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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartas, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmis i des taux da reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour 6tre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, an prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Las diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 The Harp of the Scottish Covenant " The Covenant times, Whose echo rings througli Scotland to tliis liour ! " — WORDSWOKTH. wmmtmi THE HARP OF THE SCOTTISH COVENANT POEMS, SONGS. AND BALLADS Relating to the Covenanting Struggle COLLECTED AND EDJTP.l) liV JOHN MACFARLANE Author of " Heather and Hakkhei-l " With a PREFACE by Prof. J. CLARK MURRAY, LL.D. Author ok "The Rallads and Songs of Scotland " > » • • ALEXANDER GARDNER iiJut)U»ftcr to l^er i«ai>»tp tt)e tliueeu rAISLEY; and PATERNOSTER SQUARl', LONDON MONTREAL: W. DRYSDALE .«t CO. 1895 wmmmm i^mamm^m V !\ n 1 ■"V 3 1 9 9 4 3 4 IPHPiiiWiliiMHIiM mmm To THE Memory of "^he late ^xoU&sov John §tuart Jackie, WHOSE PATRIOTISM, LOVE OF NATIVE SONG, AND FEARLESS CHAMPIONSHIP OF EVERY- THING THAT IS BEST IN THE SCOTTISH NATIONALITY, ENDEARED HIM TO THE HEARTS OF ALL TRUE-HEARTED SCOTSMEN ROTH AT HOME AND ABROAD. The Solemn League and Covenant Cost Scotland blood — cost Scotland tears : But it seal'd Freedom's sacred cause — If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneers ! — Robert Burns. "But I had a feeling of awe when writing 'The City of the Plague,' ' Unimore,' and more strongly when inditing a long MS. poem on the Covenanters, which, I believe, has run on to five thousand lines, but which will not see the light till I cease to see it. 'Indeed!' I said ; ' why not sooner ? ' 'The fact is,' he said, ' the feeling that pervades Scotland— its every hill and strath. High- lands as well as Lowlands — about that stalwart and noble race, is itself a perpetual poem, humming through the Scottish land and the Scottish heart ; and I should be afraid lest my effort should fall short of the national feeling. I once thought of writing a prose work, too, either in shape of a tale or of an history, on these brave men. Scott has not done them full justice in "Old Mortality," otherwise the masterpiece of his genius.' " — Professor John Wilson— see "The History of a Man," p. Il6. EDITOR'S NOTE. While no effort or research has been spared on the part of the Editor to make the present anthology of poetry relating to the Scottish Covenant as complete and representative as possible, compatible with a cer- tain standard of poetic quality, it is in the nature of such works that some notable omissions may have been made. It is permitted him to hope, however, that it contains, on the whole, the best of the lyrical bloom and poetic fervour of an emotion that has moved the heart of Lowland Scotland for more than two hundred years. On this account, if on no other, it may prove serviceable as a classification in the region of Scottish sentiment as well as in the field of Scottish song. In the collection of material for the undertaking, much correspondence was entailed, and to his numerous correspondents the Editor hereby expresses his grateful acknowledgment of their various courtesies. In this respect, the able assistance of Mr. Robert Hogg of Musselburgh calls for special mention, not only for the rich store of knowledge of native poetry which he so freely placed at disposal, but also for the willing help rendered in what may be termed the drudgery of tran- scription, etc. To Mr. Robert Reid (Rob. Wanlock) of Montreal, the Rev. Robert Logan, The Woodlands, Moffat, and Mr. Duncan MacGregor Crerar of New York, the thanks of the Editor are likewise due for much valuable counsel and aid generously bestowed during the prosecution of the work. _^ji^ I — — pwBiinnMmnin PREFACE. The struggle of the Scottish Covenanters has in it all the elements of a national epos. The cause, for which they fought and suffered, for which they lived and died, was epic in its grandeur. It was not merely national in the narrow sense. Like every object, for which nations have earned the world's gratitude and a con- spicuous niche in the world's history, the cause of the Scottish Covenant was the cause of humanity. The humanitarian interest, indeed, of the conflict was often obscured by the narrowness of local ideas and senti- ments. But that is not a defect peculiar to the Cove- nanters. The universal and eternal purposes of the Infinite Spirit who moulds the life of men can be but imperfectly grasped by any individual or by any nation ; and the Covenanters of Scotland could labour for the divine cause of human progress only under such forms as were possible amid the conditions of their country and their time. But it was really the cause of human progress for which they fought. Their cause was the right of men to develop their religious life under the free play of their own spiritual convictions ; and it is only under the condition of such freedom that any real progress in religious life is possible. On this ground, therefore, if on no other, the covenanting struggle claims the sympathetic interest of the world. But not on this ground alone. A cause may be great; and yet the men who represent it may fail to rise to Preface. i: ■. . the greatness of their mission. Eut in this light also the Covenanters of Scotland may fairly claim the grate- ful memory of men. It would be difficulf. to point to any great struggle, in which men have exhibited a more passionate enthusiasm for their cause, or a more com- plete emancipation from all selfish seductions which might have obscured the singleness of their aim or cooled the ardour of their devotion. I ] fact the intense earnestness of the Covenanters has given a colour to the subsequent religious life of Scotland. It has created an almost morbid craving for a similar intensity of I3r- vour amid the calm routine of peaceful times. In a great crisis, when a nation's cause is the cause of humanity, moderation is more akin to vice than to virtue. For moderation is not only opposed to vicious excess ; it may imply a lack of that heroic enthusiasm which a great moral crisio demands. It was the con- sciousness of this fact during the covenanting struggle, that has ever since made the term moderate a bye-word of reproach in Scotland wlien applied to religious char- acter. It appears, then, that both the cause for which they fought and the heroic courage with which they fought for it, have made the struggle of the Covojnanters a genuine epos in Scottish history. It is not wonderful, therefore, that the /aried scenes of such a struggle, with the thoughts and sentiments which they suggest, should have found expression in song. It has, indeed, been too commonly assumed that all the lyrical fervour evoked by the conflict, was on the opposite side. This is a mistake. The Jacobite songs, which might be sup- posed to come from the opponents of the Covenant, belong to a conflict that was not only later, bufc of a Jiiv.'jKmaiM^t Frejaci'. XI. totally different interest. The truth is, that neither the Jacobite nor the Covenanting struggle called forth many lyrics of genuine poetical merit, while the com- batants were grappling for life and death with one another. Most of the finest poems connected with both of the struggles are the products of later reflectioi by poetic minds. It cannot be denied that the Jacobite struggle in- volved some issues ihat were calculated to strike the fancy and the sentiment of men. But the fancy and sentiment were of limited range. They were mainlj' those sympathetic movements of the mind, which are stirred by the tragedy of an old royal house fighting a hopeless battle to regain its lost place among the dynas- ties of the world. But natural pity over such a tragedy is traversed and often checked by the knowledge that the doomed family had brought its fate upon itself as a righteous retribution for its crimes against the cause of humanity. On the other hand, the Covenanting struggle, with all its imperfections, offers a theme of universal and undying interest to the world. Some years ago, in lererring to the Jacobite songs, I was led to write, that " louder ir the ear of the Scottish people than fFae's me for Prince Charlie, is the wail over the martyrs of the Covenant : and tales of the heroism these displayed amid their sufferings are cherished in the memory and told with enthusiasm, when the name of the Chevalier is never mentioned, except in singing Jacobite songs for the enjoymen*, of their poetry and music." When I wrote these words, I was not aware f the extent to which enthusiastic memories of che Covenanting struggle had found expression in Scottish poetry. The Editor of this volume has proved that I f 11 Xll. Preface. there is a Harp of the Covenant, which can strike a genuine poetic tone ; and Scotsmen, all the world over, must feel indebted to him for having done such a labour of love, and for having done it so well. J. Clark Murray. i CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction to the "Lays of the Kirk and Covenant," Mrs. Harriet Stuart Menteath, 9 The Sabbath, James Grahame, 17 The Cameronian'3 Dream, James Hislop; 21 The Battle of Drumliemoor,..../^6er< Bwhanan, 25 Kirkbride, Hohert Reid, 31 The Covenanter's Lament, Robert Allan, 35 TheJDeclaration of Sanquhar, W. Stewart Ross, 37 The Covenant Sangs, George Paulin, 42 The Downfall of Dalzell, Allan Cunninnham,..., 44 Andrew Hislop, John Veitch, LL.D., 48 The Covenanter's Night Hymn, David Macbeth Moir, 51 Tke Battle of Drumclog, A lexander G. Murdoch, 56 Sonnet Robert Hogn, 66 The Death of Archibald, First Marquis of Argyle, James Dodds 67 Mistress Elizabeth Welch, Jeanie Morison, 72 Lines on an Old Communion C\n^,.. Alexander Anderson,... 78 Elegy on the Death of James Renwick, John Stuart Blackie, 82 The Song of Jenny Geddes John Stitart Blackie, 86 The Martyrs of Wigton, Mrs. Harriet Stuart Menteath, 90 Cameron's Grave in Airsmoss, Robert Reid, Ill "Bothwell Brig," Jaiiet Hamilton, 112 The Pentland Hills, Baroness Nairne, 1 16 A Dream of the Times of the Covenant,... Walter Chisholm, 119 Brown of Priesthill, Henry Inylis of Torsonce, ... 1 22 Covington Mill, Rev. James Prottd/oot, 126 Andrew Gullane's Stane, Tlioyoaa C. Latto, 129 Scotland, David Lindsay, 138 Covenanters' Hymn, David Vedder, 139 Martyr-Land, Thomas Prinyle 140 XIV. Contents I PAQS A Lay of the Martyrs, James Horjii, J43 On Mark Wilson, Slain in Irongray,... ^?/a/i Cunningham, 154 The Death of James Guthrie, . . .Jamen DodcU, 157 Peden "The Prophet's" Grave, A. B. Todd, 164 RuUion Green, Henry Scott Riddell, 167 The Nithsdale Martyrs, William M 'Dowall, 171 The Martyr's Grave, HiKjlt Broion 176 Holy Ground, /. Lauchlan MacLean Watt, M.A,, 179 The Battle-field of Drumclog,....9rt?-rt/i Parker Doittjla-s, 182 The Song of the Prisoners, George Paulin, 188 Peden at the Grave of Cameron, Mrs. Harriet Stuart Menteath, 191 The Covenanters' Battle Chant, William Motherwell, 197 The Battle of Bothwell Brig,... Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scot- tish Border, 200 Cargill taken Prisoner at Cov- ington Mill, Jaraes Dodds, 203 Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, Allan Cunningham, 207 Our Fathers— Where are They ? William M 'Comb, 209 The Covenanter's Hymn, William Allan, 21 1 The Martyr's Grave, John MacFarlane, 213 The Deathbed of Rutherford, Mrs. Harriet Stuart Menteath, 215 The Martyrs of Scotland, Rev. Dr. Horatius Bonar,... 219 Covenant Times, Hugh C. Wilfon, 221 The Land of the Martyrs, Rev. James G. Small, 227 The Martyr's Prophecy, Marion Paul A ird, 232 The Martyrdom of John lirown, Hugh Brown, 234 Peden's Prayer, Uev. William Wye Smith, . . . 238 Patrick Laing, A lexander A nderson, 240 Peden's Grave, John Veitch, LL.JJ., 242 The Covenanter's Lament, John Stuart Blackie, 245 Bothwell Brig, James Hogg, 247 The Persecuted Peesweep, Thomas C. Latto, 255 The Martyrs' Graves, Marion Paul Aird, 25() John Frazer, John Stuart Blackie, 259 Ballad of the New Monkland M&ttyr,... Janet Hamiltun, ... 2G2 The Martyrs' Widows Robert Allan, 268 „„JHBLMB BWWp HWia Content f>. XV. PAGE Martyrland, John Strutlwrs, 270 A Ballad of the Covenant, John MacFar/ane, . ... 273 The Signing of the Solemn League and Covenant, Thomas C. Latto, 276 The Covenanter's Clover, Anna Knox, , 277 Lament of the Covenanter's Widow, ...i?aro?if.s,s Nalrne, ... 280 The Covenanters, George Paiilin,.. 281 The Mountain Sanctuary, David Vedder, 284 The Banner of tlie Covenant, . . . R<'v. James Murraij, 287 The Black Saturday, Rev. James Murraij 290 John Brown of Priesthill's Wife, . . .Jianie Morhon, 295 Bothwell Brig A fexander G. Murdoch, 298 The Cry of the Hillmen, Robert Kekl, 300 The Midnight Revel of Mugdock, . ..JIwili Mac Donald ;S02 Hallowed Ground, George Panlin, 306 The Covenant Banner, An Ayrshire Elder, 308 The Covenanter's Widow, William Cross, 310 Covenant Memories, Robert Hogg, 317 Hack.ston of Rathillet, Henry Inglis, 319 Watching in Vain, A. Wanless, 327 The Covenanters' Communion, George Donald, 3'29 Song of a Covenanter, George Donald, 334 A Cry from Samoa, Robert Louis Stevenson 337 Note, 339 ■i Wl i WWW II W* ' '" !! ' !' wmm mmm INTRODUCTORY. (From Introduction to "Lays of the Kirk and Covenant") Mrs. Harriet Stuart Menteatii. " Till doomsday shall come, they shall never see the Kirk of Scotland and our Covenant burnt to ashes ; or, if it should be thrown in the fire, yet it cannot be so burnt or buried as not to have a resurrection." — Samuel Kutherford. Scotland ! hallowed in thy story— Who would trace thine annals right — One peculiar page of glory, Ever brightens on his sight ! Not the honours, far descended, Of thine ancient hero kings ; Not thy bulwarks, blood defended — These are but thy meaner things ! True, the pulse exulting flutters ; True, our souls within us burn, Trumpet names as Freedom utters, Wallace, Bruce, and Bannockburn ! But a holier joy subdues us, Tracing, while our heartstrings thrill, 1< 10 Introductory. How the Saviour deigned to choose us, In his cause to suffer still ! Honoured be the patriot story ! Well may Scottish hearts beat high ; Yet a far-excelling glory Glads the heaven-anointed eye — Heritage, unbought, unpriced, Eich in the reproach of Christ ! Early — early, on our mountains, Presage of a glorious day. Pure, as from its native fountains, Faintly broke the Gospel ray. Storm and cloud the pathway covers, By our rude forefathers trod ; Yet that dawning brightness hovers Where St. Columb walked with God : Ever broadening, ever welling. From lona's holy home Poured the radiance, sin-dispelling. Till it met the fogs of Kome ! Dark eclipse the earth then shrouded ; Lurid phantasms filled the air ; But the glorious sun, though clouded. Shorn, and beamless, still was there ! Witness, many a faint forewarning. Struggling through the night of crime ; -r-irrniiir-iiiiBli, m Introductory. Prescient of a second dawning Of the Gospel's noonday prime. Streaks, that like the northern light, Shoot in promise up the night ! Lo ! it comes ! the mist hath risen — Martyr pyres the gloom dispel ; Scotland wakes, and bursts her prison, Lighted by the flames of hell ! Rome hath wrought her own undoing ; Rome infatuate ! Rome accurst ! All her fabric, one vast ruin, Crumbles 'neath the thunderburst ! Fierce the strife, and fierce the slaughter ; Blood her rubbish moistens o'er. Even till error's loveliest daughter Falls upon a hostile shore ! Poor forfeit to the fatal band. Once lightly sealed with careless hand ! Twice crowned Queen — thrice wedded wife- More regal in her death than life ! 