This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
A TRAGEDY
17

For which he stirs their ancient hatred up;
And all too well his dev'lish pains succeed.

ROSA.

Too well indeed! The very bed-rid crones

To whom my lady sends, with kindly care,
Her cheering cordials,—could'st thou have believed it?
Do mutter spells to fence from things unholy,
And grumble, in a hollow smother'd voice,
The name of Campbell, as unwillingly
They stretch their wither'd hands to take her bounty.
The wizards are in pay to rouse their fears
With dismal tales of future ills foreseen,
From Campbell and Maclean together join'd,
In hateful union.—Ev'n the very children,
Sporting the heath among, when they discover
A loathsome toad or adder on their path,
Crush it with stones, and, grinding wickedly
Their teeth, in puny spite, call it a Campbell.
Benlora too, that savage gloomy man—

MORTON.

Ay, evil is the day that brings him back.

Unjustly by a Campbell hath he been,
The peaceful treaty of the clans unheeded,
In thraldom kept; from which but now escaped,
He like a furious tyger is enchased,