'Tis fifty years, and yet their fray

To us might seem but yesterday.

Tis fifty years, and three to boot,

Since, hand to hand, and foot to foot,

And heart to heart, and sword to sword,

One of our Ancestors was gored.

I've seen the sword that slew him;[584] he,

The slain, stood in a like degree

To thee, as he, the Slayer, stood

(Oh had it been but other blood!)

In kin and Chieftainship to me.

Thus came the Heritage to thee.