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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538110" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Burial March Of Dundee</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sound the fife, and cry the slogan-<br>Let the pibroch shake the air<br>With its wild triumphal music,<br>Worthy of the freight we bear.<br>Let the ancient hills of Scotland<br>Hear once more the battle-song<br>Swell within their glens and valleys<br>As the clansmen march along!<br>Never from the field of combat,<br>Never from the deadly fray,<br>Was a nobler trophy carried<br>Than we bring with us to-day;<br>Never, since the valiant Douglas<br>On his dauntless bosom bore<br>Good King Robert's heart-the priceless-<br>To our dear Redeemer's shore!<br>Lo! we bring with us the hero-<br>Lo! we bring the conquering Græme,<br>Crowned as best beseems a victor<br>From the altar of his fame;<br>Fresh and bleeding from the battle<br>Whence his spirit took its flight,<br>Midst the crashing charge of squadrons,<br>And the thunder of the fight!<br>Strike, I say, the notes of triumph,<br>As we march o'er moor and lea!<br>Is there any here will venture<br>To bewail our dead Dundee?<br>Let the widows of the traitors<br>Weep until their eyes are dim!<br>Wail ye may full well for Scotland-<br>Let none dare to mourn for him!<br>See! above his glorious body<br>Lies the royal banner's fold-<br>See! his valiant blood is mingled<br>With its crimson and its gold.<br>See! how calm he looks and stately,<br>Like a warrior on his shield,<br>Waiting till the flush of morning<br>Breaks along the battle-field!<br>See-Oh never more, my comrades!<br>Shall we see that falcon eye<br>Redden with its inward lightning,<br>As the hour of fight drew nigh;<br>Never shall we hear the voice that,<br>Clearer than the trumpet's call,<br>Bade us strike for King and Country,<br>Bade us win the field or fall!<br>On the heights of Killiecrankie<br>Yester-morn our army lay:<br>Slowly rose the mist in columns<br>From the river's broken way;<br>Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent,<br>And the pass was wrapped in gloom,<br>When the clansmen rose together<br>From their lair amidst the broom.<br>Then we belted on our tartans,<br>And our bonnets down we drew,<br>And we felt our broadswords' edges,<br>And we proved them to be true;<br>And we prayed the prayer of soldiers,<br>And we cried the gathering-cry,<br>And we clasped the hands of kinsmen,<br>And we swore to do or die!<br>Then our leader rode before us<br>On his war-horse black as night-<br>Well the Cameronian rebels<br>Knew that charger in the fight!-<br>And a cry of exultation<br>From the bearded warriors rose;<br>For we loved the house of Claver'se,<br>And we thought of good Montrose.<br>But he raised his hand for silence-<br>'Soldiers! I have sworn a vow:<br>Ere the evening-star shall glisten<br>On Schehallion's lofty brow,<br>Either we shall rest in triumph,<br>Or another of the Graemes<br>Shall have died in battle-harness<br>For his Country and King James!<br>Think upon the Royal Martyr-<br>Think of what his race endure-<br>Think on him whom butchers murder'd<br>On the field of Magus Muir:-<br>By his sacred blood I charge ye,<br>By the ruin'd hearth and shrine-<br>By the blighted hopes of Scotland,<br>By your injuries and mine-<br>Strike this day as if the anvil<br>Lay beneath your blows the while,<br>Be they Covenanting traitors,<br>Or the brood of false Argyle!<br>Strike! and drive the trembling rebels<br>Backwards o'er the stormy Forth;<br>Let them tell their pale Convention<br>How they fared within the North.<br>Let them tell that Highland honour<br>Is not to be bought nor sold,<br>That we scorn their Prince's anger,<br>As we loathe his foreign gold.<br>Strike! and when the fight is over,<br>If ye look in vain for me,<br>Where the dead are lying thickest,<br>Search for him that was Dundee!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Loudly then the hills re-echoed<br>With our answer to his call,<br>But a deeper echo sounded<br>In the bosoms of us all.<br>For the lands of wide Breadalbane,<br>Not a man who heard him speak<br>Would that day have left the battle.<br>Burning eye and flushing cheek<br>Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,<br>And they harder drew their breath;<br>For their souls were strong within them,<br>Stronger than the grasp of death.<br>Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet<br>Sounding in the pass below,<br>And the distant tramp of horses,<br>And the voices of the foe:<br>Down we crouched amid the bracken,<br>Till the Lowland ranks drew near,<br>Panting like the hounds in summer,<br>When they scent the stately deer.<br>From the dark defile emerging,<br>Next we saw the squadrons come,<br>Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers<br>Marching to the tuck of drum;<br>Through the scattered wood of birches,<br>O'er the broken ground and heath,<br>Wound the long battalion slowly,<br>Till they gained the field beneath;<br>Then we bounded from our covert.-<br>Judge how looked the Saxons then,<br>When they saw the rugged mountain<br>Start to life with armèd men!<br>Like a tempest down the ridges,<br>Swept the hurricane of steel,<br>Rose the slogan of Macdonald-<br>Flashed the broadsword of Locheill!<br>Vainly sped the withering volley<br>'Mongst the foremost of our band-<br>On we poured until we met them,<br>Foot to foot, and hand to hand.<br>Horse and man went down like drift-wood<br>When the floods are black at Yule,<br>And their carcasses are whirling<br>In the Garry's deepest pool.<br>Horse and man went down before us-<br>Living foe there tarried none<br>On the field of Killiecrankie,<br>When that stubborn fight was done!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the evening-star was shining<br>On Schehallion's distant head,<br>When we wiped our bloody broadswords,<br>And returned to count the dead.<br>There we found him, gashed and gory,<br>Stretch'd upon the cumbered plain,<br>As he told us where to seek him,<br>In the thickest of the slain.<br>And a smile was on his visage,<br>For within his dying ear<br>Pealed the joyful note of triumph,<br>And the clansmen's clamorous cheer:<br>So, amidst the battle's thunder,<br>Shot, and steel, and scorching flame,<br>In the glory of his manhood<br>Passed the spirit of the Græme!<br>Open wide the vaults of Athol,<br>Where the bones of heroes rest-<br>Open wide the hallowed portals<br>To receive another guest!<br>Last of Scots, and last of freemen-<br>Last of all that dauntless race<br>Who would rather die unsullied<br>Than outlive the land's disgrace!<br>O thou lion-hearted warrior!<br>Reck not of the after-time:<br>Honour may be deemed dishonour,<br>Loyalty be called a crime.<br>Sleep in peace with kindred ashes<br>Of the noble and the true,<br>Hands that never failed their country,<br>Hearts that never baseness knew.<br>Sleep!-and till the latest trumpet<br>Wakes the dead from earth and sea,<br>Scotland shall not boast a braver<br>Chieftain than our own Dundee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Edmondstoune+Aytoun">William Edmondstoune Aytoun</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538110" data-title="The Burial March Of Dundee de William Edmondstoune Aytoun" data-description="Sound the fife, and cry the slogan-
Let the pibroch shake the air
With its wild triumphal music,
Worthy of the freight we bear.
Let the ancient hills of Scotland
Hear once more the battle-song
Swell within their glens and valleys
As the clansmen m..."></div>
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