At evening, he and Ronald shared once more A long and pleasant walk by Cona’s shore. “I’d press you,” quoth his host—(“I need not say How warmly) ever more with us to stay; But Charles intends, ’tis said, in these same parts To try the fealty of our Highland hearts. ’Tis my belief, that he and all his line Have—saving to be hanged—no right divine; From whose mad enterprise can only flow To thousands slaughter, and to myriads woe. Yet have they stirred my father’s spirit sore, He flints his pistols—whets his old claymore— And longs as ardently to join the fray As boy to dance who hears the bagpipe play. Though calm one day, the next, disdaining rule, He’d gore your red coat like an angry bull: I told him, and he owned it might be so, Your tempers never could in concert flow. But ‘Mark,’ he added, ‘Ronald! from our door Let not this guest depart forlorn and poor; Let not your souls the niggardness evince Of lowland pedlar, or of German prince; He gave you life—then feed him as you’d feed Your very father were he cast in need.’ He gave—you’ll find it by your bed to-night, A leathern purse of crowns, all sterling bright: You see I do you kindness not by stealth. My wife—no advocate of squandering wealth— Vows that it would be parricide, or worse, Should we neglect you—here’s a silken purse, Some golden pieces through the network shine, ’Tis proffered to you from her heart and mine. But come I no foolish delicacy, no! We own, but cannot cancel what we owe— This sum shall duly reach you once a year.” Poor Allan’s furrowed face, and flowing tear, Confessed sensations which he could not speak, Old Norman bade him farewell kindly meek. At morn, the smiling dame rejoiced to pack With viands full th’ old soldier’s havresack. He feared not hungry grass[105] with such a load, And Ronald saw him miles upon his road. A march of three days brought him to Lochfyne. Argyle, struck with his manly look benign, And feeling interest in the veteran’s lot, Created him a sergeant on the spot— An invalid, to serve not—but with pay (A mighty sum to him), twelve-pence a day. “But have you heard not,” said Macallin More, “Charles Stuart’s landed on Eriska’s shore, And Jacobites are arming?”—“What! indeed! Arrived! then I’m no more an invalid; My new-got halbert I must straight employ In battle.”—“As you please, old gallant boy: Your grey hairs well might plead excuse, ’tis true, But now’s the time we want such men as you.” In brief, at Innerara Allan stayed, And joined the banners of Argyle’s brigade.