Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,
570 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,note
Rushing, in conflagration strong,
Thy deep ravines and dells along,
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow,
And reddening the dark lakes below;
575 Nor faster speeds it, nor so far,
As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.
The signal roused to martial
COPYRIGHT(©) 2022
