Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have
burst his bosom. It was not fear, it was not ardour--it was a
compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that with
its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and
maddened his mind. The sounds around him combined to exalt his
enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each
in its own dark column. As they advanced they mended their pace,
and the muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell
into a wild cry. At this moment, the sun, which was not risen
above the horizon, dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a
curtain, and showed the two armies in the act of closing. The
line of the regulars was formed directly fronting the attack of
the Highlanders; it glittered with the appointments of a complete
army, and was flanked by cavalry and artillery. But the sight
impressed no terror on the assailants.
"'Forward, sons of Ivor,' cried their chief, 'or the Camerons
will draw the first blood!' They rushed on with a tremendous
yell.
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