GLENCOE

(Site of the treacherous Scottish massacre in the 1690s)

High the hills rear

In horror grown tall

Shocked, silent now all.

And their silence shrieks:

“Cursed be the Campbells

Who did the foul act,

Damned be Dalrymple

Who plotted their pact.”

Cold the winds keen

Round rock-faces stone,

Bitter, mourners alone.

And the winds wail:

“Cursed be the Campbells

Who did the foul act,

Damned be Dalrymple

Who plotted their pact.”

Grey the rocks strewn

O’er valley green floor -

Headstones, now evermore.

And the rocks rumble:

“Cursed be the Campbells

Who did the foul act,

Damned be Dalrymple

Who plotted their pact.”

Fast the streams fall

Down mountain-sides steep

Weeping, sorrowing deep.

And their rivers rage:

“Cursed be the Campbells

Who did the foul act,

Damned be Dalrymple

Who plotted their pact.”

Now the hills clad

Their Springtime scene –

Hope, renewal green.

And soft mist murmurs:

“Forgiv’n be the Campbells

Who did that foul act,

And pardoned Dalrymple

Who plotted that pact.”

Blue the Loch calm

Clear mirrors the hills,

An awe the soul stills,

While summer breeze sings:

“The Highlands still honour

Those hospitable of heart

Those kindly of act:

Legend’s MacDonald part.”