The crystal clear water
rises in the farther wilds
of bare mountains
and pursues a serpentine
course
through the green, wooded
dale
on its way to the sea.
From past to eternity.
The marvellous
heard many a cry, heard many a shout,
echoed in a bare and rugged hill,
deadened by a moor and became still.
The marvellous
saw many a castle burning down.
Smoke rose to a dark clouded sky.
Many raids were made and went awry.
The marvellous
saw persecuted, massacred subjects.
Skirmishes, uprisings, clan versus clan.
Impossible to know who had begun.
In August the throne topping winning king
had offered all
pardon for their part in the revolt.
But the news came like a thunderbolt
‘cause it was conditional on their taking
an oath of allegiance to the new king
by the first of January next year.
So the
If they did not sign they were threatened with reprisals.
Would they have become colonials?
Clan chiefs sent word to the fallen king
to ask for his permission to take this oath.
The former king dithered over his decision,
he hoped to reclaim his throne, but in vain.
He permitted to make the oath.
Only Alastair Maclain was loath
to swear as promptly as the other chiefs did,
just in mid-December. That was acrid.
Alastair Maclain was the Chief
of Glencoe and came to grief.
He waited until the last day before setting out
to take the oath. Was he in doubt?
On December thirty-one Maclain
arrived at Inverlochy, but in vain.
He found that he should have gone instead to the south,
to Inveraray to take the oath.
He eventually got there five days late.
On arrival there he had to wait
for three days for the arrival of Sir Colin.
Returned, he reluctantly accepted the oath.
While Maclain was satisfied and thought
everything was right, some enemies fought
to say in the government that Maclain had missed
the deadline. He was not on the list
of the clans who had taken the oath
by the deadline and he was to be loathe.
The River Coe rises in the
eastern wilds
of wet Rannoch Moor,
runs through scattered
villages
and through the narrow
steep-sided glen
on its way into
This exit could easily be
blocked.
About a month later two companies,
one hundred and thirty men to appease,
moved to Glencoe to collect a tax.
No one was afraid of mean attacks.
The soldiers were billeted in Glencoe
and nobody spoke about any foe.
The MacDonalds’ hospitality
was natural activity.
The troops were commanded by Captain Robert Campbell,
a sixty year-old man who liked to gamble,
an alcoholic and bankrupt man,
related by marriage to old Maclain.
On February twelve orders came to him.
He spent the evening with Maclain. What a whim!
They played cards. Upon retiring
an invitation to dine with the Chief
the following day. There was no grief.
On the thirteenth of February at five
was the ordered time to connive.
The guests killed Maclain and further thirty-seven
unarmed MacDonalds. Forty kids and women
died of exposure, their homes were all burned.
I do not want to find any rhyme on massacre.
The crystal clear water
rises in the farther wilds
of bare mountains
and pursues a serpentine
course
through the green, wooded
dale
on its way to the sea,
evaporates and rains on
Rannoch Moor.
From past to eternity.