The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Rous’d up the soldier ere the morning star;
While throng’d the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering with white lips—“The foe! they come! they come!”
And wild and high the “Camerons’ gathering” rose,
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn’s hills