11 Now the infant Church hath quiet ; Surely now her toils may cease ! O'er the wild waves' rout and riot Broods the halcyon wing of peace ! Rome hath wrought her own undoing ! Papal fires no longer blaze ! 12 Introductory. i i; ri' Ah ! but forth the mighty ruin, What new portents mar our gaze ! Sin, the fiend ! is hydra-headed — Far the Church's promised rest ; Avarice, with ambition wedded, Points new weapons at her breast ! Brief her Murray's true upholding — Nor tears nor prayers protract its span And the helm falls from his holding Who never feared the face of man ! * While myriad mischiefs swarming spring. From minions of a minion King ! Ah ! the eye is sick with seeing ; Ah ! the heart is faint with fear. Clouds athwart the horizon fleeing, Harbingers of tempest near ! God hath laid to sleep His chosen ; Who the mighty shall withstand ? And the tide oi faith seems frozen In the winter of the land ! For a space it darkens, darkens, Hope and promise in the tomb ! But the Lord looks down, and hearkens Sobs of prayer amid the gloom ! * John Knox. !IL SHumm Introductory. *• Nay, my people — not forsaken, Though afflicted sore thou art. Of my strength thy hold is taken ; Thy fresh springs are in my heart ! From the deep vault of the prison ; From the lone isle of the sea ; From thy banished ones hath risen An accepted voice to Me ! 13 Chosen in affliction's waters, Chosen 'neath the oppressor's rod, I have sealed thy sons and daughters In a covenant with God ! Pass thou on, a sign and wonder. As my nation was of yore ; In the secret place of thunder I have laid thy help in store ! Quit thy hold of earthly favour ; Touch not the accursed thing ! Monarchs must abhor thy savour While they set at naught thy King ! Part not — halve not thine allegiance, Till I come to claim mine own ; In the woe of thine obedience Bear my Cross and guard my Crown, All its thorns in thy true sight, Transfigured into beams of light ! " 14 Introductory. Thus, a witness to the Churches, Scotland's Church hath ever been — Carnal men, with vain researches. Musing what the sign may mean ! Like her Master, poor and lowly, Seeking naught of price below, All she claims, with freedom holy, Still about His work to go ; Coveting nor wealth nor station ; Terrible to naught but sin ; Mean in outward estimation. She is glorious within ! Traeo her unmolested going — Csesar finds observance maet ; Living waters round her flowing. Oh, how beautiful her feet ! Hope, o'er those broad waters gliding, Fast pursues the waning night, And the home of her abiding. Gathers still and radiates light ! Strange ! that in her pathway ever Strifes and oppositions spring ; Nay ! she sows beside the river, And her shout is of a King ! Since from Herod's couch the slumber Parted at the wise men's word, Kings and rulers without number mm Introductory. Band themselves against the Lord ! Tolls a death-knell through their riot ; Shakes a terror 'neath their scorn ; And they seek, with vain disquiet, For the Babe in Bethlehem born ! Hating still, in deadliest measure. Who that rising sceptre own ; Marring all their pomp and pleasure With the shadow of a throne ! True ! they kneel with feigned behaviour. Myrrh and frankincense will bring ; Priest and Prophet own the Saviour, But — they crucify the King ! Wouldst thou hail an earthly Master, Then the world would love its own ! Grasp thy banner- truth the faster — See that no man take thy crown ! 1* Hope thou not, then, earth's alliance ; Take thy stand beside the Cross ; Fear, lest by unblest compliance. Thou transmute thy gold tc dross ! Steadfast in thy meek endurance. Prophesy in sackcloth on — Hast thou not the pledged assurance. Kings one day shall kiss the Son ? Oft thy foes may triumph o'er thee ; Tread thy carcass in the street ; 16 Introduct(yry. Smg aloud the liate they bore thee — Thou shalt stand upon thy feet ! Life through all thy veins returning, Id the sight of those who doomed- And the Bush, for ever burning, Never — never — be consumed ! t^ Now unto the hill- tops get thee Whence the sunrise we descry ; Nightly on thy watch tower set thee, For His coming draweth nigh ! Tell the nations of the glory Through the blackness we discern ; Sound a trumpet with the story Of the King who shall return ! Call to Judah in her blindness ; Bid benighted Israel hear ; Drop the word of truth and kindnesci On the heathen's palsied ear ! Trim thy lamp — the night-hours cheering ; Wash thy robes from every stain ; Watch, to hail the glad appearing Of the Bridegroom and His train ! Haste ! thy coming Lord to greet ! Cast thy crown before His feet ! Only, may his quest for thee Find ihee — what He made thee — Free ! 17 THE SABBATH (Extract.) James Grahame. How still the morning of the hallowed day ! Mute is the voice of rural labour, hushed The ploughboy's whistle, and the mflkmaid's song. The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers, Thai, yester-morn bloomed waving in the breeze : Sounds the most faint attract the ear — the hum Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, The distant bleating, midway up the hill. Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud. To him who wa. ders o'er the upland leas. The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale ; And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark "Warbles his heaven-tuned song ; the lulling brook Murmurs more gently down the deep-worn gleu ; While from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke O'ermounts the mist, is heard, at intervals, The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. I I' l] tr «! 18 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Oh blissful day ! When all men worship God as conscience wills. Far other times our fathers' grandsires knew, A virtuous race, to godliness devote. What though the sceptic's scorn hath dared to noil The record of their fame ! What though the men Of worldly minds have dared to stigmatize The sister-cause, Religion and the Law, With Superstition's name ! Yet, yet their deeds, Their constancy in torture and in death, — These on tradition's tongue still live, these shall On history's honest page be pictured bright' To latest tiroes I'S With them each day waa holy, every hour They stood prepared to die, a people doomed To death : — old men, and youths, and simple maids. With them each day was holy ; but that morn On which the angel said, See where the Lord Was laid, joyous arose ; to die that day Was bliss. Long ere the dawn, by devious ways, O'er hills, thro' woods, o'er dreary wastes, they sought The upland moors, where rivers, there but brooks, Dispart to different seas : fast by such brooks, A little glen is sometimes scooped, a plat With green sward gay, and flowers that strangers seem Amid the heathery wild, that all around Fatigues the eye : in solitudes like these The Sabbath. 19 Thy persecuted children, Scotia, foiled A tyrant's and a bigot's bloody laws : There, leaning on his spear, (one of the array. Whose gleam, in former days, had scathed the rose On England's banner, and hai powerless struck The infatuate monarch and his wavering host.) The lyart veteran heard the word of God By Cameron thundered, or by Renwick poured In gentle stream : then rose the song, the loud Acclaim of praise ; the wheeling plover ceased Her plaint ; the solitary place was glad, And on the distant cairns, the watcher's ear * Caughc doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note. But years more gloomy followed ; and no more The assembled people dared, in face of day, To worship God, or even at the dead Of night, save when the wintry st;orm raved fierce, And thunder-peals compelled the men of blood To couch within their dens ; then dauntlessly The scattered few would meet, in some deep dell By rocks o'er-canopied, to hear the voice. Their faithful pastor's voice : he by the gleam Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book, And words of comfort spake : over their souls His accents soothing came, — as to her young * Sentinels were placed on the surrounding hills, to give warning of the approach of the military, T I ' 20 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. The heathfowl's plumes, when, at the close of eve, She gathers in, mournful, her brood dispersed By murderous sport, and o'er the remnant spreads Fondly her wings ; close nestling 'neath her breast, They, cherished, cower amid the purple blooms. I < 21 THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM James Hislop. "One day in a far-off glen among the heather, James Hislop laid down his head to rest on a Covenanter's grave, and became inspired."— Rev. George Gilfillan. In a dream of the night, I was wafted away To the muirlands of mist where the martyrs lay ; Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green. 'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, When the minister's home was the mountain and wood. When in Wellwood's dark moorlands the standard of Zion, All bloody and torn, 'mong the heather was lying. 'Twas morning, and summer's young sun, from the east, Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's breast ; On Wardlaw and Cairntable, the clear shining dew Glisten'd sheen 'mong the heath-bells and mountain- flowers blue. — - - '■i ti ''»'i w »W»' ^ '!ri'-r^,«^;si| ^ t ? . ^ a B i a;a >. H 99 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. And far up in heaven, in the white sunny cloud, The song of the lark was melodious and loud ; And in Glenmuir's wild solitudes, lengthen'd and deep. Were the whistling of plovers, and the bleating of sheep. i! !i* ; And Wellwood's sweet valley breathed music and glad- ness. The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness ; Its daugh*:ers were happy to hail the returning, And drink the delights of green July's bright morning. But ah! there were hearts cherish'd far other feelings — Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings — And drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow. For they knew that their blood would bedew it to- morrow. 'Twas the few faithful ones who, with Cameron, were lying Conceal'd 'mong the mist where the heath-fowl were crying ; For the horsemen of Earl's-hall around them were havering. And their bridle-reins rung through the thin misty covering. The Cameronian's Dream. 23 Tho' their faces grew pale, and their swords were un- sheath'd, Yet the vengeance that darken'd their brows was un- breathed ; AVith eyes raised to heaven, in meek resignation, They sung their last song to the God of salvation. The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing, The curlew and plover in concert were singing ; But the melody died 'midst derision and laughter, As the hosts of ungodly rush'd on to the slaughter. Though in mist, and in darkness, and fire they were shrouded. Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded ; Their dark eyes flash'd lightning, as proud and un- bending They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending. The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming. The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming, The heavens grew black, and the thunder was rolling, As in Wellwood's dark moorlands the mighty were falling. 'M •-^rm '\ % n ^ i f*" i HI Wi l> ll*WIM .' H> .« rw^mf II' . f; ftf 24 Harp of the Scottish Covenant . When the righteous had fallen, and the combat had ended, A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended : The drivers were angels on horses of whiteness, And its burning wheels turn'd upon axles of brightness. A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining, And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation. Have mounted the chariot and steeds of salvation. On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding ; Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding ; Glide swiftly, bright spirits ! the prize is before ye — A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory ! ."^i 25 THE BATTLE OF DRUMLIEMOOR, Robert Buchanan. Bar the door ! put out the light, for it gleams across the night, And guides the bloody motion of their feet ; Hush the bairn upon thy breast, lest it guide them in their quest, And with water quench the blazing of the peat. Now, wife, sit still and hark ! — hold my hand amid the dark; Jeanie, we are scatter'd — e'en as sleet ! It was down on D'-nmliemoor, where it slopes upon the shore, And looks upon the braaking of the bay, In the kirkyard of the dead, where the heather is thrice red With the blood of those asleep beneath the clay ; And the Howiesons were there, and the people of Glen Ayr, And we gather'd in the gloom o' night — to pray. ii i I f. n I i 2G Harp of the Scottish Covenant. How ! Sit at home in fear, when God's voice was in mine ear, When the priests of Baal were slaughtering His sheep? Nay ! there I took my stand, with my reap-hook in my hand. For bloody was the sheaf that I might reap ; And the Lord was in His skies, with a thousand dread- ful eyes, And His breathing made a trouble on the deep. Bi Each mortal of the band brought his weapon in his hand, Though the chopper or the spit was all he bare ; And not a man but knew the work he had to do. If the fiend should fall upon us unaware. And our looks were ghastly white, but it was not with affright, — The Lord our God was present to our prayer. Oh, solemn, sad, and slow, rose the stern voice of Mon- roe, And he curst the curse of Babylon the Whore ; We could not see his face, but a gleam was in its place, Like the phosphor of the foam upon the shore ; And the eyes of all were dim as they fixed themselves on him. And the sea filled up the pauses with its roar. M'- f j. 4 The Battle of Drumliemoor. 27 e was in is sheep? Dk in my id dread- eep. 1 his hand, bare ; do, ,s not with yer. ice of Mon- hore ; in its place, shore j 1 themselves roar. 4 But when, with accents calm, Kilmahoe gave out the psalm, The sweetness of God's voice upon his tongue, With one voice we praised the Lord of the fire and of the sword. And louder than the winter wind it rung ; And across the stars on high went the smoke of tempest by, And a vapour roll'd around us as we sung. 'Twas terrible to hear our cry rise deep and clear. Though we could not see the criers of the cry, But we sang and gript our brands, and touch'd each other's hands, While a thin sleet smote our faces from the sky ; And, sudden, strange, and low, hiss'd the voice of Kilmahoe, " Grip your weapons ! "Wait in silence ! They are nigh ! " And hark'ning, with clench'd teeth, we could hear, across the heath. The tramping of the horses as they flew, And no man breath'd a breath, but all were still as death. And close together shivering we drew ; And deeper round us fell all the eyeless gloom of hell, And — the fiend was in among us ere we knew ! S^aS^^^^^^wH lil ;i ]( ■■> 5 ■ ,f 1 28 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Then our battle shriek arose, 'mid the cursing of our foes — No face of friend or foeman could we mark ; But I struck and kept my stand (trusting God to guide my hand), And struck, and struck, and heard the hell-hounds bark ; And I fell beneath a horse, but I reached with all my force, And ript him with my reap-hook through the dark. As we struggl'd, knowing not whose hand was at our throat. Whose blood was spouting Trarji into our eyes, We felt the thick snow- drift sweep upon us from the lift. And murmur in the pauses of our cries ; But, lo ! before we wist, rose the curtain of the mist. And the pale moon shed her sorrow from the skies. Oh, God ! it was a sight that made the hair turn white, That wither'd up the heart's blood into woe. To see the faces loom in the dimly lighted gloom, And the butcher'd lying bloodily below ; While melting, with no sound, fell so peacefully around The whiteness and the wonder of the snow ! 