See Stumah, who, the bier beside His master's corpse with wonder eyed, Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo Could send like lightning o'er the dew, Bristles his crest, and points his ears, As if some stranger step he hears.
'T is not a mourner's muffled tread, Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, But headlong haste or deadly fear Urge the precipitate career.
All stand aghast:--unheeding all, The henchman bursts into the hall;Before the dead man's bier he stood, Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood;'The muster-place is Lanrick mead;
Speed forth the signal! clansmen. speed!'
