“Heavens!” Ronald cried, in accents gladly wild, “That woman was my mother—I the child! Of you unknown by name she late and air,[103] Spoke, wept, and ever blessed you in her prayer, Ev’n to her death; describing you withal A well-looked florid youth, blue-eyed and tall.” They rose, exchanged embrace: the old lion then Upstarted, metamorphosed, from his den; Saying, “Come and make thy home with us for life, Heaven-sent preserver of my child and wife. I fear thou’rt poor, that Hanoverian thing Rewards his soldiers ill.”—“God save the king!” With hand upon his heart, old Allan said, “I wear his uniform, I eat his bread, And whilst I’ve tooth to bite a cartridge, all For him and Britain’s fame I’ll stand or fall.” “Bravo!” cried Ronald. “I commend your zeal,” Quoth Norman, “and I see your heart is leal; But I have prayed my soul may never thrive If thou shouldst leave this house of ours alive. Nor shalt thou; in this home protract thy breath Of easy life, nor leave it till thy death.” ... The following morn arose serene as glass, And red Bennevis shone like molten brass; While sunrise opened flowers with gentle force, The guest and Ronald walked in long discourse. “Words fail me,” Allan said, “to thank aright Your father’s kindness shown me yesternight; Yet scarce I’d wish my latest days to spend A fireside fixture with the dearest friend: Besides, I’ve but a fortnight’s furlough now, To reach Macallin More,[104] beyond Lochawe. I’d fain memorialize the powers that be, To deign remembrance of my wounds and me; My life-long service never bore the brand Of sentence—lash—disgrace or reprimand. And so I’ve written, though in meagre style, A long petition to his Grace Argyle; I mean, on reaching Innerara’s shore, To leave it safe within his castle door.” “Nay,” Ronald said, “the letter that you bear Entrust it to no lying varlet’s care; But say a soldier of King George demands Access, to leave it in the Duke’s own hands. But show me, first, the epistle to your chief, ’Tis nought, unless succinctly clear and brief; Great men have no great patience when they read, And long petitions spoil the cause they plead.” That day saw Ronald from the field full soon Return; and when they all had dined at noon, He conned th’ old man’s memorial—lopped its length, And gave it style, simplicity, and strength; ’Twas finished in an hour—and in the next Transcribed by Allan in perspicuous text.