The voice of praise was heard to peal From Cillechriost's low holy aisle, And on the Sabbath's stilly air Arose the hopeful soul of pray'r: When on the pastor's thoughtful face Played something like a radiant grace; Still was each thought to heaven sent, Still was each knee in prayer bent; Still did each heart in wonder rise To something far beyond the skies, When burst, as an electric cloud Had wrapt them in a flaming shroud, The roof above, the sides around, The altar--nay the very ground Seemed burning, mingled with the air In one wild universal flare! Hark, heaven! through the lurid air Sprung the wild scream of mad despair, Those that so late did breath but love, Whose kindred hearts were interwove, Now tore away strong nature's ties Amidst her stronger agonies; Affection, frantic, burst the band That linked them often hand to hand, And rushed along the maddening tide Which rolled in flames from side to side. Eager the crowded porch to gain In hopes of safety. Ah! how vain? The demon ministers of death. From stern Glengarrie's land of heath Stood bristled round the burning fane Like hells last hopeless, hideous chain, That even the infant might not die Beneath a brighter, cooler sky, Whilst in their savageness of joy The war-pipe screams their victory. PIOBREACHD CILLECHRIOST. Ho! Clanchonich? mark the blaze Reddening all your kindred skies, Hear ye not your children's cries Welcoming Macranuil? Hear ye not the eagle scream O'er the curling, crackling flame Which flies to heaven with the name Of glorious Clandonuil? Ho! horo? the war-note swell, Burst aloud Clanchonich's wail! Hark! it is their wild farewell To Allan-du-Macranuil! Never yet did victor smile On a nobler funeral pile, Than rushes from this holy aisle In memory of Clandonuil! Never shall pale sorrow's tear Blanch the cheek that slumbers here, They have pressed a warmer bier For Allan-du-Macranuil! Never shall a footstep roam From their dreary voiceless home They have slept in one red tomb For grateful Clandonuil! The house of prayer in embers lay, The crowded meeting wore away; The quieted herdboy saw them go With downcast look, serene and slow; But never by the wonted path That wound so smoothly through the heath And led to many a cottage door By meadow-stream, and flow'ry moor, Came back a human voice to say How that meeting sped away. The Conon lends the ready ford, The Conon glitters back the sword, The Conon casts the echo wide, "Arise Clanchonich! to the raid; Pursue the monsters to their lair, Pursue them hell, and earth, and air; Pursue them till the page of time Forgets their name, forgets their crime."