Wrathful at such arraignment foul, Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. A space he paused, then sternly said, "And heard'st thou why he drew his blade? 115 Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What recked the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood? He rights such wrong where it is given, 120 If it were in the court of heaven." "Still was it outrage--yet, 'tis true, Not then claimed sovereignty his due; While Albany, with feeble hand, Held borrowed truncheon of command, 125 The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! Winning mean prey by causeless strife, Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 His herds and harvest reared in vain-- Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne." VII The Gael beheld him grim the while, And answered with disdainful smile-- 135 "Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 With gentle slopes and groves between; These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. 145 Where dwell we now! See, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread For fattened steer or household bread; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 And well the mountain might reply, 'To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore! I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the rest.' 155 Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey? Aye, by my soul! While on yon plain 160 The Saxon rears one shock of grain; While, of ten thousand herds, there strays But one along yon river's maze, The Gael, of plain and river heir, Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 165 Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and fold Is aught but retribution true? Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu." VIII