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.”