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The Jews they oppressed thee : with jealousy fired
Thine own foster-children against the conspired ;
And the vengeance that followed their treacherous crime
Remains yet unmatched in the annals of time.
The Gentiles oppressed thee; the Roman, the Greek,
Combined to destroy thee when thou wast but weak;
And though foremost in faine, and unrivalled in power,
Their glory departed from that very
The monster that mocked thee, the Harlot of Rome ;
That dared thy pure name, and thy rights to assume ;
Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, stole into thy fold ;
And filled it with horrors and murders untold.
But the struggling prey from her death-grasp was torn ;
She was stripped of her mask’mid the world's hizzing scorn ;
And the rage of her heart, though it rankle unblushed ;
Never fear, for the head of the serpent is crushed !
Alas! in the land where thy God is well known,
Where the light of his truth has for centuries shone ;
Even there has the arm of oppression been raised,
And the fires of affliction around thee have blazed.
Thro' the moors and the mountains thy children were chased,
By bigoted tyrants thy gates were laid waste,
The dungeon re-echoed thy lonely complaints,
And the scaffold was red with the blood of thy saints.
But thy woes were avenged ; for the fatuous race
Of princes that wronged thee, with scorn and disgrace,
Were dethroned and cast forth from the soil of their birth,
And their seed has been swept from the face of the earth!
Why fearest thou then ? what hast thou to dread ?
Thus preserved by the might of thy glorious Head :-
Canst thou think of one foe that against thee has striven,
But has perished beneath the just.vengeance of heaven!
Still apostates will rage, and rulers will plot
To compass thy downfall, yet tremble thou not :
Afflictions and bonds they may on thee entail,
But against thee they will not, they cannot prevail !
The surges may rise, and may burst with a shock,
They may roll o’er the head of the deep-rooted rock :
But when they fall back from their swell and their roar,
The rock stands as firm as they found it before !
Great Daughter of Zion, stand true to thy Lord !
Look up for His grace, and walk close by His word ;
Rinn na h-Iudhaich ort ainneart le boile-gun chiall,
's do mhic eadhon, dh' èirich a'd' aghaidh le foill;
Ach tha 'm mallachd a thainig a nuas air an cinn,
A' seasamh gun choimeas an eachdraidh gach linn.
Dh'iarr na Cinnich do mhilleadh le fóirneart an làimh',
Luchd-áitich na Gréige-luchd-àitich na Róimh';
Ach ainmeil mar bha iad, ghrad chaochail an glòir
O’n am anns an d'iarr iad le mi-run a'd' chòir.
An uile bheist chealgach, dearg shiùrsach na Ròimh',
Gu dàna ghlac t ainm agus còraichean t'àigh,
Fo choltas na caorach ghoid 'stigh air do chrò,
'S ghrad rinn i a lìonadh le h-ainneart a's bròn.
Ach spìonadh a' chreach so gun taing as a glaic,
'S a gràinealachd oillteil ghrad thugadh gu beachd ;
Ged tha fraoch-fhearg a cridhe le gamhlas ag at,
Coma dhuit-sa cò dhiùbh-chaidh an nathair a lot.
Mo chreach! anns an tir sa' bheil eòlas air Dia,
Agus solus an t-soisgeil a' dealradh
gu Seadh! eadhon an sin chlaoidh iad thusa gn cruaidh, A's dh'fheuch iad do mhilleadh le deuchainnibh truagh. Feadh gharbhlach na beinne do ruag iad do chlann, Do naomh-thighean leag iad, le foirneart an lann; 'S e daingneach a phrìosain a fhuair thu o d' nàimh, ''S tha 'chroich air a deargadh le fuil do chuid dàimh. Ach dh'fhuiling do naimhdean, as dh' fhuiling an sliochd, A's dh'fhògradh gach aon diubh gun
iochd Chaochail iadsan air faontraigh, 'nan allabain thruagh, O dhùthaich an sinnsear, gun iomradh gun luaidh. Com tha thusa fo imcheist, no idir fo sgàth? Do Cheannard cha tréig thu a chaoidh no gu bràth! Aon nàmhaid cha d'éirich a' t' aghaidh-sa riamh, Nach do shearg ann an tiota fo chorruich an Triath. Ged dh'éireadh gach nàmhaid tha miannach do sgrios, Na gabhadh iad mùiseag tha 'g iarraidh do leas; Oir is suarach gach innleachd a chleachdas an daoi, Cha bhuadhaich a h-aon diubh a' t' aghaidh-sa chaoidh. Ged dh'éireadh an fhairge, 's ged dh'atadh an cuan, Ged bhristeadh iad thairis air carraig nan stuagh ; Air an ais’ nuair a philleas na tonnan le gàir, Tha charraig 'na seasamh gu daingeann mar bha. Do nigheans', o Shion ! biodh dileas do d' Righ! Bheir esan gach cùis, ann an gliocas gu crìch;
And though judges may threaten, and statesmen may frown,
Be sure that thy bulwarks will never come down !
