Benledi saw the Cross of Fire;
It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire.
O'er dale and hill the summons flew,
455 Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew;
The tear that gathered in his eye
He left the mountain breeze to dry;
Until, where Teith's young waters roll
Betwixt him and a wooded knoll
460 That graced the sable strath wit
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