'S.I The Battle of Drumliemoor. 2& Ay, and thicker, thicker, pour'd the pale silence of the Lord, From the hollow of His hand we saw it shed, And it gather'd round us there, till we groan'd and gasp'd for air. And beneath was ankle-deep and stained red ; And soon, whatever wight was smitten down in fight, Was buried in the drift ere he was dead ! Then we beheld at length the troopers in their strength. For faster, faster, faster up they stream'd. And their pistols flashing bright, show'd their faces ashen white. And their blue steel caught the driving moon, and gleam'd ; But a dying voice cried, " Fly ! " And behold, e'en at the cry, A panic fell upon us and we scream'd ! Ob, shrill and awful rose, 'mid the splashing blood and blows. Our scream unto the Lord that let us die ; And the fiend amid us roared his defiance at the Lord, And his servants slew the strong man 'mid his cry ; And the Lord kept still in heaven, and the only answer given Was the white snow falling, falling, from the sky. «)«J**»!i.*aM»>-^^*";-.^ ;:% :»*^tf'^'%g»«»P |gW ff» y '^ « ^ '-^'■i^^'swc'if^ i^^vi ' ^^ f^rr^m^smm^^^ 30 Harp of the. Scottish Covenant, Then we fled ! the darkness grew ! 'mid the driving cold we flew Each alone, yea, each for those whom he held dear ; And I heard upon the wind the thud of hoofs behind, And the scream of those who perish'd in their fear ; But I knew by heart each path through the darkness of the strath. And I hid myself all day, — and I am here ! Ah ! gathered in one folc* be the holy men and bold. And beside them the accursed and the proud ; The Howiesons are there, and the Wylies of Glen Ayr, Kirkpatrick, and Macdonald, and Macleod. And ;hile the widow groans, lo ! God's hand around their bones His tLin ice windeth -vhitely, as a shroud. On mountain and in vale our women will look pale, And palest where the ocean surges boom ; Buried 'neath snow-drift white, with no holy prayer or rite, Lie the loved ones they look for in the gloom ; And deeper, deeper still spreads the snow on vale and hill. And deeper and yet deeper is their tomb ! ,'i '■ M I ■ '1'. wm 31 KIRKBRIDE.* Robert Reid. m Bury me in Kirkbride, Where the Lord's redeemed anes lie ; The auld kirkyaird on the grey hillside, Under the open sky ; Under the open sky, On the breist o' the braes sae steep, And side by side wi' the banes that lie Streikt there in their hinmaist sleep : This puir dune body maun sune be dust, But it thrills wi' a stoun' o' pride, To ken it may mix wi' the great and just That slumber in thee, Kirkbride. Little o' peace or rest Had we, that hae aften stude Wi' oor face to the foe on tbe mountain's crest, * It is related of an old Covenanter who had survived the persecution that the last request he made while on his deathbed was, "Bury me in Kirkbride, for there's much of God's redeemed dust lies there." It is ou these words that thia beautiful poem is founded. flip**''' i But gloamin' fa's at last On the dour, dreich, dinsome day. And the trouble through whiU. we hae safely past Has left us weary and wae ; Has left us weary and wae. And fain to be laid, limb-free. In a dreamless dwawm to be airtit awa' To the shores o' the crystal sea : Far frae the toil, and the moil, and the murk, And the tyrant's cursM pride, Row'd in a wreath o' the mists that lurk, Heavensent, aboot auld Kirkbride. Wheesht ! did the saft win' speak ? Or a yaumerin' nicht bird cry ? Did I dream that a warm haun' touch't my cheek, And a winsome face gade by ? And a winsome face gade by. ■^ ^^^m^ Kirkbridc. Wi' a far-aS licht in its een, A licht that bude come f rae the dazzlin' sky, For it spak' o' the starnies' sheen : Age may be donart, and dazed and blin', But I'se warrant, whate'er betide, A true heart there made tryst wi' my ain, And the tryst-word seemed, Kirkbride. Hark ! frae the far hill-taps. And laich frae the lanesome glen, Some sweet psalm tune like a late dew draps Its wild notes doun the win' ; Its wild notes doun the win' Wi' a kent soun' owre my min', For we sang't on the muir, a wheen huntit men, \\Y cor lives in oor haun' langsyne ; Biv ' over a voice can disturb this sang, Wci V it Claver'se in a' his pride, For it's raised by the Lord's ain ransom'd thrang Forgether'd abune Kirkbride. 33 k, I hear May Moril's tongue. That 1 wistna to hear again. And there— 'twas the black McMichael's rung Clear in the closin' strain ; Clear in the closin' strain, Frae his big heart, bauld and true : It stirs my saul as in days bygane. Harp of the Scottish Covenant. When his gude braidsword he drew : I needs maun be aflf to the muirs ance mair, For he'll miss me by his side : I' the thrang o' the battle I aye was there, And sae maun it be in Kirkbride. Rax me a staff and plaid, That in readiness I may be, And dinna forget that The Book be laid Open, across my knee ; Open, across my knee, And a text close by my thoom. And tell me true, for I scarce can see, That the words are, '* Lo ! I come ; " Then carry me through at the Cample ford. And up by the lang hillside, And I'll wait for the comin' o' God, the Lord, In a neuk o' the auld Kirkbride ! 35 THE COVENANTER'S LAMENT Robert Allan. There's nae Covenant now, lassie ! There's nae Covenant now ! The Solemn League and Covenant Are a' brokf a through ! There's nae Renwick now, lassie, There's nae gude Cargill, Nor holy Sabbath preaching Upon the Martyrs' Hill ! It's naething but a sword, lassie ! A bluidy, bluidy ane ! Waving owre poor Scotland, For her rebellious sin. Scotland's a' wrang, lassie, Scotland's a' wrang — It's neither to the hill nor glen, Lassie, we daur gang. The Martyr's Hill's forsaken In simmer's dusk sae calm ; There's nae gathering now, lassie, To sing the e'ening psalm ! ^K H 1 11 I 1 r 11 if iii pi 1 '^K H l|B: m m B 1 If , 1 M 1^ ' A' \ %l: i\x'' ■ ; li'' « ly 1 K( I iiBi :■ 1 ^ -'i 1 K|l 1 ¥ K f 1 Ml l&H|» 1 1 36 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. But the martyr's grave will rise, lassie, Aboon the warrior's cairn ; An' the martyr soun' will sleep, lassie, Aneath the waving fern ! i'n 37 THE DECLARATION OF SANQUHAR. (June 22, 1680.) W. Stewart Ross. Ye wha revere the ashes 0' your country's martyr-fires, And ye wha's guid auld Scottish bluid Is worthy o' your sires, Come and listen to a lay 0' the Banner o' the Blue, And what the men o' Scotland Did langsyne daur and do ; How they fearless to the torture And to the scaffold trod, And broke the tyranny o' kings Against the targe o' God, When cruel Dalzell, and Grier o' Lag, And bluidy Claver'se slew. Till ilka blade o' Scottish grass Kep'd bluid instead o' dew. The craftsman waxed heroic, And the peasant grew sublime. ii a ' 38 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. To confront the rack and dungeon 0' the dreary " killin' time : " They perished on the misty hills O' rugged Galloway, Their life-bluid dyed the wimplin' burns 0' Urr and Irongray, The auld stane brig o' Bothwell Was cumbered wi' their dead, And the breckans became purple, And the heather darker reid : The fire, the sword, the roarin' wave, The scaffold, gaunt and high, Had seen the martyr thousands 0' the wale o' Scotland die ; Nae siller linin' to the clud, Nae whusper in the air. To say that up in heaven abune The airm o' God was bare. God's witnesses in dungeon lay, God's puir folk wandered lone. Falsehood sat in the council chair, And baseness on the throne. Frae lairs amang the breckans hid, Frae slaves on burnin' lands, Frae whaur guilt-tortured womanhood Shrieked frae the Bladnoch ^^ands ; The Declaration of Sanquhar. Sd' Frae whaur on thy reid " sands," Dumfries, The life-bluid ebbit slow, Frae whaur the psalms o' Zion thrilled The wilds o' Kirkmahoe ; Frae whaur pale Daith yaukt owre Drumclog, Frae Pentland, cauld and still, AVhaur bluidy spears and Bible leaves Lay on the lonely hill, Whaur pee-wheets yelpt and corbies pykit The deid man's graveless banes ; Frae whaur the neive o' Daith doon strikit The deid man's shulpit wanes ; Frae sauls beneath the altar-stane, Daith-gasp and deein' groan, A cry rose to the livin' God That shook the Stewart's throne. 'Twas when the green leaves prinkt the trees, Burns sang thei. peacefu' croon, A' in the gowden simmer prime 0' rosy-mantled June ; The lavei'ock sang high in the air, The white cluds floated slow Owre twenty stern, determined men Twa hundred years ago ; Frae the owre-hingin', deep^blue hills The reid sun glintin' doun *gm^^^mmm 'i-mmmf^^t.^m: iikw.m I I' ■■■•'. ; { ! . ^ i t f ! 40 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Saw twenty o' Christ's witnesses Ride into Sanquhar toun : The holy psalm, the voice o' prayer, And then the warnin' ring 0' words renouncin' fealty Unto a perjured king. Feeble and few were those wha daured Foretell a kingdom's loss ; But fearless they the dauntless words Nailed to the Sanquhar Cross. Humble, heroic rebels ye ! If the time e'er come to fling The defiance o' the People 'Gainst the airmies o' the King, Here is ane sprang frae four loins Wha shall grimly tak' his place, And daur to hurl the gauntlet Eicht in the tyrant's face ! 0, wild it seemed when outlawed folk Proclaimed an empty throne, Sentenced to exile royal lives. And could not save their own ; Then scattered to the purple muir, The mountain and the glen. Against a mighty empire The ban o' twenty men ! The Dedaratiuii of Saii'iuhar. On wild Airs ]Moss lay Cameron low, Peden slept 'neath the stane, Young Renwick from the scaffold high Unto his Lord had gane ; Broken was Balfour's lippit sword, 8air duntit Paton's mail, Sair, sair was Mitchell's agony, And the torture o' M'Kail ; Few saw the signs o' comin' doom, The writin' on the wa' ; But the false monarch's cup was f u', He tottered to his fa' : 41 Wae to the race that sat enthroned Upon a People's pain ; Their Lord is God ; his martyred anes Cry not — not to Him in vain ! yw J, I n W^^^^m£ :' 42 THE COVENANT SANGS. George Paulin. I'VE wandered east, I've wandered wast, auld Scotland's hills amang, An' listened to the ploughman's lilt, the shepherd's e'enin' sang, An' sadly mused on bygane days — for there's nae sang ava To mind ye o' the brave auld times — the Covenant times awa'. The braid blue bannet still may deed the pows in green Glencairn, The laverock wake the mavis yet in howes o' auld Carsphairn ; But waes me for the Covenant psalm, that echoed aince amang The wastlin' hames o' Scotland, mair sweet than mavis' sang. Aince gaed ye east, or gaed ye wast, on howm or heather braes. In clachan, cot, an' shiel was heard the e'enin' lilt o' praise ; The Covenant Savgs. 43 And i' the calm o' morn and even, the solemn sounds o' prayer Frae Scotland's hames amang the hills, gaed floatin' up the air. Frae^^Solway to Dunnottar, frae the Bass to Fenwick Moor, The Covenant life was bonnie aince, the Covenant faith was pure ; The flow'rs o' heaven were rife on earth — frae 'neath the auld blue bannet, Cam' croonin' up King David's psalm, or aiblins Erskine's sonnet. But noo nae mair amang the glens, nae mair amang the hills, The simple strains o' Covenant times, the muirlan' shepherd trills : Ye'll wander far afore ye hear the e'enin' psalm ava— The bonnie flowers o' Scotland's faith are nearly wed awa. 44 THE DOWNFALL OF DALZEL'L Allan Cunntnghaji. The wind is cold, the snow falls fast, The night is dark and late, As I lift aloud my voice and cry By the oppressor's gate. There is a voice in every hill, A tongue in every stone ; The greenwood sings a song of joy. Since thou art dead and gone : A poet's voice is in each mouth. And songs of triumph swell, Glad songs that tell the gladsome earth The downfall of Dalzell. As I raised up my voice to sing, I heard the green earth say : Sweet am I now to beast and bird. Since thou art past away, I hear no more the battle-shout, The martyr's dying moans ; My cottages and cities sing From their foundation stones ; Hi' msm The Downfall of Dahdl The carbine and the culverin's mute — The death-shot and tha yell Are twin'd into a shout of joy, For thy downfall, Dalzell. I've trode thy banner in the dust And caused the raven call From thy bride-chamber to the owl Hatched on thy castle wall ; I've made thy minstrel's music dumb, And silent now to fame Art thou, save when the orphan casts His curses on thy name. Now thou may'st say to good men's prayers A long and last farewell : There's hope for every sin save thine — Adieu, adieu, Dalzell ! 45 The grim pit opes for thee her gates, Where punished spirits wail. And ghastly death throws wide her door, And hails thee with " All hail ! " Deep from the grave there comes a voice, A voice with hoUov/ tones. Such as a spirit's tongue would have That spoke through hollow bones : — Arise, ye martyred men, and shout From earth to howling hell : M I I' ■■ ;;f I I ''^' [•i * 46 ^Trt?;/? of the Scottuh Covenant. He comes, the persecutor comes ! All hail to thee, Dalzell ! O'er an old battlefield there rushed A wind, and with a moan The severed limbs all rustling rose Even fellow, bone to bone. Lo ! there he goes, I heard them cry, Like babe in swathing band, Who shook the temples of the Lord, And passed them 'neath his brand ! Cursed be the spot where he was born ; There let the adders dwell, And from his father's hearthstone hiss : All hail to thee, Dalzell ! I saw thee growing like a tree — Thy green head touched the sky — But birds far from thy branches built. The wild deer pass'd thee by : No golden dew dropt on thy bough. Glad summer scorned to grace Thee with her flowers, nor shepherds wooed Beside thy dwelling place. The axe has come and hew'd thee down. Nor left one shoot to tell Where all thy stately glory grew ; Adieu, adieu, Dalzell ! The Downfall of Dahell. 47 An ancient man stands by thy gate, His head like thine is gray — Gray with the woes of many years — Years four-score and a day. Five brave and stately sons were his ; Two daughters, sweet and rare : An old* dame, dearer than them all, And lands both broad and fair : — Two broke their hearts when two were slain, And three in battle fell — An old man's curse shall cling to thee : Adieu, adieu, Dalzell ! And yet I sigh to think of thee, A warrior tried and true. As ever spurred a steed, when thick The splintering lances flew. I saw thee in thy stirrups stand, And hew thy foes down fast ^Yhen Grierson fled, and Maxwell fail'd ; And Gordon stood aghast ; And Graham, saved by thy sword, raged fierce As one redeem'd from hell. I came to curse thee — and I weep : So go in peace, Dalzell. 