"'Revenge! revenge! " the Saxons cried, The Gaels' exulting shout replied.

Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage;But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and from a crag Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.

Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar A herald's voice forbade the war, For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold Were both, he said, in captive hold.'--But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy:

At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, With lifted hand kept feeble time;That motion ceased,--yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song;At length, no more his deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear;His face grows sharp,--his hands are clenched'

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched;

Set are his teeth, his fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy;Thus, motionless and moanless, drew His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu!--Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit passed;But when he saw that life was fled, He poured his wailing o'er the dead.