The night wind rushes by her:
“‘Few, O few, are the leal and true,
And fewer shall be, and fewer;
The land is a corse;—no life, no force—
O wind with sere leaves strew her!
“‘Men ask what scope is left for hope
To one who has known her story;
I trust her dead! Their graves are red;
But their souls are with God in glory.’”
This note is not to be found in the whole range of Highland poetry. Perhaps it is because the retrospect of the past is not so full of sadness for the Highlander, who, notwithstanding his rebellions and their frequent non-success, has fairly maintained his ground in Scotland. He has had his share in the struggles for Scotland’s independence; and he now identifies himself with the whole nation, proud of the name, and rejoicing in her glorious history. The Jacobite bard, Alexander Macdonald, addresses the Scottish Lion thus:—