1 1 11 « Is I i fi IS If i 48 ANDREW HI SLOP. John Veitch, LL.D. [One of the proscribed Covenanters, overcome by sickness, had found shelter in the house of a respectable widow, and had died there. The corpse was discovered by the laird of Westerhall, a petty tyrant and an apostate. Ke pulled down the widow's house, left her and her younger children to wander in the fields, and dragged Andrew, a lad of 17, before Claverhouse. The guns were loaded, and the youth was told to pull his bonnet over his face. He refused, and stood confronting his murderers with his Bible in his hand. "I can look you in the face," he said ; " I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed. But how will you look in that day when you shall be judged by what is written in this book ? " He fell dead, and was buried in the moor. (See Macaulay's History of England, vol. i., chap. 4). The story is found also in Wodrow and the Cloud of Witnesses], Andrew Hislop ! shepherd lad, •* Martyr " graven on your tomb ; Here you met the brutal Clavers, Here you bore his murderous doom ! Coming from the hill that morn, Doing humble duty well ; Free in step, your honest look. Born of sunlight on the fell. Here the Eskdale mountains round j^ou. In your ear the murmuring stream ; Andrew Hislop. Here, 'tis May, the bleating lambs- Life but seems a peaceful dream. With no weapon but the crook Your soft helpless flock to guide ; Here they shot you, shepherd lad, Here you poured your warm heart tide ! *' Ere I pass into the Presence, May I make a prayer to God 1 " <' Not one word," said brutal Clavers, " We've no time, you wretched clod ! " Draw your bonnet o'er your eyes, That is boon enough for thee." *' I pass to God with open face, Wiiom you will hardly dare to see ! " Westerhall and Claverhouse, Turn now since the deed is done ! What care ye for rebel corpse 1 Let it bleach beneath the sun ! 49 So they left you, martyr brave, Left you on the reddened sod ; But no raven touched your face ; On it lay the peace of God ! 50 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. On the moor the widow mother Bows to lot of dule and pine ; And Westerhall and Claverhouse Have merrily rode back to dine ! 51 THE COVENANTER'S NIGHT HYMN David MacBeth Mom (Delta). Ho ! plaided watcher of the hill, What of the night 1 what of the night ? The winds are low, the woods are still, The countless stars are sparkling bright. From out this heathery moorland glen, By the shy wild-fowl only trode, We raise our hymn, unheard i ^ To Thee, an omnipresent God ! in. { r* ir. Jehovah ! though no sign appear. Through earth our aimless path to lead. We know, we feel Thee ever near, A present help in time of need — Near, as when, pointing out the way. For ever in Thy people's sight, A pillared wreath of smoke by day, Which turned to fiery flame at night. 52 Harp of the Scottkh Covenant. III. "Whence came the summons forth to go ? From T ^ee awoke the warning sound ! " Out to your tents, Israel ! Lo ! The heathen's warfare girds thee round. Sons of the faithful ! up, away ! The lamb must ot the wolf beware : The falcon seeks the dove for prey ; The fowler spreads his cunning snare." IV. Day set in gold ; 'twas peace around ; 'Twas seeming peace by field and flood. We woke, and on our lintels found The cross of wrath — the mark of blood. Lord ! in Thy cause we mocked at fears, We scorned the ungodly's threatening words, Beat out our pruning hooks to spears, And turned our ploughshares -nto swords t V. Degenerate Scotland ! days ha', e been Thy soil when only freeman trod j When mountain, crag, and valley green. Poured forth the loud acclaim to God ! The fire which liberty imparts, Refulgent in each patriot eye, The Covenanter's Night Hymn. And graven on a nation's hearts, The Word— for which we stand or die ! 53 VI. Unholy change ! The scorner's chair Is now the seat of those who rule ; Tortures, and bonds, and death, the share Of all except the tyrant's tool. That faith in which our father's breathed. And had their life, for which they died. That priceless heirloom they bequeathed Their sons— our impious foes deride. VII. So we have left our homes behind, And we have belted on the sword, And we in solemn league have joined. Yea ! covenanted with the Lord, Never to seek those homes again. Never to give the sword its sheath. Until our rights of faith remain Unfettered as the air we breathe ! VIII. Thou, who rulest above the sky, Begirt about with starry thrones, 54 ilarj) of the Scottish Covenant. Cast from the heaven of heavens Thine eye Down on our wives and little ones. From hallelujahs surging round, Oh ! for a moment turn Thine ear, The widow prostrate on the ground. The famished orphan's cries to hear ! IX. And Thou wilt hear ; it cannot be, That Thou wilt list the raven's brood, AVhen from their nest they scream to Thee, And in due season send them food ; It cannot be that Thou wilt weave The lily such superb array, And yet unfed, unsheltered, leave Thy children — as if less than they ! X. We have no hearth — the ashes lie In blackness where they brightly shone ; We have no home — the desert sky Our covering, earth our couch alone • We have no heritage — depriven Of these, we ask not such on earth ; Our hearts are sealed ; we seek in heaven For heritage, and home, and hearth ! The Covenanter's Nhjld ILjuin. 55 XI. Salem, city of the saints, And holy men made perfect ! We Pant for thy gates, our spirits faint Thy glorious golden streets to see ; To mark the rapture that inspires The ransomed and redeemed by grace ; To listen to the seraph's lyres, And meet the angels face to face ! XII. Father in Heaven ! we turn not back. Though briers and thorns choke up the path ; Rather the tortures of the rack. Than tread the wine press of Thy wrath. Let thunders crash ; let torrents shower ; Let whirlwinds churn the howling sea ; AVhat is the turmoil of an hour To an eternal calm with Thee ? ri ;l) 50 THE BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG Alexander G. Murdoch. Break ! veil of clouds ! Ho ! there it shines — the splendid sun of June — Above Drumclog's unploughed morass, an houi" before the noon ; And gathered on the heather-brae, rough-booted, there they stand — A stout sword girded on each thigh, a Bible in each hand — A handful of heroic men — God's covenanted few — Who dare in face of nre and death to hold their con- science true. And see, each stalwart form is bowed, each honest brow is bare, While, soft as dew, falls on each ear the preacher's voice of prayer. God bless that reverend head of his ! those humbly lifted hands ! Fulfilling on the wild hills thus the Master's high com- commands ! A boulder stone his Bible-board; the hill pool, deep and clear. msmmm^smtmrn The Battle of Dramdog. ;>( God's cup of sacramental wine, o'erflowing year by year ; And proudly throbs that parent's heart whose first-born gift is laid On some bare altar of the glen, by the white linn o'er- sprayed. But list ! the solemn voice of praise uprising through the calm — Auld Scotland sending up to God her highest faith in psalm. Ah ! there it swells and shakes the air — a hymn of holy words, Mi^ed with the music of the winds, the wild cries of the birds. No consecrations need they there — no mummeries of Rome — The pillared rocks their temple vast, the heavens their boundless dome. The awful silence of the hills lies round them far and wide, And God they feel is with them there conversing side by side. They see His templed majesty high set among the hills, His organ voice of cataracts the wilds with thunder fills, And deep within the still ravines they hear the chant of streams 4 I 58 Ilarp of tlie Scottish Covenant. "Where, all the noon, the antlered stag untroubled drinks and dreams. The Bible, with its grand old forms, and words of blessed power. Their prayer-book and their psalm-book still an all- sufficient dower ; The heather-brae, the altar floor, receives their kneeling knees. (lod bless auld Scotland's sturdy breast that suckles bairns like these ! The solemn song of praise is o'er, the far-off echo dies. And once again the larks are loud within the summer skies ; And now the preacher's lifted voice has stirred the air with power. The gates of heaven are open flung for one ecstatic hour; Their faith, wild as the hills, takes wing, and men, with bearded face, See white hands reaching down from heaven the pro- mised gift of grace. Then sweetlier blows each heather stalk, with all its bells of blue, And every wind is psalmed with praise, that sweeps the breckang through ; The EHittle of Drumdog. 59 The very hills, whose giant arms enclose them like a dream, Transfigured in the light of faith heaven's high-throned altars seem. But stay ! the signal shot is fired upon the neighbouring height. Now, veil awhile, thou brilliant sun, thy mockery of light ! Loud on the clear, still air the throb of nearing hoofs is heard. And Bibles in God's name are kissed, and swords are grasped and bared, And brief and hurried words of prayer and firm resolve are cast — The offerings of a simple faith — on the unconscious blast. i Now, lads, put past your Bibles all, the sword must do the rest. And lo ! God's book is buttoned up within each sturdy breast ; Steady there, men ; stand fast and sure. Ha ! there the vaunter comes — Bold Claver'se — with high heavy horse and roll of kettledrums. Round the far shoulder of the hill they fiercely plough the sod. ^«p"»" ■ '^Pfmtm'mm 60 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Their shining blades athirst to slay the sainted men of God; Their white plumes lifted on the winds, like sea-foam on the blast, The wreckers of God's children these ! dress up, lads, stout and fast ! Ho ! where is Burley — John Balfour 1 and Hackstoun — where is he 1 Five minutes, lads, and Claver'se horse will drench ye like a sea. Ha ! here's Sir Robert, side by side with Cleland, God be blessed ! Sir Robert of the eagle eye and high heroic chest. His voice, clear as a bugle, rings across the marshy fen — "Dress up along the front line, lads, and stand the charge like men." So they together closer pressed, and waited for the shock. Rough shoulder to rough shoulder laid — a bouldered front of rock. The God of Judah's land, they sang, and strong men wildly wept, And brows grew dark, and eyes flashed fire, and heart to heart out-leapt. They minded, too, of that fair youth— the shepherd lad who dared, In faith, the mighty Philistine ; and how the youth was spared. The Battle of Drumdog. Gl Of Pharaoh's host, too, 'whelmed and sunk beneath the red sea wave ; And crouching there, they felt that God was mighty still to save. Then, all the bairns and feeble folks went backwards up the brae. While down the hill-side strode the men a half-a-mile away. Before them all is loud with stir ; behind, the mountain airs Are murmurous with the greet of bairns, and throb of mothers' prayers. But Where's Sir Robert ? here he comes with Hackstoun on his right — " Fire, lads ! " they drove their slugs like hail, and many a steed r; i light. Ay, horse and man- together rolled — lay plunging in the bog ; " Noo, loup the ditches ! " Burley cried, " and gi'e the loons a shog." At once they lightly leapt the heath, and o'er the wet ground broke, And caps and plumes together wont, and drove like drifts of smoke ; Above them on their plunging steeds the troopers fiercely hung. 62 liarp of the Scottish Covenant. ¥ And wildly round their bonnets blue the long blades flashed and rung ; And pistol shots, and damning oaths, and maddened shrieks of prayer, Rose from the fighting mass of men and rung the shaken air. As when the sea is white with storms, and all the sounding shore Is moaning with the lash of waves, so rose and fell the roar. See, yonder's bloody Claver'se. Press on, and close him round, His staggering steed is pouring out its life-blood on the ground. God send him meeting with our chief, Sir Robert, bold and big. Or John Balfour o' Burleigh, lads — it's he could dress his wig. Aim well, and shoot the hireling down — the minion of King James, The last, and worst, and bloodiest of all the titled Grahames. Flash, flash ! two shots and twenty more are hurtled at his breast. It's useless ; fight him hand o'er hand, the cold steel tells the best. Have at him, lads, the titled wretch ! let life for life be paid, ••tr ' ns'r'&m.'" (i The Battle of Drumclog. G3 Praise Heaven ! if only stont Balfour might meet him blade to blade. Thrice Hackstoun's arm, with ringing sword, hung wildly on his track. And thrice the plumed dragoons closed round and bore the brave man back. And Hall o' Haughead, bless his heart, and manly strength of arm, The line of horse he shivered twice and wrought the foe alarm. Press on ! press on ! the fierce dragoons fight round him wild and well, In Christ's name drive the hireling band o'er morass, flood, and fell. Yen's he ! yon's he ! great Claver'se ! He of tb^ long white plume, In God's name clear a passage, lads ; give Burley fight- ing room. Thank Heaven ! he's on his track at last ! he nears him, bound on bound, Strike ! Claver'se's gallant steed is down, his rider bites the ground. Upon him, Burley, hip and thigh ; strike at him fast and sure, And have the deed in marble told whilst Scotland's hills endure. But, swift as light, the fierce dragoons close round hira ring on ring, 64 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. And safe from Burley's sweeping steel their horseless captain bring ; Together, lads, together press ; have at them, stroke on stroke, The might of Burley's arm this day hath saved the Lord's ain flock ; Upon them with the lifted pikes, and drive them down the brae. For Christ and Scotland's Covenant we wet our swords this day. And thus the fight went wild and well, and then, thank God ! at last Across the moor the broken horse went flying far and fast. Bold Claver'se, with blood-stained curls, his steed bare- headed rides — With oath of menace on his lips he spurs her bleeding sides. Up Calder height he climbs his way, his troops behind him strown. Wide scattered, as when o'er the fields the wasted leaves are blown. And when, by dint of spur and oath, the purple height he gains. Shame flushing all his handsome brow, his eyes he backward strains ; TJir Battle of Drumdog. (].j One damning sight alone is there — Christ's banner, broad and white, A league away floats firm and fair against the glad sun- light. cruel mockery of arms ! the vision stabs his pride, A handful of rude men to force his fast retreating ride. "God ! it were better to have fallen upon that barren heath, Than suff'er from these peasant hordes dishonour, worse than death." A cloud sits on his helmless brow — " God send another day ! " And waving on his scattered horse, he rides hard-paced away. Now praise be to the name of Christ, and God, the Lord most high, Who drove that day, o'er bog and brae, the godless — hip and thigh ; And sweet rest to the valiant souls who broke the front of wrong. Be their's the fadeless crown of life and shining fame of song. ■'•-»ta«i«lfe 66 ly troth but thae preachers they ken fu' weel A comely dame when they see ! " " They ca'ed my faither John Knox/' she said, Wi' a lightenin' in her e'e, " John Knox an' Welch ! the deil ne'er made Sic a match as that," quo' he. " It's like ye're richt, sir," she answered him, " For his counsel we didna speir." " An' hoo mony lads an' lasses, guid dame, Did John Knox, your faither, rear 1 " " He left but three lasses, sae please your grace." " Xoo, Guid be thankit therefor ! For an they had been three lads," he said, "My three kingdoms' peace were ower." " My liege, ye'll gie by your kingly grace, My gudeman his native air ? " " Gie him the deil ! " quoth the King wi' a frown. She up on her feet then an' there — 75 "Gie that to your hungry courtiers, my lord,' Quo' she, an' wi' curtsey law 7 (J Earp of the Scottish Covenant. She's turned on her heel to gang her way Frae King an' court an' a'. " Hoot, hoot, gudewife, sit ye doon, sit ye doon, 'Twas nocht but a foolin' saw ; Gin the bishops to heed ye can win your gudeman, He may aft to the Stewartone or daw' ! " She turned her an' up wi' her apron then, Wi' a flash in her e'en sae clear, " My lord, or ever I speak that word I'll kep his dead head here." She has left King Jamie at Hampton Court, An' hame to her gudeman gaes she ; The King he stan's fidgin' an' fidgettin' sair, Ower " The Laws o' Free Monarchy." He fechts an' he fidgets araang the leaves, An' sync for his pago ca's he, *' Gae fetch me yon prui^d carline's cousin, " he said, " My Lord o' Ochiltree." " Clin Welch be a dyin' man this day, Ave raaun gie hira th*^ tae half his will j Gae tell your cousin, my lord," he said, " He may preach till he't Dreacbed his Idl." j4i Misfretis Elizabeth Welch. i i The licht it flashed up i' the dimmin' e'e When AVelch heard the King his word, An' he's draEriied his senseless limbs anco mair r the pulpit to speak for his Lord. Ivicht lang an' earnestly he's tauld His message frae the King ; An' syne he's shut his chamber's dooi-, An' his life's reckoning. She's laid him in the green, green mould, Far frae baith kith an' kin, But a goodlier than his ain Scots' land Has opened an' let him in. .