The hearens shall depart, and the earth shall decay,
The world and its minions shall soon pass away :
But no jot of the rights which to thee have been willed,
Shall o'er pass away till all be fulfilled.
In a dream of the night I was wafted away
To the muirland of mist where the bless'd Martyrs lay ;
Where Cameron's sword and his bible are seen,
Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green.
'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,
When the minister's home was the mountain and wood;
When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion,
All bloody and torn ʼmong the heather was lying.
'Twas morning ; and summer's young sun from the east
Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's breast ;
On Woodland and Cairntable the clear shining dew
Glisten’d there’mong the heath-bells and mountain flowers blue
And far up in heaven, near the white sunny cloud,
The song of the lark was melodious and loud,
And in Glenmuir’s wild solitude, lengthened and deep,
Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep.
And Wellwood's sweet valleys breathed music and gladdness;
The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness ;
Its daughters were happy to hail the returning,
And drink the delights of July's sweet morning.
But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings,
Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings,
Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow,
For they knew that their blood wonld bedew it to-morrow,
'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying,
Concealed ʼmong the mist where the heathfowl was crying ;
For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,
And their bridle reins rang through the thin misty covering.
Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed,
But the vengeance that darkened their brow was unbreathed
Imich thusa gu h-earbsach an solus a ghnùis',
'S do bhàbhuinn a chaoidh cha toir nàmhaid a nuas.
Theid nèamh agus talamh chuir thairis gu dian,
A's caochlaidh na daoine mar shneachda nan sian ;
Ach a' phuing sin is lugha, cha chaochail am feasd,
Do gach gealladh a thugadh do Eaglais Chriosd.
ann an aisling na h-oidh'ch' chaidh mo ghiulan an àird
Chum nam beann air 'n do rnaigeadh na Mairtirich àigh ;
Far bheil Biobuill nan naomh 's airm-chatha nan laoch,
Air an gearradh air cloich far an dosrach am fraoch.
B'e aisling mu linntean geur-leanmhuinn a bh'ann,
'N uair dh'fhògradh na naoimh roi' choilltibh nam beann ;
Bha caomh bhratach Shioin ’an uaigneas an t-sléibh,
Air a dathadh le fuil, agus reubt’ as a chéil'.
B'e maduinn an t-samhraidh, a's bha fann ghath na gréine,
Gu h-àillidh a' boillsgeadh air gorm shlios nan sléibhtean;
Air beanntan na dù'cha bha tlà dhealt a's drùchd,
A’ braonadh air lusan, 's air blaithean nan stùchd.
Bha'n uiseag gu ceolmhor feadh neoil ghil nan speur,
A’ seinn le toilinntinn am binn cheileir réidh,
Bha'n f headag ga cluinntinn an an doimhneachd an aonaich,
'S air monadh an fhraoich bha mèilich nan caorach.
Gleann Wellwood bha ùror a' fosgladh fo shòlas,
'S gach ceud-bhlàth air fàs ann an àirde am bòichead ;
Chuir oighean a' ghlinne le áiteas an gràidh,
Fàilte le sòlas air maduinn an àigh.
Ach mo thruaighe do'n bhuidhinn a dh'éirich le chéile,
Fhuair sealladh roi' laimh air an teannidachd bha 'g éiridh ;
Cha b'urrainn iad tlachd a bhi ac' air an làraich,
Far am b'fhios doibh am fuil bhi ga dòrtadh am maireach.
B'iad fuigheall nan laoch a sheas dìleas le Cameron,
Bha gam folach 'sa' cheo am measg ruadh-eoin a'gharbhlaich,
Oir bha marcaichean Earshall a'tarruing 'g an còir,
Srianan nan each bha ri'm faicinn roi'n cheò.
Bha'n aghaidhean uaine, 's an claidheannan rùisgte,
Ach bha'n dio’ltas a dhubhraich an sùilean gun bhrùchdadh
turned to heaven in calm resignation, They sung their last song to the God of salvation. The hills with the deep mournfnl music were ringing ; The curlew and plover in concert were singing ; But the melody died 'mid derision and laughter, As the host of ungodly rushed on to the slaughter. Though in mist, and in darkness, and fire, they were shrouded, Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded ; Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and unbending, They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending. The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming, The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming, The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling, When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling When the righteous had fallen and the combat was ended, A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended ; Its drivers were angels, on horses of whiteness, And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness. A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining, And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation, Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation. On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding ; Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding ; Glide swiftly, bright spirits ! the prize is before ye, A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory!
HUNALD ! the counsel of Columba hear,
And to thy friend give now a willing ear ;
No studied ornament shall gild my speech,
What love shall dictate, I will plainly preach.
Have faith in God, and his commands obey,
While fleeting life allows you here to stay ;
And know, the end for which this life is given,
Is to prepare the soul for God and heaven.
Despise the pleasures which will not remain,
Nor set thy heart on momentary gain :
But seek for treasures in the sacred page,
And in the precepts of each saint and sage.