands and Islands | |