Where are his kinsmen? Ask the fox and raven
That feed upon their corpses gashed and red;
And will he now turn back a trembling craven—
What, what arrests his tread?
Young Annot Lyle, her Highland clairshack waking,
Trills an old ballad to remembrance dear—
And dagger-hilt his rugged hand forsaking
Brushes away the tear.
Lo! the proud Norman and his host are flying,
While in pursuit, with fierce, triumphant cheers,