All in the Trossachs' glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whooped loud and high-- 490
"Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"
He stammered forth--"I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare."
He looked--he knew the raven's prey,
His own brave steed--"Ah! gallant gray! 495
For thee--for me, perchance--'twere well
We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.
Murdoch, move first--but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"
Jealous and sullen on they fared, 500
Each silent, each upon his guard.