That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
XX.
All in the Trosachs’ glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whoop’d loud and high—
“Murdoch! was that a signal cry?”—
He stammer’d forth—“I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare.”
He look’d—he knew the raven’s prey,
His own brave steed:—“Ah! gallant gray!