I own my expectation,-- 'Tis this has roused my apathy, That He who rules creation May change the dismal hap of thee, And hasten to restore thee In safety from thy danger, To thine own, in joy and glory, To save us from the stranger. With princely grace to give redress, Nor a taunt to suffer back again; The fell Monro has felt thy blow, And should he dare attack again, Then as he flew, he 'll run anew, The flames to quench he 'll labour on, Of castle fired--when Staghead High raises his cabar on! I 've seen thee o'er the lowly, A gracious chieftain ever, The Cátach[145] self below thee, And the Gallach[145] cower'd for cover; But ever more their striving, When claim'd respect thine eye, Thy scourge corrected, driving To other lands to fly. Thy loyal crew of clansmen true, No panic fear shall turn them, With steel-cap, blade, and _skene_ array'd, Their banning foes they spurn them. Clan-Shimei[146] then may dare them, They 'll fly, had each a sabre on, Needs but a look--when Staghead Once raises his cabar on. Mounts not the wing a fouler thing, Than thy vaunted crest, the eagle,[147] O! Inglorious chief! to boast the thief, That forays with the beagle, O! For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird![148] My song shall raise the mountain-deer; The prey he scorns, the carcase spurns, He loves the cress, the fountain cheer. His lodge is in the forest;-- While carion-flesh enticing Thy greedy maw, thou buriest Thou kite of prey! thy claws in The putrid corse of famish'd horse, The greedy hound a-striving To rival thee in gluttony, Both at the bowels riving. Thou called the _true bird_![149]--Never, Thou foster child of evil,[150] ha! How ill match with thy feather[151] The talons[152] of thy devilry! But when thy foray preys on Our harmless flocks, so dastardly, How often has the shepherd With trusty baton master'd thee; Well in thy fright hast timed thy flight, Else, not alone, belabouring, He 'd gored thee with the Staghead, Up-raising his cabar on.[153] Woe worth the world, deceiver-- So false, so fair of seeming! We 've seen the noble Siphort[154] With all his war-notes[155] screaming; When not a chief in Albain, Mac-Ailein's[156] self though backing him, Could face his frown--as Staghead Arose with his cabar on. To join thy might, when call'd the right, A gallant army springing on, Would rise, from Assint to the crags Of Scalpa, rescue bringing on. Each man upon, true-flinted gun, Steel glaive, and trusty dagaichean; With the Island Lord of Sleitè,[157] When up rose thy cabar on!