^tt0m t i\ -* »wim li ^t m m ^umm^*^ m 78 LINES OX AX OLD (i^\{\il CUP. I C / Alexander Ander jy. (" Surfacema)!.") I LIFT this old communion cup, And lo ! what visions gather up, Like white clouds in a summer day When all the winds have fled away ! For I can deem its sacred rim May have been touched by Balfour grim ; Or Peden, in whose fitful eye Kose up the light of Prophecy Or Cameron, ere the heather know On wild Airsmoss a duiker h'le , Or Kenwick, h\ the dew of vvnith, Before he gave his life for Iruth. I see, far out aiMMig the hills, Whose voices aio the lonely rills, The bleat of shee\\ tbo curlew's cry, The wail of winds tha*^ winder by, 1 see a K»Hd of cvirnest men For whom Truth waves her torch aeain I Lines on av Old Coinmnuhni Cup. To draw them orv.ard with its fiia, To dare to struggle and aspire. The simple faith tn worship God In the old ways thoir fathers trod Has brought them there ; and now they fstand, As outlaws in their native land, To claim that right ; and Nature there Joins in the spirit of their prayer. I mark their faces, stern and keen, And eyes that fla^l forth what they mean. A sword is in eacn strong right hand, Ready to leap forth at command. A Bible in the leff--the crown For which they fight— and eyebrows down In that stern will which cannot bend, But dares and suffers to the end. 79 I look again, and maidens there Bloom forth like summer sweet and fair, Beside their lovers sit, who know That one swift onset of the foe Might change the coming bridal wreath To cypress and the leaves of death. And sober matrons, in whose eyes Fear, with its troubled shadow, lies. For hu!=?bands,, sons, whose blood ere night May dye the bracken with its blight. j*-^_Jtwit^i^'--. (SO Harp of the Scottish Corennnt. Hush ! upward on the moorland calm, The wailing pathos of the psalm, And far along the bleak, grey hill It floats in echoes, then is still. Hark to the preacher. Eyes are there, And hearts that hang upon the prayer, And treasure, as a miser seeks To hide his gold, the words he speaks. O, sacred task to speak to men Who turn and search for truth again ; No higher task has yet been given Than hearing messages from heaven. if The vision sinks to rise again On flashing swords and dying men ; Gray heads have fallen low, and eyes Stare blindly to the passive skies ; The psalm has sunk amid the yell Of curses from the mouth of hell. The very Bible on the green Lies torn and open, and between The leaves, where promises are fair, Its owner's blood is resting there. " How long 1 " was once the cry of old When men rose and were stern and bold How long ? 'Tis not for us to think — God knows it — let the vision sink. i Lines on an Old Conimunvni Cup. 81 So ran my thoughts, that, thronging up, At sight of this communion cup. Made pictures, till the inward eye Saw underneath a lovely sky Gray bearded men and matrons trim Touch with hush'd lips its holy rim. Till, in the spirit. Fancy lent To colour all her dream I bent, And, part of all the sacred scene, Touch'd with my own where theirs had been. • I 82 I '.m^. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JAMES REN W I C K . i1] John Stuart Blackie, Weep, Scotland, weep ! Thy hills are sad to-day, But not with mist or rack that skirs the sky. The violent rule ; the godless man holds sway ; The young, the pure, the innocent must die ! Weep, Scotland, weep ! Thy moors are sad to-day. Thy plaided people walk with tearful eye. For why ? He dies upon a gallows-tree Who boldly blew God's trump for Freedom and for thee! t I 11 u I 1 '4- 'Tis a known tale ; it hath been so of old. And will be so again ; yet must we weep ! High on red thrones the blushless and ^he bold Hold state ; the meek are bound in dungeons deep. Wolves watch the pen ; the lion robs the fold, While on soft down the hireling shepherds sleep. God's holy church becomes a mart where lies Pass free from knave to fool, but Christ's true prophet dies. I Elegu on the Death <•/ Jaiib.- Ben wick. A youth was Kenwick, gentle, fair, and fine : In aspect meek, but firm as rock in soul ; By pious parents nursed, and holy line, To steer by truth, as seamen by the pole. In Holland's learned halls the word divine He read, which to proclaim he made the whole Theme of his life ; then back to Scotland came, At danger's call, to preach in blessed Jesus' name. 83 They watched his coming, and the coast with spies Planted to trap him ; but he 'scaped their snare. To the brown hills and glens of Kyle he hies, And with a steadfast few finds refuge there. On the black bogs, and 'neath the inclement skies. In rocky caves, on mist-wreathed mountains bare, The youthful prophet voiced God's tidings good. As free as Baptist John by Jordan's sacred flood. Fierce fumed the ruthless king. By statute law. To sing God's praise upon the purple hill Was treason. Courtly slaves with envy saw One unbought soul assert a manly will. And with his own hands from those fountains draw, AVhich sophists troubled with pretentious skill To make them clearer ; as if God's own plan For fining human dross must beg a stamp from man ! IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /> m ^ /- m^/ /^% f/i ^ ^ ^ ^ 1.0 2.8 I.I innai "^ ■'IS 1.8 1.25 1.4 J4 M 6" - ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN jTRBET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) S72-4503 ®^ o .\^ 1 i 84 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. ^A'ide o'er the moors now tramp the red dragoons, To hunt God's plaided saints from every nook ; And from a court of bravos and poltroons Goes forth the law which takes the blessed Book From the free shepherd's hands, that hireling loons ]\Iay spell it to a sense that kings may brook. Far raged o'er hill and heath the despot's sword, But faithful Renwick preached, and owned no human lord. Bold as when Peter in the temple stood "With John, and at the gate called Beautiful, Healed the lame man ; and stirred the spiteful mood Of priest and high-priest, holding haughty rule ; Witless ! Who weened that God's apostles should With human law and lawyers go to school : So boldly Renwick stood ; and undismayed With firm, unfaltering faith, God and not man obeyed. .1 li And faithful people loved him. From Green Ayr, Nithpdale, Glencairn, Sanquhar, and founts of Ken, Free pilgrim feet o'er perilous pathways fare, To hear young Renwick preach in treeless glen ; And mothers bring their new-born babes, to bear Baptismal blessings from his touch ; and when Fearless he flings the glowing word abroad, Full many a noble soul is winged with fire from God. I,.- Elegtj on the Death of James Hcuicick. 85 Yet must he die ! The fangs of law are keen ; False Law, the smooth pretender o' the Right, That still to knaves a sharp-edged tool hath been, To give a fair name to usurping Might ! By Law round noble Hamilton, I ween, Tho faggot blazed to feed proud Beaton's spite ; And now when Scotland's best to please the Pope And Romish James, must die — 'tis Law that knots the rope ! Let loo^e your hounds, cold-blooded lawyers ! pay The knave to trap the saint ! your work is done. Young Renwick falls, to venal spies a prey, And lawless Law kills Scotland's fairest son. The grey Grassmarket heard him preach to-day On the red scaffold floor. His race is run. Now kings and priests, with brave light-hearted joy, May drain their cups, nor fear the bold, truth-speaking boy! Weep ! Scotland, weep ! but only for a day ; Frail stands the throne whose props are glued with gore; For a short hour the godless man holds sw.ay. And Justice whets her knife at Murder's door. Weep, Scotland ! but let noble pride this day Beam through thine eye with sorrow streaming o'er ; For why ? Thy Renwick's dead, whose noble crime Gave Freedom's trumpet breath, an hour before the time. b6 THE SONG OF JENXV GEDDES. John Stuart Blackie. Some praise the fair Queen Mary, and some the good Queen Bess, And some the wise Aspasia, beloved by Pericles ; But o'er the world's brave women, there's one that bears the rule. The valiant Jenny Geddes, that flung the three-legged stool. With a mw-dow—at them now .'—Jenny flung the ^tool 'Twas the twenty-third of July, in the sixteen thirty- seven, On the Sabbath morn from high St. Giles the solemn peal was given ; King Charles had sworn that Scottish men should pray by printed rule ; He sent a book, but never dreamt of danger from a stool. With a roiv-dow—yes, I troiv— there's danger in a stool ! p* ._. -._„ i The Song of Jenny Gedde.'^. 87 The Council and the Judges, with errained pomp elate, The Provost and the Bailies in gold and crimson state, Fair silken-vested ladies, grave doctors of the school. Were there to please the King, and learn the virtues of a stool. jrUh a roiv-dow — yes, I iroiv ! — there^s virtue in a .sfool ! The Bishop and the Dean came in wi' muckle gravity. Right smooth and sleek, but lordly pride was lurking in their e'e ; Their full lawn sleeves were blown and big, like seals in briny pool ; They bore a book, but little thought they soon should feel a stool. JFith a row-doiv — yes, I trow ! they'll feel a three-lcjged stool ! 1 The Dean he to the altar went, and, with a solemn look. He cast his eyes to heaven, and read the curious-printed book : In Jenny's heart the blood upwelled with bitter anguish full; Sudden she started to her legs, and stoutly grasped the stool ! With a row-doiv ! — at them now !—finnly grasped the stool ! ..imiij, »4!iiUi w ^^nn 88 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. As when a mountain wild-cat springs upon a rabbit small, 80 Jenny on the Dean springs, with gush of holy gall ; IVllt thou say mass at my lugs, thou popish-puling fool ? No ! no ! she said, and at his head she flung the three- legged stool. inth a row dow — at them mm ! — Jenny fling the stool ! I A bumb, a thump ! a smash, a crash ! now gentle folks beware ! Stool after stool, like rattling hail, came tirling through the air, With, well done, Jenny ! bravo, Jenny ! that's the pro- per tool ! When the Deil will out, and shows his snout, just meet him with a stool ! JFith a ro'W-ihnv — at them now ! — there's nothing like a stool/ The Council and the Judges were smitten with strange fear, The ladies and the Bailies their seats did deftly clear, The Bishop and the Dean went in sorrow and in dool, And all the Popish flummery fled when Jenny showed the stool ! inth a row-dow — at them now ! — Jenny show the stool ! ■m mmmm The Son(f of Jenni/ Gtdde.i. 89 And thus a mighty deed was done by Jenny's valiant hand, Black Prelacy and Popery she drove from Scottish land ; King Charles he was a shuffling knave, priest Laud a meddling fool, But Jenny was a woman wise, who beat them with a stool ! With a row-dow — yes, / trow ! — she conquered bij a >-tool ! mmwmaiM ,.#.*«*««>)r* . '->i^ -w- N fc4»i>^J^. 90 THE MARTYRS OF WIGTON ''r'''4 JMrs. Harriet Stuart Menteath. '» i Ay ! bonnie hills of Galloway ! the clouds above ye driven Make pleasant shadows in your depths, with glints and gleams of heaven ; And ye have fairy, hidden lakes, deep in your secret breast. Which shine out suddenly like stars, as the sunbeams go to rest ; And ye have dells, and greenwood nooks, and little valleys still. Where the wild bee bows the harebell down, beside the mountain rill ; And over all, gray Cairnsmore glooms, a monarch stern and lone. Though the heather climbs his barrenness, and purples half his throne ! bonnie hills of Galloway ! oft have I stood to see. At sunset hour, your shadows fall, all darkening on the sea ; mm The Martyrs of Wigton. 91 While visions of the buried years camo o'er me in their might, As phantoms of the sepulchre, instinct with inward light ! The years, the years, when Scotland groaned beneath her tyrant's hand, And it was not for the heather, she was called " the purple land ; " And it was not for their loveliness, her children blessed their God For the secret places of the hills, and the mountain heights untrod. Oh ! as a rock, those memories still breast time's surging flood ; Her more than twice ten torture years of agony and blood ! A lurid beacon light, they gleam upon her pathway now; They sign her with the Saviour's seal — His cross upon her brow ! And never may the land whose flowers spring fresh from martyr graves, A moment's parley hold with Rome, her mimics, or her slaves ; A moment palter with the chains, whose scars are on her yet. Earth must give up the dead again, ere Scotland can forget ! h MawiaaaMaki 02 Horp of the Scottish Covenant. — A grave, a grave is by the sea, in a place of ancient tombs ; A restless murmuring of waves for ever o'er it comes ; A pleasant sound in summer tide — a requiem low and clear ; But oh ! when storms are on the hill, it hath a voice of fear! So rank ^nd high the tomb weeds wave around that humble stone, Ye scarce may trace the legend rude, with lichen half o'ergrown. But ask the seven years' child that sits beside the broken wall ; He will not need to spell it o'er — his heart hath stored it all ! A peasant's tale — a humble grave ; two names on earth unknown ; But Jesus bears them on His heart before the eternal throne ! And kings, and heroes, yet shall come, to wish their lot were bound With those poor women slumbering beneath the wave- girt ground ! The earth keeps many a memory of blood as water poured \ The peasant summoned at his toil, to own and meet his Lord ; % 4 m ':M ..A^ v)^:.- The Martyrs of Wigtov. 