Through storm of shot and hedge of steel,
Led the grandson of Lochiel,
The valiant Fassiefern.
Through steel and shot he leads no more;
Low laid ’mid friends’ and foemen’s gore;
But long his native lake’s wild shore,
And Sunard rough, and wild Ardgour,
And Morven long shall tell;
And proud Ben-Nevis hear with awe,
How, at the bloody Quatre Bras,