Ballad III.

The Cameronians rejoice in the Discomfiture of the Godless at Drumclog.


Arise, ye slain saints, from the moor and the flood,1
Arise and rejoice in your garments of blood ;2
Mark Wilson, awaken, with harp and sweet strain,3
Thou Bard of the light whom stern Bonshaw has slain ;4
Rejoice where ye sleep, neath your covering of flowers,5
The scarf of brown heath and the shade of green bowers ;6
Gather round, lo ! and number your foes as they lie,7
With their face to the earth and their back to the sky.8


This morning they came with their brass trumpets braying;9
Their gold pennons flaunting, their war horses neighing ;10
They came and they found us—the brand and the spear11
Soon emptied their saddles and sobered their cheer ;12
They came and they sounded—their trumpet and drum13
Now give a mute silence, their shouters are dumb ;14
The chariot is smote, and the charioteer sleeping15
And death his dark watch o’er their captains is keeping,16


Oh ! who wrought this wonder ?— men ask me—this work17
Is not of man’s hand for the covenant kirk ;18
Few—few—were the saints ’neath their banners arraying,19
Weak, hungry, and faint, nor grown mighty in slaying20
And strong, fierce, and furious, and thirsting and fain21
Of our blood—as the dust of the summer for rain22
Came our foes—but the firm ground beneath their feet turned23
Into moss and quagmire—above their heads burned24
Heaven’s hot and swift fires—the sweet wind to-day.25
Had the power for to blast, and to smite, and to slay.26


Then laud not yourselves, nor put faith and firm trust27
In sharp steel and strong sinews, but stoop in the dust28
And humble your hearts—all your witnessing hands29
Hold in bloody sign up, you fulfilled His commands ;—30
Now arise ! see the ways cumbered with spoil,31
Lo ! gather—divide the reward of your toil;32
But leave these dumb Dagons to rot on the sward33
They defiled—then come, sing a new song of the Word.34