Analysis of The Burial March Of Dundee
William Edmondstoune Aytoun 1813 (Edinburgh) – 1865 (Lhanbryde)
Sound the fife, and cry the slogan-
Let the pibroch shake the air
With its wild triumphal music,
Worthy of the freight we bear.
Let the ancient hills of Scotland
Hear once more the battle-song
Swell within their glens and valleys
As the clansmen march along!
Never from the field of combat,
Never from the deadly fray,
Was a nobler trophy carried
Than we bring with us to-day;
Never, since the valiant Douglas
On his dauntless bosom bore
Good King Robert's heart-the priceless-
To our dear Redeemer's shore!
Lo! we bring with us the hero-
Lo! we bring the conquering Græme,
Crowned as best beseems a victor
From the altar of his fame;
Fresh and bleeding from the battle
Whence his spirit took its flight,
Midst the crashing charge of squadrons,
And the thunder of the fight!
Strike, I say, the notes of triumph,
As we march o'er moor and lea!
Is there any here will venture
To bewail our dead Dundee?
Let the widows of the traitors
Weep until their eyes are dim!
Wail ye may full well for Scotland-
Let none dare to mourn for him!
See! above his glorious body
Lies the royal banner's fold-
See! his valiant blood is mingled
With its crimson and its gold.
See! how calm he looks and stately,
Like a warrior on his shield,
Waiting till the flush of morning
Breaks along the battle-field!
See-Oh never more, my comrades!
Shall we see that falcon eye
Redden with its inward lightning,
As the hour of fight drew nigh;
Never shall we hear the voice that,
Clearer than the trumpet's call,
Bade us strike for King and Country,
Bade us win the field or fall!
On the heights of Killiecrankie
Yester-morn our army lay:
Slowly rose the mist in columns
From the river's broken way;
Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent,
And the pass was wrapped in gloom,
When the clansmen rose together
From their lair amidst the broom.
Then we belted on our tartans,
And our bonnets down we drew,
And we felt our broadswords' edges,
And we proved them to be true;
And we prayed the prayer of soldiers,
And we cried the gathering-cry,
And we clasped the hands of kinsmen,
And we swore to do or die!
Then our leader rode before us
On his war-horse black as night-
Well the Cameronian rebels
Knew that charger in the fight!-
And a cry of exultation
From the bearded warriors rose;
For we loved the house of Claver'se,
And we thought of good Montrose.
But he raised his hand for silence-
'Soldiers! I have sworn a vow:
Ere the evening-star shall glisten
On Schehallion's lofty brow,
Either we shall rest in triumph,
Or another of the Graemes
Shall have died in battle-harness
For his Country and King James!
Think upon the Royal Martyr-
Think of what his race endure-
Think on him whom butchers murder'd
On the field of Magus Muir:-
By his sacred blood I charge ye,
By the ruin'd hearth and shrine-
By the blighted hopes of Scotland,
By your injuries and mine-
Strike this day as if the anvil
Lay beneath your blows the while,
Be they Covenanting traitors,
Or the brood of false Argyle!
Strike! and drive the trembling rebels
Backwards o'er the stormy Forth;
Let them tell their pale Convention
How they fared within the North.
Let them tell that Highland honour
Is not to be bought nor sold,
That we scorn their Prince's anger,
As we loathe his foreign gold.
Strike! and when the fight is over,
If ye look in vain for me,
Where the dead are lying thickest,
Search for him that was Dundee!'
Loudly then the hills re-echoed
With our answer to his call,
But a deeper echo sounded
In the bosoms of us all.
For the lands of wide Breadalbane,
Not a man who heard him speak
Would that day have left the battle.
Burning eye and flushing cheek
Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,
And they harder drew their breath;
For their souls were strong within them,
Stronger than the grasp of death.
Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet
Sounding in the pass below,
And the distant tramp of horses,
And the voices of the foe:
Down we crouched amid the bracken,
Till the Lowland ranks drew near,
Panting like the hounds in summer,
When they scent the stately deer.
From the dark defile emerging,
Next we saw the squadrons come,
Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers
Marching to the tuck of drum;
Through the scattered wood of birches,
O'er the broken ground and heath,
Wound the long battalion slowly,
Till they gained the field beneath;
Then we bounded from our covert.-
Judge how looked
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10101010 101101 11101010 1010111 10101110 1110101 10111010 101101 10101110 1010101 10101010 1111111 10101010 111101 11101010 110111 11111010 111010011 1111010 1010111 10101010 1110111 10101110 0010101 11101110 11110101 11101110 1110101 10101010 1011111 11111110 1111111 101110010 1010101 11101110 1110011 11111010 10100111 10101110 1010101 1110111 1111101 10111010 10101111 10111011 101011 11111010 1110111 10111 1110101 10101010 1010101 1101010 0011101 1011010 1110101 11101101 0101111 01110110 0111111 01101110 01101001 0110111 0111111 110101011 1111111 10110 1110001 00111 10101001 1110111 011111 11111110 1011101 10101110 11101 10111010 1010101 11101010 1110011 10101010 1111101 11111010 101111 11101111 1010101 10101110 1110001 11111010 1011101 11110 101111 101010010 10100101 11111010 1110101 1111101 1111111 11111010 1111101 10101110 1110111 10111010 1111101 10101110 11010111 10101010 001111 101111 1011111 11111010 1010101 1011010 0110111 11101011 1010111 11101010 1000101 00101110 0010101 11101010 101111 10101010 1110101 1011010 1110101 110110 1010111 1010111 10010101 10101010 1110101 111011010 111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,197 |
Words | 784 |
Sentences | 35 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 104, 30 |
Lines Amount | 134 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,702 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 390 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:59 min read
- 64 Views
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"The Burial March Of Dundee" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40412/the-burial-march-of-dundee>.
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