93 The secret hungering in the hills, where none but God might see — Ay ! Earth had many martyrs, but these were of the sea ; V 1 " The redcoats, lass! the redcoats!" cry the weans from off the street, "Who knows but Claver'se' evil eye, may blast them if they meet ? Xay ! only Bruce and Windman come I but, oh 1 wae worth the way ; They have gotten Gilbert Wilson's bairns in their cruel hands to-day I See Annie ! bonnie Annie I oh, but she is wasted sore With weary wandering in the hills this seven month and more ; And Margaret, with her bleeding feet and weather- stained brow — But surely One alone could breathe the calm upon it now ! I — She recks not of the jibing words those ruthless soldiers speak ; She recks not of her bleeding feet, her frame so worn and weak ; She sees not even ttie pitying looks that follow as she goes; 94 Harp of the S'''iffi6h Cvvemwt. Her soul is filled so full with prayer that God alone she knows ! Long hath she looked for such a day with awe and shuddering dread ; Its terror in the night hath fallen, haunting her cavern bed ; And she hath prayed in agony that, if he might not spare, Jesus would bear her charges then — and He hath heard her prayer ! s 1 1 I 1 ( They have brought her to their judgment-hall, a narrow prison-room ; And once she looked up, as they crossed, from sunlight into gloom ; And a sound of bitter weeping close beside her now she hears, And she wished her hands unshackled, just to dry her mother's tears ! They have questioned of her wanderings; they have mocked her with their words ; They have asked her if the Covenant could shield her from their swords. Or if she sought a miracle to test her call the more, That she ventured to her father's home — right past the curate's door ! y 'i') The Martyrs of Wigtoii. 95 They questioned her with cruel taunts, and waited for reply. She met her father's look of woe, her mother's stream- ing eye, A moment quivered all her frame, strange gaspings choked her breath. Then fell the words forth, one by one, as from the lips of death : " The blink of our own ingle, it came glancing o'er the tide, And we were wet and weary both upon the mountain side. My very heart grew sick within my father's face to see, And Annie yearned to rest her head upon my mother's knee ! " men ! but they are bitter tears ye cause the house- less weep, With haunting thoughts of food and fire that will not let them sleep ; And temptings of home words and ways, even whisper- ing as they pray. Until Another takes the load, once tempted even as they!" There was a murmur through the crowd — first hope, and then despair. For in the scoffing laugh of Bruce was thaL that could not spare : ■ Jum.i i giu.B. ' iW'ma ' H B ^TTT— S Tffl l i >-. ir uMlliiaiii 90 Harp of the Scottish Cov2nant. " O lass ! ye should have ta'en the bay e'er there was light to see ! " She answered tc that pitying voice — "I dared na for the sea I " .1 P Alas ! it is a little stroke draws from the flint the fire, And })ut a little spark may light the martyr's funeral pyre ; And in the hearts of evil men such mischiefs smoulder- ing hord, Tha' cruel thought, to cruel deed, may kindle as a word ! '* Ho ! Ho ! the sea ! the raging sea ! and can it tame your pride ? Mv sooth ! we'll frame a Covenant with the advancing tide. To-morrow, when ihe dawn is chill, in Blednoch Bay we'll see What mild persuasion harbours in the cold kiss of *:he sea ! " A man is stricken to the earth by that strange voice of doom ; The mother pleads not — knows not — all is blackness in the room ; As if smit with sudden blindness she goes groping from the door, And they hinder her to follow who shall see her face no more ! The Martyrs of irirjtun. 97 But the father ! the father ! 'twas a timid man and weak, Complying still with every time, he had his faith to seek ; And now, within his heart and brain, a dreadful sound he hears, A sound of rushing waters — but they find no vent ui in tears ! God help him ! He hath need of prayer, and knows not how to pray ; He gasps out vain appeals to men, who scoff and turn away; Madly he grovels in the dust, in desperate anguish now, Until he feels his Margaret's kiss, like dew upon his brow : "God help thee, father ! O this sight is pitiful to see ! Canst thou not give thy child for Him, who gave his Son for tb 3e ? Trust me, dear father, He is near His promises to fulfil, In passing through the waters He will be beside us still ! " — It is the solemn evening hour, the seal of that sad day, And the rich purple of the hills is blending all to gray ; And from the cloud thrones of the west the last bright gleam hath fled, And the moon riseth, white and wan, as a watcher o'er the dead ! ti i' f1 98 Harp of the ^'r dtish Covenant. m If ! — Sits Gilbert Wilson by his hearth, one child beside his knee ; cheaply ransomed with his all ! a ruined man is he ; For his poor life, and those poor hoards, the Cioss he dared to shun, All proffered now for his two bairns, and they have bought him one ! He sits beside his blackened hearth, unconscious of its gloom ; A chill hath gathered at his heart that mocks at that cold room. There is no food upon the board, no kindled rush to guide The gudewife at her nightly task of spinning by his side ; And saving that at times his hand, as if to prove her there, Strays in the darkness, trembling, amid his Annie's hair. And saving that the mother's moan at times will make him start, Ye might have deemed the mighty grief had burst the feeble heart ! ! prison bars are stark and strong to shut out light and air, And yet the moonlight's sympathy — it stcaleth even there, :| ' i The Martyrs of IVigton. 99 A glory on the dungeon floor as on the free green sod, A voiceless messenger of peace to souls at peace with God! And Margaret sitteth in its beam, its radiance on her brow. As though the crown she soon shall wear was brighten- ing o'er her now ; With folded hands upon her knee, and half-suspended breath, Listening to one who shares her cell and soon must share her death ! A solemn place, a solemn time for parted friends to meet. Yet in their same extremity their communing is sweet ; And while in prayer and praise fleet by the watches of the night, Faith, like the moonbeam, enters in and floods the grave with light ! Oh ! youth and age, contrasted well, in mutual help ye blend, Tills tells of the unchanging God — that of the Saviour friend ; One tramples life's new springing flowers for her Re- deemer's sake, The other stays her age on Him who never can forsake ! 100 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. It t i, Long had they loved, as Christians love — those two so soon to die, And each the other greeted first, with weeping, silently. The matron wept that that young life so timelessly must cease. The maiden that that honoured head must not go down in peace ; But soon, oh, soon, it passed away, the coward thought and base, And each looked humbly, thankfully, into the other's face : " Mother ! He rules the awful sea with all its waters wild "-— " The many waters are His voice of love to thee, my child ! " — The guards are met ; the stakes are set — deep, deep within the sand ; One far toward the advancing tide, one nearer to the land; And all along the narrow shore that girdles in the buy. Small groups of anxious watchers come, as wane the stars away ! Low lie the fog clouds on the hills, blank in their cur- tained screen ; Each crest of beauty veils its brow from that abhorred scene ; The Martijrs of Wigton. 101 While eastward far, the straining eye, through mist and gloom, may see Large raindrops plashing heavily into a dull, sad sea ! — They come — they come — a distant sound ! — a mea- sured marching, soon On mail-clad men the dew drops rain from off thy woods, Baldoon ! The trodden grass, the trampled flowers— alas ! poor emblems they, Of all a despot's iron heel was crushing down that day. They shall revive ! the harebell, see— uprears its crest again ; The falling dew hath cleansed anew its purity from stain ; And thus beneath the oppressor's tread, and hell's opposing powers, God's truth throughout the land shall spring— a sudden growth of flowers ! Ah ! little Margaret's playmates deemed, in childhood's frolic glee, What shadow of a coming hour still scared her at the sea The work is done ! the strife is won ! the conflict passed away ; 102 ILirp of the Scottish Covenant. Rule o'er these wrecks of human kind ! and triumph if ye may ! High hearts once beat beneath the vest a Scottish peasant wears. Go ! seek them in their martyr graves ! for these are not their heirs ! Only a seed the mountains keep, till God's good time shall come, And the harvest, sown in blood and tears, be brought with shoutings home ! 1^^ A sound — it cometh from the sea ! and many a cheek is 4/ pale ; A freshening wind — and fast behind, that hurrying voice of wail : " Beshrew my heart ! " cries Windram now ; " haste, comrades, while ye may ! With Solway speed, I red your heed, the tide comes in to-day. Now, mother, to the stake amain ! your praying time is past ; Or pray the breakers, if ye will, they race not in so fast ! " Her grey hairs streaming on the wind, they bear her to the bay, AVhile nearer roars the hungry sea that ravens for its prey! C:l ij ' 'is The Martyrs of TVigton. IOC And Margaret stands, with cold clasped hands, that bitter sight to see ; And now toward her own death-place they guide her silently ; A sudden impulse swayed the crowd, as those young limbs were bound ; A moment's movement stilled as soon ; a shiver through a wound ! And they have left her all alone with that strong sea before, A prayer of faith's extremity faint mingling with its roar; And on the eyes that cannot close, those grey hairs streaming still ; While round about, with hideous rout, the wild waves work their will ! CM " Ho ! maiden ! ho ! what see'st thou there ? '' 'Tis Windram's brutal voice : "Methinksan early portion now were scarce beneath thy choice ! Yon sea-birds, screaming in their glee, how low^they swoop to-day ! Xow tell us, lass ! what dainty cheer allures them in the bay ?" A change hath passed on that young brow — a glow, a light from heaven ; r (, :i I R > 1 I- 1 I It i if' i I lot //(^y^) of the Scottish Covenant. A1)0ve the sea, the lowering sky to her seems glory- riven : " It is ray Saviour wrestling there in those poor limbs I see ; He who is strength in death to her hath strength in death for me ! " And sudden, from those parted lips, rich tones of triumph come. Her fear is past ; she stands, at last, superior to her doom ! And strains, in midnight watchings learned, on many a blasted heath, Swell slowly, solemnly, to heaven — the anthem of her death ; Strange sweetness vibrates on the gale. It rises o'er the sea As though an angel choir prolonged that thrilling har- mony ! And still the song of faith and praise swells louder, clearer yet. While to her feet the foam wreaths curl, and the dry sand grows wet ! —A yell 1 it echoes from the hills ! it pealeth to the sky! Startling wild creatures of the woods with its wild agony ; '■'■^i mmm ;lory iimbs les to her The Marfi/r.< of IVigfon. 105 And bounding on from rock to rock, with gi*dnt arms tossed to heaven, And maniac gestures, scaring still the crowd before him driven, A haggard man hath gained the bay, with blood-shot eyes and wild ; And cast him down at Windram's feet, and shrieked, " My child ! my child ! " Poor Margaret heard, as died her song, in one convul- sive gasp, And the rushing waters bound her in the terror of their clasp ? ises o er ing har- , louder, . the dry th to the 1 its wild " My child ! my child ! she shall not die— I've gold, I've gold," he cried ; " I found one heart that pitied me, though all were stone beside. Ye said that for a hundred pounds, the oaths ye'd proffer still — Spare the young life ! she'll take your tests ! I know, I know she will !" Dark Windram glanced upon the gold; be glanced upon the sea : "Laggard, thou comest late," he said; "she might have lived for me ! " mma -■fcMi- T l u ii / i ld ,Ht. -i.. I Wl ■— itfw«»>prfci 106 Harp uf the Scottish Covenant. But two strong swimmers at the word plunge headlong in the wave ; They reach the stake — the cords they break — not, not too late to save ! I; mm' III f|i And women throng to chafe her hands and raise her drooping head, Dropping warm tears on the cold brow, so calm, so like the dead, While that poor father, crouching near, creeps shudder- ing to her feet, And steals his hand up to her heart to count its earliest beat ! Just then, athwart two glooming clouds the morning sun made way. Lighting a glory on the wave, a sunbow in the spray ; And up the hills the mist wreaths rolled, revealing half their frame, And Margaret in the gleam awoke and breathed her Saviour's name ! Dark Windram turned him on his heel ; he paced apart awhile : " Oh for the heart of Claver'se now — to do this work and smile ! Come, girl, be ruled ! thou'st proved enough, methinks, yon bitter brine ; The Martyrs of JFi;/hm. 101 »ng not her like dder- trliest jrning ?ray ; ig half led her ed apart ais work nethinks, '4. We'll find the partans fitter food than these young limbs of thine ! Hold off, and let me near to her ! beshrew this snivelling ring. Ho, lass ! stand up upon thy feet, and pray, ' God save the king ! ' " " To die unsaved were horrible," she said, with low sad voice ; " Oh yes ! God save him if he will ! the angels would rejoice ! " Then up he sprang, that trembling man, low cowering at her feet : " 'Tis said — 'tis said — my blessed bairn ! those words of life repeat ! " And Windram signalled with his hand, and rose a shout on high ; Strange blessings on the tyrant's head ! — but ere it reached the sky, A miscreant foul hath stopped its course, and baulked the echoes near ; They could not catch a sound that died like curses on the ear ! A spare, mean man, with shuffling gait, hath pressed before the rest : " 'Tis well to pray ' God aave the King ; ' but will she take the Test ? " .M ' Jj > m.Sii Li ' -^ ■< — i- .um immmw. 108 Harp of the Scottish Corenant. And Windrara looked into his face and cursed his civil sneer, He knew him for the tool of Grahame — his spy, and creature there ; A curate's brother creeping up, in those ill times, to place ; Trained in apostasy from God to all things vile and base ! " Well ! well ! Sir Provost, work your will ; this gear is to your mind. For me, I'd rather fight with men, than choke this woman kind ; Bid her abjure the Covenant — none better knows the how ! There's scarce an oath on either side but you have gulped ere now ! " Smooth smiling stood the provost forth ; no chaffing stirred his blood, Something he muttered of "King James," "the law,'' and " public good ; " And then, as angry brows grew dark, and women muttered loud, He shrank towards the soldiery, as though he feared the crowd ! *' Dear Margaret, baulk this bloodhound yet ! spare thy father's woe ! " k. The Martyrs of Wigton. 109 She started from their clasping arms — " I may not ! — let rne go ! I am the child of Christ," she said ; " Lord ! break this snare for me ! " And Windram turned his face aside, and pointed to the sea ! t. — They will not cease, they will not sleep — those voices of the wave, For ever, ever whispering, above the martyr's grave ; 'Tis heard at night, 'tis heard at noon — the same low wailing song, In murmur loud, in cadence low — "How long, O Lord, how long ! " A cry against thee from the tide ! O tyrant, banned of Heaven ! It meets the blood-voice of the earth, and answer shall be given ! A little while— the cup fills fast, it overflows for thee. And thine extremity shall prove th: vengeance of the sea ! Ay ! gnash thy teeth in impotence ! the fated hour is come. And ocean, with her strength of waves, bears the avenger home ; »«'.