The Stuart had triumphed, the Gael been avenged.

“Ah, fatal Drummossie—sad field of the flying!

The Gathering sank in the hopeless Lament;

What pibroch could stanch the wide wounds of the dying?

What magic rekindle the fire that was spent?

“Proud music, by shame or dishonour ne’er daunted,

By murmur of orphan, by widowed despair,

The fall of thy country thy spell disenchanted,

With the last of the Stuarts it vanished in air!

“Yet rouse thee from slumber, Black Chanter of Chattan,