"Like thy star oh, Ul-lochlin! that beams o'er the grove, Are the slow-rolling eyes of the maid that I love; High bosom'd, her girdle diffuses the light Of the moon, when she beams on the ocean at night. The lark and the linnet, they welcome the morn, In a chorus of joy from yon time-gnarled thorn; But the linnet and lark pour their chorus in vain, When the maid that I love sings her sweet Highland strain."* * Translation from the original Gaëlic, by Dominie Daidle. Suddenly he perceived something, and, pausing again in his song, blew the match of his musket, and cried in his native Gaëlic-- "Stand!--who comes here?" Bandolo raised his pistols and blew the matches; then a sound followed, as the Croats, who crept like snakes along the ground, imitated his example. "Speak!" said he in a fierce whisper to Dreghorn and to me. He spoke in broken German, with a word or two of Spanish, and placed a pistol to each of our heads. I felt the cold muzzle against my left temple. My heart stopped--then there was a terrible conflict within it; but I knew the narrow path that honour required me to pursue. Again the sentinel challenged, and cocked his piece. "Maldetto! will you speak--or _you_?" growled Bandolo. "No--never!" said Dreghorn; "not to be made king o' a' braid Scotland--Heevin bless every inch o't!" "Maldicion!" howled the bravo, gnashing his teeth. "Treachery, M'Bane!" I shouted in Gaëlic; "treachery, treachery! The Imperialists are upon you! _Cairn na cuimhne_! Claymore and biodag!" There was a red flash as he fired his musket, and a Croat fell beside me, kicking up his heels in the dark; two pistol-shots followed, and, shot through the brain, poor Dandy Dreghorn sank dead at my feet. I thought myself also slain--for an instant all was chaos! I fell across his body, yet fortunately my cheek was only scorched by powder, while the ball had grazed my helmet, but with sufficient force to knock me down. My escape was miraculous, and Bandolo deemed me shot when I fell on the roadway, and, luckily for myself, close to a small recess in an abutment of the bridge, where I lay unobserved; for to advance would be to fall a sacrifice to the fire of my comrades, who with Ian guarded the gate of the bridge; to retire, would be to perish among the ferocious Imperialists. Firing a volley through the loopholes of the archway, the Highland guard closed the klinket of the well-barricaded gate, and retired double quick into the castle; and now began one of the grandest scenes of war I ever had the fortune to witness! From the high ramparts of the gothic fortress, there burst upon the midnight gloom and on the narrow bridge a flood of light, with a storm of cannon-shot and musketry.