—‘My banner man, advance!
I see,’ he cried, ‘their column shake.—
Now, gallants! for your ladies’ sake,
Upon them with the lance!’—
The horsemen dash’d among the rout,
As deer break through the broom;
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out,
They soon make lightsome room.
Clan-Alpine’s best are backward borne—
Where, where was Roderick then?