THE EMIGRANTS FAREWELL
by Alexander Stewart

The wind shipped the canvas. The tall-masted vessel strained
Sail to the west in it's voyage of sorrow.;
Fast faded Cantyree: the sad slight from the Highlands was
Bitter today and uncertain tomorrow,
Red gold on the ocean the sunset before them.
But the sea lanes in storms had no terrors for Dugald:
His eyes stung with tears for farewell to his home.
He stood in the stern with his gaze on the mountains
Dusk-dark in the distance, the peaks of Argyll:
Such peaks as looked down on his forefathers' dwelling
"O, land of my heart", were the words of his grieving
"Dammed by the tyrants, the faithless and grasping,
"They have driven us out like the mists of the morning
dispelled by the glare of the gathering day".
The deer and moorcock claim crofts long grown silent:
"The blood-ties that bound us, once stronger than iron,
corrupt Chiefs have broken, like Judas, for gain;
Fat sheep from the south graze the land that was our land:
Woe, wealth without honour, estates without men