■■!'!!, "'J X ' i JI ' .Ll',UJ S!i wwii'gin^aaciittt. ' i'Mir ' irwB i' T H^ ' -m 'n ! ^^ S{[ i' 'i? I 110 Zra);p 0/ ^Ae Scottish Covenant. See ! eager thousands throng the shore to hail the advancing fieet, While bp''!od Dartmouth vainly strives the heavensent foe to meet ; And post on hurrying post crowds fast, v^ith tidings of dismay How the glassed waters lull to aid the landing of Torbay. Away ! prepare thy coward flight ; thy sceptre scourge cast down, The sea pursues thee with its curse, thou king without a crown ! M' If/, fl I' ' 1 E« 111 the ent s of ; of urge bout CAMERON'S GRAVE IN AIRSMOSS. Robert Re id. Like a sweet ^.ncense rising to the Lord From this lone altar in the muirlands gray, The hallow'd memories of a bygone day Hang over Airsmoss : here the tyrant's sword Made brave men martyrs, and their graves a shrine ; And here the lips of those who that day bled (Staining the heather to a deeper red) Bore testimony to their faith divine. Revere them, Scotland ! Cherish, and revere ! Base is that son of thine who shuts his eyes To the pure merit of that sacrifice ; 111 he desb. ves the freedom purchased here — For to this spot our country's glance should turn As proudly as to glorious Bannockburn ! .4 4 I mmmmmmm'i'i^ 'ml K > '^1 '\* < ■ ( -, Pi:*, * •( ■-) m \i i m i h: ^ 112 "BOTHWELL BIIIG." On hearing an impressive sermon delivered (Sabbath, June 10th, 1866) on the place where the Battle of Bothwell Bridge was fought, commemorative of that event. Janet Hamilton. 0, Bonny Clyde ! a shimmering gleam Oot owre thy rippling bosom plays, When frae the bricht blue sky o' June The sun leuks down on simmer days. But ne'er did glancin' sunbeams glint, An' owre thy dancin' waters play Mair bricht, than whan to ** Bothwell Brig " We teuk the road ae Sabbath day. An' ne'er owre " Bothwell banks sae fair," Sae aft by Scottish minstrels sung. Were wafted higher, holier strains. Till bank an' brae wi' echoes rung. Auld Scotland's stout an' stalwart sons, An' bonnie lasses gather'd there. Bothwell Brig. An' mithers douce, wi' restless bairns, Auld men an' wives wi' siller hair. An' een grow dim, and hearts were fu', As owre the vera grun' they trod, Whaur their forbears, for conscience sake. Had pourVl their life-bluid on the sod. My granny's gutcher bare a sword At Bothwell Brig that dolefu" day. An' ne'er had left the bluidy fiel' But for his guid an' gallant grey. 113 She swam wi' him across the Clyde, An' bare him to his ain door stane. Lang after that he hidin' lay Till he was hunted oot an' ta'en. For Christ, His croun an' covenant, he Laid doon his life in Embro' toon. An' frae the scaffold rose to wear The victor's palm, the martyr's croon. Noo, God be prais'd, sic times are gane ; Let Scots be Scots — they'll ne'er return ; Nor king nor priest a,gain ha'e power, Gude men, an' true, to bang an' burn. 114 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. An' noo, frae a' the airts that blaw, By thoosan's folk cam' thrangin' in, An' roun' an' roun' they sat them doun, Until the holy wark begin. They raised the Psalm, it swell'd, it thrill'd. It mounted to the gates o' heaven. An' ne'er mair sweet, mair solemn joy, By singin' o' the Psalms was given. Wi' pleadin' voice, an' words o' power, The preacher poured his soul in prayer — Prayed that the martyrs' covenant God AVad bless them wi' His presence there. An' ! what witnesses unseen May us that day ha'e compass'd round, Wha loved their lives not to the death. An' noo wi' Christ in glory crown'd. An' bless'd be God, we noo can sit Beneath oor vine and fig tree shade — May raise the Psalm, an' preach an' pray, Nane daurin' to mak' us afraid. S: !i Wha, noo, frae aff his ain hearth-stane. Will drag the husband an' the faither, Bothwcll Brig. H-'' Syne leave him to his wife an' bairns, A bluidy corpse upon the heather ? Nae dark Dalzell, nae Claver'se stern, Ride forth wi' sword an' bridle ringin', Oor sufFerin' covenanted sires To prison an' the scaffold bringin'. The memories o' her martyred dead May Scotland dearly cherish ever ; They sowed the seed, we reap the grain — Their names, their deeds, shall perish never. •^ Til IIG THE PENTLAND HILLS. Baroniiss Nairne. The pilgrims feet here oft will tread O'er this sequest'red scene, To mark whare Scotland's martyrs lie In lonely Rullion Green, — To muse o'er those who fought an' fell — All Presbyterians true — Who held the League and Covenant, Who waved the banner blue ! Like partridge to the mountain driven, Oh ! lang and sairly tried ! Tieir cause they deemed the cause o' Heaven» For that they liv'd and died ! Together here they met and prayed — Ah ! ne'er to meet again ; Their windin' sheet the bluidy plaid. Their grave lone Rullion Green. Ah ! here they sang the holy strain, Sweet Martyrs' melodie ; When every heart and every voice Arose in harmonie. iy't The Pentland Hills. The list'ning echoes all around Gave back their soft reply, While angels heard the hallow'd sound, And bore it to the sky. Oh ! faithless King ! hast thou forgot Who gave to thee thy croun ? Hast thou forgot thy solemn oath, At Holvrood and Scone ? Oh ! fierce Dalzell ! thy ruthless rage Wrought langsome misery ; What Scottish heart could ever gi'e A benison to thee ! 117 n» Oh ! Claverhouse ! fell Claverhouse ! Thou brave, but cruel Grahame ! Dark deeds like thine will last for aye. Linked wi' thy blighted name. Oh, Pentland hills, sae fair and green : When in the sunrise gleaming. Or in the pensive gloamin' hour, Aneath the moonbeams, streaming ! I love to wander there my lane, Wi' sad and sacred feeling ; While hallowed mem'ries wake the tear. In waefu' eye saft stealing. BW I 118 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. A\ I love thy wild sequestred glen, Thy bonny wimplin' burn ; For Scotland's brave and martyr'd men, Still does it seem to mourn. J t mm^ 119 A DREAM OF THE TIMES OF THE COVENANT. Walter Chisholm. In still early morning, while yet I reclined, In the sleep so refreshing that labour bestows, The shadows of Dream-Land stole over my mind. And brought me the visions which now I disclose. 'Twas a dream of the days which have now long gone by. When the dark mountain cave was the Pastor's abode ; When the death-stnoke of martyrs oft darkened the sky, And men met in secret to worship their God. Methought that i lay in a wild lonely glf j, Which Nature of old had marked out for her own ; The sweet violet peeped round the sly fox's den. And perfume on each balmy zephyr was blown. , t- mmm .1 I UK i. ! it^ i' ■I ' i:. »■■ ! I t. |i I ^,:1 ■ f ;: i5 jj,,,^, ,/ «A. Sco«^s/^ Covenant. 120 ,^J:Iun,aaUt,HcV,,..Uow,ana.oua. Where plover and grouse mong ^^^^' .A with riuple and swell, ^td"--— ■----'^'"^'"■ .„d.here,on.he.reen.oJ.;-^^^^^^^^^ ^'"^^"r:::^::^ -Lie and grand ™ddens mothers and children were there, .,e Minister then frorn the shelj^tp.^_„, All listening enrapt, while ot , Whose life-hlood so freely for smners w Dtcniii of the Times of the Covenant. 121 id brae, e cloud ; e thorny id. id fell, ather-bells rell, er its tide. And "Fear not, my poor suflering brethren," he said, " Though fell I*ersecution our frames may destroy, The soul that on Christ, the Redeemer, is stayed, Shall soar from the dust to a kingdom of joy." Thus passed the bright Sabbath, till borne on the breeze A murmur came floating of soft soothing power ; It was the low hum of the homeward bound bees, Rich-laden with spoils from each sweet nectared flower. »and id grand, tain of blue. 1 were there, aim ; uirring air— the calm ! Once more the loud praises were wafted on high ; And in name of Jehovah a blessing was spoke — Then from my fond gaze the fair vision did fly. And awaking I found that the dawning had broke. Yes, dawning had broke, and the monarch of morn Was chasing the shades with the light of his shield And thus, too, the dawn of the Gospel shall burn Till darkness and error are swept from the field. ock of Heaven ! loke, ivas given : 8 100 1 WW BROWN OF PR I EST HILL. 1st Mail, 1685. Henry Inglis of Torsonce. n i. " Tie up the cur to the rowan tree, And let six of the men dismount : Ye may leave his tongue and his weasand free To tell the truth an he will, to me : Now carrier of Calvrrv Prepare for thy laot account ; For never on earth shalt thou bear again Rebel warnings to rebel men, If thou showest not where, and how, and when, In moss or muir, by crag or fen, Thou hast hidden the canting hound ? " f, i II. Thus spoke John Grahame of Claverhouse, And hi.= eye glared coldly round : It rested on a pale sweet face Pale with affright in the early morn, At clash of sabre and clang of horn, llmwn of Pric connected with the slaughter of James, Archbishop Sharpe. "I came not to send peace, but a sword." Ihomas C. Latto. On Magus Muir, near grey St. Rule, Well graith'd with belted brand, Rude firelocks in their bolsters set, Linger'd a mounted band. Foumart or brock they search'd na out. But vermin deathlier still Than squirmers o' the whuttret brand. That callants run to kill. Bleak was the morn an' cloudy, Their faces pinched with cold, Gazing with disappointed glance Across the dreary wold. For something they had waited Impatiently since dawn, 130 Harp of the Scottish Coienant. Now 'twas surmised untoward chance Their quarry had withdrawn. That (juarry was Carmichael, A beagle of the law, The Primate's hireling satellite Tithes from the stooks to draw. Fines and recoveries, besides, Taxes that freemen fast At Lauderdale's outrageous pest Made dukes their teeth to gnash. On Hackstoun of Eathillet His hand had heavy borne, To pay auld scores they watched for him That memorable morn. But wary was Carmichael, Warn'd what before him lay ; Backing his horse, he to his house Eeturn'd another way. " Come ! " said Balfour of Burley, AVhose skellied een could glower At once up to Drumcarrow Craig And to St. Rule's square tower — -^ Andrew Gallanc's Stane. ♦'Come !" cried Balfour of Burley, " Kathillet ! bide your time ; The foutar, sly, has slipp'd the girn, Auld birds are ill to lime." Ran up a be . " Our mistress bade Me no to spare shoe-leather ; The coach that the Archbishop bauds Is whirlin' thro' the heather." The gudewife o' Baldinny's lugs Were gleg as ony mawkin', Weel she jalous'd this change o' game Their sport wad no be baukin'. " Gude ! gude ! " quo' Burley ; " grace ye see Is grantit to the godly ; What luck to get untill oor creel A sowmon for a fodley ! " *' I fear me," answer 'd Hackstoun, " He swither'd on his ride, AnJ like the sly fox that he is, Slipp'd by the nor'ard side." " Guard Brig, we'll tak' him safely, Whaur nane a clour can gi'e, 131 -. ■fc j(LI!iJBUWtefcLL.- mm 'y If f > ' lis r 'I 1^ 1 1l I .,1 t I ■ 132 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Alio win' him to won " the scores " An' jow " Kate Kennedy." * " 'Tis said that in his pouch are stow'd Warrants some necks to wring ; Sign'd, seal'd, deliver'd by the hand Of our most gracious King : "Far waur than ten Carmichaels, Tax-reavin', tramplin' tool Oor Jamie, in the Jesuits' claws Mass-greedy senseless fool." " Whisht," cried John Balfour with a grin, " The apostate's surely nail'd ; Deceiv'd in this I cannot be. My scout has never fail'd. "Shaipe's bound to cross the Magus Muir This day 'tween dawn an' dusk. Sure as Gillespie Grumock loups At soi-gh o' Monymusk." That moment echoed o'er the muir Faint rumble as of wheels ; The Bell of St. Salvador College, still extant. Andrew Galkme's Stane. Each nervy hand unconsciously To hilt of sabre steals. Priming is look'd to in hot haste ; They instantly dismount And without clock or horologe Seconds begin to count. There was a callan' close at hand Herding some scrunty sheep ; To him the bridles they entrust, Charging him watch to keep — An innocent and harmless boy, In him no tantrums found, To whom "The Solemn League" itself Was but a tinkling sound. He saw a carria^.3, grand, approach ; The horses, prompt, they seize — The door is forced — a grey-hair'd man — His daughter on her knees. 133 " Spare him ! oh, spare him ! he is old ; His failing years are few ; Ye would not surely take his life ! " But mercy, — none they knew. ^;f 4' ^. \ 4 134 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. They struck him down e'en as she pray'd For pity in that hour ; Papers they rifled from his breast ; It was tlieir day of power. Dangerous, incriminating roll — Their own names with a host Of others doomed to hang and burn, Made each pale as a ghost, II. ' 1 u Till scarlet indignation flamed ; Hatred as fierce as hell Blaz'd up, nigh smoking from the eyes, But roused no savage yell. Then leapt inhuman purpose up As round the jackmen trooped From the crushed, battered " dome of thought " The brains — still warm — were scooped. They stood ac(|uitted to themselves, Despite his hoary hairs ; His own act scattered every doubt ; 'Twas his life-blood or theirs. Amid the daughter's sobs and wails Each grasped his bridle-rein ; Andrew Gallane's Stanc. 135 Oft"! rteetest steed that e'er was foaled To catch might strive in vain. And yet, James Sharpe ! oh ! would that thou Might'st have been safely spared ; For terrible indeed thy fate, But still that fate thou dared. An old man's blood, however wrong Ambition might control, I should be loth to have it lie A nightmare on my soul. The poor herd, trembling, took to flight. His terror adding wings, And, frantic, down 'mong frichtened yowes Prostrate his body flings. The lackeys, dazed and horrified Locking the door, were fain To gallop onward to the goal Their master failed to gain. Ere noon went forth the hue and cry^ Burley got clear away To fall in an ignoble strife — Not battle — an affray. \f f.'!' 11 ij 136 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. But Hackstoun of Rathillet met The doom his mate ignored, Making acquaintance barbarous With the dark deemster's sword. 'i I ^ '( .' : ! We mourn for poor Rathillet, His torture feeling wrings ; No wish of his to slay his foe — Man, worthy better things. Years passed — herd Andrew, now a man, Has taken him a wife ; And tho' at times he tremors felt, Lived on his canny life. But either he had talked too much. Or, thro' the menials' zeal. The little role, enforced, he played Disturbed the commonweal. :l ■;. Before the stern Thirteen arraigned, One victim more to be, Douce Andrew yielded up his breath Upon the gallows tree. In a small clump, triangular, Of scrubby beeches, brown, tAfv Andrew Gulkme's Stane. The martyr-seed of that poor boy Was mercilessly sown. 'Tis still a memorable spot, Eesort of pilgrims fain, To pay the tribute of a sigh O'er Andrew Gullane's Stane. 137 xVlas ! that Christ's religion Breeds such envenomed wrath. Prompting to sweep pure saintly ones From furious bigot's path. Thank Heaven to-day on Magus Muir, As thro' all Scotland broad, The right we won we grandly keep — Freedom to worship God ! ■ ■ ■•— fi — >^«aii ^ '*' yn Mi i > 0/ /Ac Scottish Covenant. Yes ! though the sceptic's tongue deride Those martyrs who for conscience died, Though modish history blight their fame, And sneering courtiers hoot the name Of men who dared alone be free Amidst a nation's slavery ; Yet long for them the poet's lyre Shall breathe its notes of heavenly fire ; Their names shall nerve the patriot's hand Upraised to save a sinking land. And piety shall learn to burn With holier transport o'er their urn ! i "!