Besides, I’ve but a fortnight’s furlough now,
To reach Macallin More,[104] beyond Lochawe.
I’d fain memorialize the powers that be,
To deign remembrance of my wounds and me;
My life-long service never bore the brand
Of sentence—lash—disgrace or reprimand.
And so I’ve written, though in meagre style,
A long petition to his Grace Argyle;
I mean, on reaching Innerara’s shore,
To leave it safe within his castle door.”