NORMAN MACLEOD; Or, Tormaid Ban. |
Single-speech Hamilton may be said to have had his marrow in a Highland bard, nearly his contemporary, whose one effort was attended with more lasting popularity than the sole oration of that celebrated person. The clan song of the Mackenzies is the composition in question, and its author is now ascertained to have been a gentleman, or farmer of the better class, of the name of Norman Macleod, a native of Assynt[130] in Sutherland. The most memorable particular known of this person, besides the production of his poetic effort, is his having been the father of a Glasgow professor,[131] whom we remember occupying the chair of Church History in the university in very advanced age, about 1814, assisted by a helper and successor; and of another son, who was the respected minister of Rogart till towards the end of last century. The date of "Caberfae" is not exactly ascertained. It was composed during the exile of Lord Seaforth, but, we imagine, before the '45, in which he did not take part, and while Macshimei (Lord Lovat) still passed for a Whig. In Mackenzie's excellent collection (p. 361), a later date is assigned to the production. The Seaforth tenantry, who (after the manner of the clans) privately supported their chief in his exile, appear to have been much aggrieved by some proceedings of the loyalist, Monro of Fowlis, who, along with his neighbour of Culloden and Lovat, were probably acting under government commission, in which the interests of the crown were seconded by personal or family antagonism. The loyal family of Sutherland, who seem by grant or lease to have had an interest in the estates, also come in for a share of the bard's resentment. All this forms the subject of "Caberfae," which, without having much meaning or poetry, served, like the celebrated "Lillibulero," to animate armies, and inflame party spirit to a degree that can scarcely be imagined. The repetition of "the Staghead, when rises his cabar on," which concludes every strophe, is enough at any time to bring a Mackenzie to his feet, or into the forefront of battle,—being a simple allusion to the Mackenzie crest, allegorised into an emblem of the stag at bay, or ready in his ire to push at his assailant. The cabar is the horn, or, rather, the "tine of the first-head,"—no ignoble emblem, certainly, of clannish fury and impetuosity. The difficulty of the measure compels us to the use of certain metrical freedoms, and also of some Gaelic words, for which is craved the reader's indulgence.
CABERFAE, THE STAGHEAD.[132] A health to Caberfae,
A toast, and a cheery one,
That soon return he may,
Though long and far his tarrying.
The death of shame befal me,
Be riven off my eididh[133] too,
But my fancy hears thy call—we
Should all be up and ready, O!
'Tis I have seen thy weapon keen,
Thine arm, inaction scorning,
Assign their dues to the Munroes,
Their welcome in the morning.
Nor stood the CÁtach[134] to his bratach[135]
For dread of a belabouring,
When up gets the Staghead,
And raises his cabar on.
Woe to the man of Folais,[136]
When he to fight must challenge thee;
Nor better fared the Roses[137]
That lent Monro their valiancy.
The Granndach[138] and the Frazer,[139]
They tarried not the melee in;
Fled Forbes,[140] in dismay, sir,
Culloden-wards, undallying.
Away they ran, while firm remain,
Not one to three, retiring so,
The earl,[141] the craven, took to haven,
Scarce a pistol firing, O!
Mackay[142] of Spoils, his heart recoils,
He cries in haste his cabul[143] on,
He flies—as soars the Staghead,
And raises his cabar on.
Like feather'd creatures flying,
That in the hill-mist shiver,
In haste for refuge hieing,
To the meadow or the river—
So, port they sought, and took to boat,
Bewailing what had happened them,
To trust was rash, the missing flash
Of the rusty guns that weapon'd them.
The coracle of many a skull,
The relics of his neighbour, on,
Monro retreats[144]—for Staghead
Is raising his cabar on.
I own my expectation,—
'Tis this has roused my apathy,
That He who rules creation
May change the dismal hap of thee,
And hasten to restore thee
In safety from thy danger,
To thine own, in joy and glory,
To save us from the stranger.
With princely grace to give redress,
Nor a taunt to suffer back again;
The fell Monro has felt thy blow,
And should he dare attack again,
Then as he flew, he 'll run anew,
The flames to quench he 'll labour on,
Of castle fired—when Staghead
High raises his cabar on!
I 've seen thee o'er the lowly,
A gracious chieftain ever,
The CÁtach[145] self below thee,
And the Gallach[145] cower'd for cover;
But ever more their striving,
When claim'd respect thine eye,
Thy scourge corrected, driving
To other lands to fly.
Thy loyal crew of clansmen true,
No panic fear shall turn them,
With steel-cap, blade, and skene array'd,
Their banning foes they spurn them.
Clan-Shimei[146] then may dare them,
They 'll fly, had each a sabre on,
Needs but a look—when Staghead
Once raises his cabar on.
Mounts not the wing a fouler thing,
Than thy vaunted crest, the eagle,[147] O!
Inglorious chief! to boast the thief,
That forays with the beagle, O!
For shame! preferr'd that ravening bird![148]
My song shall raise the mountain-deer;
The prey he scorns, the carcase spurns,
He loves the cress, the fountain cheer.
His lodge is in the forest;—
While carion-flesh enticing
Thy greedy maw, thou buriest
Thou kite of prey! thy claws in
The putrid corse of famish'd horse,
The greedy hound a-striving
To rival thee in gluttony,
Both at the bowels riving.
Thou called the true bird![149]—Never,
Thou foster child of evil,[150] ha!
How ill match with thy feather[151]
The talons[152] of thy devilry!
But when thy foray preys on
Our harmless flocks, so dastardly,
How often has the shepherd
With trusty baton master'd thee;
Well in thy fright hast timed thy flight,
Else, not alone, belabouring,
He 'd gored thee with the Staghead,
Up-raising his cabar on.[153]
Woe worth the world, deceiver—
So false, so fair of seeming!
We 've seen the noble Siphort[154]
With all his war-notes[155] screaming;
When not a chief in Albain,
Mac-Ailein's[156] self though backing him,
Could face his frown—as Staghead
Arose with his cabar on.
To join thy might, when call'd the right,
A gallant army springing on,
Would rise, from Assint to the crags
Of Scalpa, rescue bringing on.
Each man upon, true-flinted gun,
Steel glaive, and trusty dagaichean;
With the Island Lord of SleitÈ,[157]
When up rose thy cabar on!
Came too the men of Muideart,[158]
While stream'd their flag its bravery;
Their gleaming weapons, blue-dyed,[159]
That havock'd on the cavalry.
Macalister,[160] Mackinnon,
With many a flashing trigger there,
The foemen rushing in on,
Resistless shew'd their vigour there.
May fortune free thee—may we see thee
Again in BrÀun,[161] the turreted,
Girt with thy clan! And not a man
But will get the scorn he merited.
Then wine will play, and usquebae
From flaggons, and from badalan,[162]
And pipers scream—when Staghead
High raises his cabar on.
END OF VOL. I.
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