Ode to the Lairds of Argyle

 

  

 

 

James the 6th bore Scotland’s scepter,
The Lairds of Argyle ruled themselves;
For the Eagle soars alone,
And ‘ere does he prevail

 

Twas winter,
In the Year of Our Lord 1603
The cold came,
Blood red cloaked that year;
Evil stepped forth center,
With Him marched cruel tears

 

Wretched, cruel the fate
That seized Fair Luss that season
For through her noble gates
Rode Gregor with his legions

 

Within The Glen of Sorrows
Valiant men fell slaughtered,
‘Neath ax, and bow, and sword
No mercy there was bartered

 

For Alistair, of Glenstrae
Clan MacGregor’s lawless Chief,
Deserved of Sword and Fire
Naught but murderous thief,
Assailed the realm once more
To grip the land in grief,
To slay, the Noble Laird of Luss

 

There with two divisions
Came Alistair in rage
A cutthroat fiendish mission
A jackal loosed from cage

 

Four hundred thanes he trust
Stole with him there for killing
Stained they the soil of Luss
Her noble blood there spilling

 

Black John within their ranks
Alistair’s cruel darkened brother
There hidden on the banks
To crush the Laird from cover

 

A division loomed ahead
Another stalked behind
And trapped between the twain
Rode Laird, and Kin, and Kind

 

Their women walked among them
Their babes upon their breast
Three hundred fifty valiant
The Host, Fair Luss’s Crest

 

Strong clamor of the Sword
Rang true the dirge of Death
Dancing ‘neath the sunlight
‘Til mustered final breath

 

Ore half their number fell
Slaughtered on the field
Ambushed by their neighbor
Crushed ‘neath kindred’s shield

 

His horse slain there beneath him
The Laird of Luss did fall
The mighty foe of Gregor
Arose, still standing tall

 

The prisoner’s found no mercy
Once snared in twisted fate
For wicked were their captors
And evil was their trait

 

To each one there came murder
Sent by Hell’s cruel wraith
Slaughtered there as captives
Adorned in Honor’s faith

 

Justice seized her moment
And strolled midst mighty thanes
The archer bold MacLintock
Strung bow and chose his aim;

 

And there by his true hand,
Black John was rightly slain

 

The Glen cleared then of battle
Alas! The carnage there!
The bloodbath claimed as chattel,
The Host of Luss, The Fair

 

The widows shroud their spears
In bloodied rags of loved ones fallen,
And mounted on white stallions
To Crown came vengeance callin’:

 

“Hear our words this day,
We’ll have our men avenged!
Behold their garments bloodied:
Grant to us revenge!”

 

The Lairds of Argyle swore their oath
And there they pledged their righteous names
To crush Clan Gregor’s throat
‘Neath mighty Sword and Flames

 

By King were they commissioned
With rote of Fire and Sword
To vanquish was their mission
And mighty was their hoard

 

A Widow’s tears inspire
Fair Justice lent Her cause
Before the Sword and Fire
MacGregor fled Her laws

 

The gallows loomed at last
For Chiefs of Clan MacGregor
Who preyed on whom they would
Both mighty, and the beggar

 

And there before the folk
The mighty Chieftains swung
A lesson on a rope
For fiends were that day hung

 

James the 6th bore Scotland’s scepter;
The Lairds of Argyle ruled themselves,
For the Eagle soars alone,
And ‘ere does he prevail

 

Many were his nestlings
Slain there, at Glen of Sorrows
But ere lives on their memory,
To soar through all tomorrows

 

©2005, Kathleen MacLintock

Note: “Ode to the Lairds of Argyle” is dedicated to those of Clan Colquhoun and Clan MacLintock ambushed and slain by Clan MacGregor at the Battle of Glen Fruin or ”Glen of Sorrows”, Scotland, in the year 1603. 

 

Art: “Cuchulainn, Chief Hero of the Ultonians”, Copyright 2008 Howard David Johnson