"O little knew we of the men Who ruled within the land; The days were gone when Scottish hearts O'er Scotland held command. The days were gone when valiant souls, Who knew their country's right, Stood foremost at the council board As they were first in fight. XIV. "The spirit of the olden time, That blazed so bright of yore, Had died away, and no one spoke Of faith or honour more. They deemed this glorious earth was made, And vaulted with the sky, For nothing but to gather gold-- To traffic, fawn, and lie! XV. "And so they reared the chimney-stalk, And so they laid the keel, And trampled on the labouring poor With hard and heavy heel. A cold and crafty Southron carle Was lord and master there: No gentle blood had he who stood Beside the monarch's chair. XVI. "He made his laws--I wot not how-- But this I know full well, That ruin like a biting frost Upon the country fell. It mattered not how bright the sun, How bountiful the rain, The wickedness of man had made The gifts of God in vain. XVII. "These were sore days. Within the towns Was naught but foreign bread; By foreign serfs beyond the seas The people now were fed. No work was there for us to do, No labour far or near; We dared not render thanks to Him Who sent a fruitful year. XVIII. "The plough lay rusting in the field: We drove our cattle down, We sold them--'twas our last resource, Within a distant town. The poor dumb creatures! when they went I knew the hour must come For the like woeful journey next, To those that were not dumb. XIX. "And so it fell. One weary day The bitter news was told, That the fair land we loved so well Was to a stranger sold. The race that for a thousand years Had dwelt within the glen, Were rudely summoned from their homes, To beg as broken men. XX. "Some would not leave--the ruffians tore The crumbling thatch away; They plucked the rafters from the wall, And bade them starve and stay! The old, the bedrid, and the sick, The wife and new-born child-- I thank my God I did not strike, Although my heart was wild! XXI. "We parted--kinsfolk, clansmen, friends, With heavy hearts and sore; We parted by the water-side, To meet on earth no more. The sun was sinking to his rest Amidst a lurid sky, And from the darkening hill above We heard the falcon's cry." XXII. "O wicked deed, O cruel men! O sad and woeful day! But, grandsire, tell us of your friends And kinsfolk, where are they?" "They lie within the festering heaps, Among the city dead-- Scant burial had they for their bones, No gravestone marks their head; XXIII.