Petition to the Deil :: :: University of Virginia Library

Here the Macgregor dwelt—
The dauntless and the deathless man,
The living spirit of his clan,
The later glory of the Celt!
Among these rocks, where he hath been,
His vigour animates the scene,
And in the breeze his breath is felt.

Untamed, he wander'd free,
Owning no arrogated rule
Of tyrant, pedant, rogue, or fool:
Law-giver to himself was he!
The right of common sense he saw,
Great Nature's broad unwritten law,
Which all acknowledge when they see.

He practised what he spoke;
Spread his broad shoulders to the sun,
Claim'd the same right for every one,
And stood unbent by curb or yoke.
Not otherwise the forest tree
Stands with its nurslings round its knee,
And woods spring from the parent oak.

I see him in his sons:
The dauntless look, the step that springs,
The shoulders, carried like a king's,
Bespeak them of his race at once!
On hill, in glen, in croft, or cot,
Hunter or herdsman, or what not—
No servile blood within them runs.

O not for crops of corn;
Not for its herds, the wild, the tame,
Its springing fish, its feather'd game,
This tract with pride confronts the morn;
But for its nobler breed of men,
The human rent of rock and glen
From Leny to the Land of Lorn.

There is the Border breed,
Bold and resourceful, stubborn, true,
The Lowlander, the Islesman too,
Undaunted, staunch, and good at need:
His place and due to every man—
The Highlander's is in the van:
Follow who list, the Celt must lead!