THE STAG at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade; But, when the sun his beacon red 5 Had kindled on Benvoirlich’s head, The deep-mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 10 As Chief who hears his warder call, “To arms! the foemen storm the wall,”