Classic Poem

I have lately received tidings
that accord with my heart's desire,
that we may have the native costume
we wore in our earliest days;
since, with full glasses, we are
discussing delectable news,
here is the toast of Montrose
who claimed this right for us.

To-day I saw in Edinburgh
the festive company gathered;
O blessed letter that told us
the news that gave rise to our glee!
The bagpipe was skilfully tuned
in clear view on the smooth knoll,
we displayed our garb in public,
and who will call us rebels?

For thirty years and more
a tweed cassock enveloped our back;
we had a hat and a coat —
that style was foreign to us;
buckles were tying our shoes —
smarter we deemed the thong;
the obnoxious costume we wore
made carles of our comely youths.

It partly ruined our figure
from the sole to the top of our head;
we were so filled with depression
that every man became ill;
indeed, their plight was as dire
as ever arose in my time,
when the London clique deprived us
of all dignities and respect.

For a long time honour was lost,
while Lowlanders' mode clung to us;
a coat that reached to the heel —
it never looked handsome on us;
the breeches must needs be in vogue
when our authority grew so meek
that every clan was enslaved,
and every male left unclad.

We are now as we like to be,
and high at court is our friend,
who dressed the men in the style
of which the English Parliament robbed them.
Ever blessed be the Marquis
who pled our cause at this time;
he won back for us every right due,
by the King's and the crown's decree.

He secured for us sanction for arms
to serve us for hunting the peaks,
and defending our men in the field
by leaving their enemies crushed;
it would stir up the valour of clansmen
for the wielding of blades with zest —
pipe, with flag on staff, playing
the loud march that is dear to me.

We have now gained freedom that pleases
patriotic feelings all round —
sanction to don our garb
without asking the tortuous crew;
now we are dressed as is meet,
and the mode will delight our eye;
we have discarded the breeches,
and they will never emerge from recess.

We have assumed the suit
that is lightsome and fitting for us —
the belted kilt in its pleats,
and a waistcoat of vivid cloth;
a jacket of chequered homespun
in which crimson tints are massed;
hose that restrains not our step,
and falls short of the knee by a span.

The Gaels will hold up their heads
and they will be hemmed in no more;
those tight fetters have vanished
that made them languid and frail;
they will traverse the mountain moors
to hunt slim stags with their hound;
sprightly will they go dancing,
and react to the lilt of each tune.

We are obliged to the noble
who, by his firmness, won renown;
by resolute skill he has thrust
the folly of others aside;
heir of the chief of the Grahams,
with many strains of blue blood in his face,
this is the talented Marquis,
the son who will follow the Duke.