Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light
When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night
And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide
And lights the fearful path on mountain-side
Fair as that beam, although the fairest far
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride
Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star
Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War
That early beam, so fair and sheen
Was twinkling through the hazel screen
When, rousing at its glimmer red
The warriors left their lowly bed
Looked out upon the dappled sky
Muttered their soldier matins try
And then awaked their fire, to steal
As short and rude, their soldier meal
Awake!
That o'er, the Gael around him threw
His graceful plaid of varied hue
And, true to promise, led the way
By thicket green and mountain gray
The Ghosts of Culloden!!
A wildering path! They winded now
Along the precipice's brow
Commanding the rich scenes beneath
The windings of the Forth and Teith
And all the vales between that lie
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance
Gained not the length of horseman's lance
Awake!
That o'er, the Gael around him threw
His graceful plaid of varied hue
And, true to promise, led the way
By thicket green and mountain gray