The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Callum-a-Glen.
|
 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Callum-a-Glen.
Was ever old warrior of suffering so weary?
Was ever the wild beast so bay'd in his den?
The southern bloodhounds lie in kennel so near me,
That death would be freedom to Callum-a-Glen.
My sons are all slain, and my daughters have left me,
No child to protect me where once there were ten;
My chief they have slain, and of stay have bereft me,
And woe to the gray hairs of Callum-a-Glen!
Was ever the wild beast so bay'd in his den?
The southern bloodhounds lie in kennel so near me,
That death would be freedom to Callum-a-Glen.
My sons are all slain, and my daughters have left me,
No child to protect me where once there were ten;
My chief they have slain, and of stay have bereft me,
And woe to the gray hairs of Callum-a-Glen!
The homes of my kinsmen are blazing to heaven,
The bright steep of morning has blush'd at the view;
The moon has stood still on the verge of the even,
To wipe from her pale cheek the tint of the dew;
For the dew it lies red on the vales of Lochaber,
It sprinkles the cot, and it flows in the pen;
The pride of my country is fallen for ever—
Death, hast thou no shaft for old Callum-a-Glen?
The bright steep of morning has blush'd at the view;
The moon has stood still on the verge of the even,
To wipe from her pale cheek the tint of the dew;
For the dew it lies red on the vales of Lochaber,
It sprinkles the cot, and it flows in the pen;
The pride of my country is fallen for ever—
Death, hast thou no shaft for old Callum-a-Glen?
The sun in his glory has look'd on our sorrow,
The stars have wept blood over hamlet and lea;
Oh! is there no day-spring for Scotland—no morrow
Of bright renovation for souls of the free?
Yes, One above all hath beheld our devotion,
Our valour and faith are not hid from his ken;
The day is abiding of stern retribution
On all the proud foes of old Callum-a-Glen.
The stars have wept blood over hamlet and lea;
Oh! is there no day-spring for Scotland—no morrow
Of bright renovation for souls of the free?
Yes, One above all hath beheld our devotion,
Our valour and faith are not hid from his ken;
The day is abiding of stern retribution
On all the proud foes of old Callum-a-Glen.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |