In hopes, cannon could not get there,
Which was great pain, I must declare,
The way so rough was, and so ill,
But drawn by men were up the hill.
The Duke his march made very slow,
Being form’d in lines as on they go:
In four columns they march’d away,
On cannon and baggage, made them stay,
Did front and rear in a body keep,
Except the Campbells, who ran like sheep,