^^^""^P"!""P^*1 143 A LAY OF THE MARTYRS. James Ho(;g {iUe Ettricic Shepherd). *' Oh where have you been, bonnie Marley Reid 1 For mony a long night and day I have missed ye sair, at the Wanlock-head, And the cave o' the Lowther Brae. " (3ur friends are waning fast away, Baith f rae the cliff and the wood ; They are tearing them frae us ilka day ; For there's naething will please but blood. " And, bonnie Marley, I maun now Gie your heart muckle pain. For your bridegroom is a-missing too, And 'tis feared that he is ta'en. " We have sought the caves o' the Enterkin, And the dens o' the Ballybough, And a' the howes o' the Ganna Linn, And we wot not what to do." m 'i .' >! •t'.i .1 hi Ml J .1, ! Ji- \\ 144 ^rtJ^J o/ //i(3 Scottish Covenant. " Dispel your fears, good Marjory Laing, And hope all for the best, For the servants of God will find a place, Their weary heads to rest. " There are better places, that we ken o', And seemlier to be in. Than all the dens of the Ballybough, Or howes o' the Ganna Linn. " But sit thee down, good Marjory Laing, And listen awhile to me. For I have a tale to tell to you, That will bring you to your knee. " I went to seek my own dear James In the cave of the Lowther Brae, For I had some things that of a' the world He best deserved oo hae. " I had a kebbuck in my lap, And a fadge o' the flour sae sma'. And a sark I had made for his buirdly back, As white as the new-dri'en snaw. " I sought him over hill and dale, Shouting by cave and tree ; if ^mim^ A Lay of the Martyrs. But only the dell with its eiry yell, An answer returned to me. " I sought him up, and I sought him down, And echoes returned his name. Till the glouffs o' dread shot to my heart. And dirled through a' my frame. 145 \¥' \^ " I sat me down by the Enterkin, And saw, in a fearful line, The red dragoons come up the path, Wi' prisoners eight or nine : 7 » " And one of them was my dear, dear James, The flower of a' his Fin ; He was wounded behind, and wounded before, And the blood ran frae his chin. " He was bound upon a weary hack, Lash'd both by hough and heel. And his hands were bound behind his back, Wi' the thumbikins of steel. " I kneeled before that Popish band, In the fervour of inward strife. And I raised to heaven my trembling hand, And begged my husband's life. ill i I ■i i h w fill 146 iTa?'!? of the Scottish Covenant. " But all the troop laughed me to scorn, Making my grief their game ; Ai d the captain said some words to me, Which I cannot tell you for shame. "And then he cursed our Whiggish race With a pioud and a scornful brow, And bade me look at my husband's face, And say how I liked him now. (( Oh, I like him weel, thou proud captain. Though the blood runs to his knee, ind all the better for the grevious wrongs He has suffered this day frae thee. " But can you feel within your heart That comely youth to slay 1 For the hope you have in Heaven, captain. Let him gang wi' me iway ! *' Then the captain swore a fearfu' oath, With loathsome jept and mock. That he thought no more of a Whigamore's life Than the life of a noisome brock. " Then my poor James to the captain called, And he begged baith hard and sair, A Lay of the Martyrs. 147 To have one kiss of his bonnie bride, Ere we parted for evermair. «' ' I'll do that for you,' said the proud captain, ' And save you the toil to-day, And moreover, I'll take her little store. To support you by the way.' "He took my bountith from my lap. And I saw, with sorrow dumb. That he parted it all among his men, And gave not my love one crumb. " ' Now, fare you well, my very bonnie bride,' Cried the captain with disdain ; ' When I come back to the banks of Nith, I shall kiss you sweetly then.' " ' Your heartiest thanks must sure be given, For what I have done to-day ; I am taking him straight on the road to heaven : And short will be the way ! ' " My love he gave me a parting look. And blessed me ferventlye, And the tears they mixed wi' his purple blood, And ran down to his knee." ,1 I ■ ;' V i I i.|; I > . (I '■^^^^^Sf^f^^i^^v m m. 1 ■ m nf ■K( B ^ w ^ (> 1 1 148 JEfrt?;/? o/ //itf Scottish Covenant. " What's this I hear, bonni(3 Marley Reid ? How could these woes betide ? For blyther you could not look this day, Were your husband by your side. " One of two things alone is left, And dreadful the one to me ; For either your fair wits are reft, Or else your husband's free." " Allay your fears, good Marjory Laing, And hear me out the rest ; You little ken what a bride will do, For the youth she likes the best ! " I hied me home to my father's ha'. And through a' my friends I ran, And I gathered me up a purse o' gowd. To redeem my young goodman : " For I kenned the Popish lowns would weel My fair intent approve ; For they'll do far mair for the g'^od red gowd, Than they'll do for heaven above. " And away I ran to Edinburgh town. Of my shining treasure vain, A Lay of the Martyrs. 149 To buy my James from the prison strong, Or there with him remain. *' I sought through a' the city jails, I sought baith lang and sair ; But the guardsmen turned me frae their doors, And swore that he was not there. " I went away to the Popish duke, Who was my love's judge to be, And I proffered him a' my yellow store, If he'd grant his life to me. " He counted the red gowd slowly o'er. By twenties and by tens, And he said I had taken the only means To attain my hopeful ends. i ■Ml k " ' And now,' said he, 'your husband's safe ; You may take this pledge of me : And I'll tell you, fair one, where you'll go. To gain this certaintye, — " ' Gang west the street, and down the Bow, And through the market place. And there you will meet with a gentleman, Of a tall and courteous grace ; f I' I is K - ill '^■•mmsmmmm' 1 < II If ■I 150 ir«);/:» ()/ the Scottish Covenant. " ' He is clad in a livery of the green, With a plume aboon his bree, And armed with a halbert, glittering sheen Your love he will let you see.' " Marjory, never flew blythsome bird. So light out through the sky. As I flew up that stately street, Weeping for very joy. " never flew lamb out-o'er the lea. When the sun gangs o'er the hill, Wi' lichter, blyther steps than me. Or skipped wi' sic good will ! "And aye J blessed the precious ore. My husband's life that wan ; And I even blessed the Popish duke. For a kind, good-hearted man. "The officer I soon found out, — For he could not be mistook ; But in all my life I never beheld Sic a grim and a gruesome look. " I asked him for my dear, dear James, AVith throbs of wild delight, A Lay of the Martyrs. 151 And begged hira in his master's name, To take me to his sight. " He asked me for his true address, With a voice at which I shook ; For I saw that he was a Popish knave, By the terror of his look. 'i I I *' I named the name with a buoyant voice. That trembled with ecstasye ; But the savage brayed a hideous laugh, Then turned and grinned at me. *' He pointed up to the city wall : One look benumbed my soul : For there I saw my husband's head, Fixed high upon a pole ! i 5 5 I " His yellow hair waved in the wind, And far behind did flee, And his right hand hung beside his cheek- A waesome sight to see. n " His chin hung down on open space, Yet comely was his brow, And his eyne were open to the breeze — There was nane to close them now ! m H' \ 152 Harj) of the Scottish Covenant. " ' What think ye of your true love no^7 ? ' The hideous porter said ; ' Is not that a comely sight to see, And sweet to a AVhiggish maid ! ' " Oh, hand your tongue, ye Popish slave, For I downa answer you : He was dear, dear to my heart before, But never sae dear as now ! " ' I see a sight you cannot see, "Which man cannot efface ; I see a ray of heavenly love Beaming on that dear face. " ' And weel I ken yon bonnie brent brow, Will smile in the walks on high. And yon yellow hair, all blood-stained now, ]\Iaun wave aboon the skv.' ■ " But can ye trow me, Marjory dear ? In the might of heavenly grace. There was never a sigh burst frae my heart, Nor a tear ran o'er my face. i " Bat I blessed my God, who had thus seen meet To take him from my side, mm tffa ■am m A Lay of the Marfi/r.^. MS To call him home to the courts above, And leave me a virgin bride." " Alack, alack, bonnie IvTarley Reid, That sic days we hae lived to see ! For siccan a cruel and waefu' tale Was never yet heard by me. " And all this time, I have trembling, weened. That your dear wits were gone ; For there is a joy in your countenance, Which I never saw beam thereon. " Then let us kneel with humble hearts. To the God whom we revere, Who never yet laid that burden on, Which He gave not strength to bear." 10 ir)4 ON MARK WILSON, SLAIN IN IRONGRAY.* Allan Cunningham. W! I WANDERED forth when all men lay sleeping, And I heard a sweet voice wailing and weeping, The voice of a babe, and the wail of women. And even there came a faint low screaming ; And after the screaming a low, low moaning, All adown by the burnbank in the green loaning. I went, and by the moonlight I found A beauteous dame weeping low on the ground. The beauteous dame was sobbing and weeping, And at her breast lay a sweet babe sleeping. And by her side was a fair-haired child. With dark eyes flushed with weeping, and wild * " On Mark Wilson, slain in Irongray," is one of a series of Oameronian ballads contributed to Blackwood by Honest Allan in 1820. In reference to their authorship his biographer (Rev. David Hogg) remarks : " When and where Cunningham picked up these ballads we cannot tell, but perhaps he got them from the same fair hand who gave him the • Mermaid of Galloway ; ' or, what is likelier still, from his own fertile imagination — t\w same source. " On Mark Wilson. 155 And troubled : he held by his mother, and spake — " Oh mither ! when will my faither wake ? " And there lay a man smitten low to the ground, The blood gushing forth from a bosom wound. And by his side lay a broken sword, And by his side lay the opened "Word," His palms were spread, and his head was bare, His knees were bent — he had knelt in prayer ; But brief was his prayer, for the flowers where he knelt Had risen all wet with his life's-blood spilt, And the smoke of powder smelt fresh around, And a steed's hoof-prints were in the ground. I a IS s I i She saw me, but she heedd' not. As a flower she sat, that had grown on the spot ; But ever she ki- It o'er the murdered man. And sobbed afret'i, and the loosed tears ran; Even low as she knelt, there came a rush Like a fiery wind, over river and bush. And amid the wind, and in lightning speed, A bright Kider came, on a brighter steed. " Woe ! woe ! woe ! " he called, and there came To his hand as he spake, a sword of flame ; He smote the air, and he smote the ground. Warm blood, as a rivulet, leapt up from the wound, 4 I' loG Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Shriek followed on shriek, loud, fearful, and fast. And filled all the track where this dread one passed ; And tumult and terrible outcry there came, As a sacked city yields when it stoops to the flame ; And a shrill low voice came running abroad, " Come, mortal man, come, and be judged by God ! " And the dead man turned unto heaven his face, Stretched his hands and smiled in the light of grace. 1 n'- ^E |a '■' |-fi i'Jl 1 '. I ij ^ & 157 THE DEATH OF JAMES GUTHRIE. (Executed at the Cross of Edinburgh, 1st June, 1661.) James Dodds. Slowly, slowly tolls the death-note, at the Cross the scaffold stands : Freedom, law, and life are playthings where the Tyrant's voice commands : Found in blood your throne and temple ! foretaste of a glorious reign ; Though the heavens were hung in sackcloth, let the Witnesses be slain ! 'Tis the merriest month of summer, 'tis the sweetest day in June, And the sun breathes joy in all things, riding at his highest noon ; Yet a silence, deep and boding, broods on all the city round. And a fear is on the people, as an earthquake rocked the ground. Slowly, slowly tolls the death-note, at the Cross the scaffold stands ; And the Guardsmen prance and circle, marshalled in their savage bands j \ «^i»»««H*mw»-?*W^-' J , r, ! ^■^ 158 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. And the people swell and gather, heaving darkly like the deep, When, in fitful gusts, the north winds o'er its troubled bosom sweep. ii I Now the grim Tolbooth is opened, and the death- procession forms, With the tinsel pomps of office, with a vain parade of arms ; Lowly in the midst, and leaning on his staff, in humble guise Guthrie comes, the Proto-martyr ! ready for the sacrifice ; Guthrie comes, the Proto-martyr 1 and a stern and stifled groan Runs through the multitude ; but patiently he passeth on; And the people stand uncovered, and they gaze with streaming eyes, As when of old the fiery chariot rapt Elijah to the skies. On his staff in meekness leaning, see him bend infirm and weak ; Man in youth, and old in manhood, pale and sunken is his cheek. And adown his shoulders flowing, locks grown pre- maturely gray. ip«« The Death of James Guthrie. 159 Yet the spirit, strong in weakness, feels nor languor nor decay ; And a loftiness is on him, such as fits a noble mind, Like the oak in grandeur rising, howsoever blows the wind ; On his lip, though blanched with vigils, sits the will to dare or die, And the fires of grace and genius sparkle in his cloudless eye. " This frail and mortal flesh, I give it Freely to the Lord of all ! Were my limbs of brass and iron, 'Twere an offering far too small. Life is only ours to serve Him ; And our term of service done, Death for Him and for His Covenant Is an honour cheaply won. " Xot as felon, nor as traitor, Whatso evil tongues proclaim, Am I hither come to suffer Every brand of outward shame. Fixed and serious in my purpose Where the hand of God was seen ; Yet in all things have I laboured To preserve my garments clean. r I " ^'^iWiWWPTOSS^Jii; . .-*-iU«J-.i4„'*.ti,^ IGO Harp of the Scottish Covenant. " I was loyal when the kingdom Bowed to Cromwell's haughty frown ; Few would own the royal standard All defaced and trodden down. Then the flatterers who doom me Now to suffer in the street, Whined and fawned like stricken spaniels Eound the Lord Protector's feet ! " Constant to my Prince, and constant To the vows we both had taken, Faithful to his right I stood, when By his summer friends forsaken. Loyal am I, free to render Unto Caesar Caesar's due, Tribute, custom, temporal honour, And obedience leal and true. (C But the King who reigns in Zion, High o'er every earthly throne, Shall I flinch from His allegiance ? Or my solemn vows disown ? With uplifted hands I swore it. When the Nation joined in band. Monarch, magistrates, and nobles, And the peasants of the land ! Though I knew by signs and shadows That my life-blood must be spent The Death of James Guthrie. In the work and in the warfare, Struggling for the Covenant. 161 (( Welcome scaffold ! 'tis a iJethel, Angel-wings are hovering here ; Welcome ladder I thou shalt lift me Far beyond this cloudy sphere. Ah ! thou Daughter of my people ! Sweet and lovely at thy birth, When the throes of Reformation Shook the old astonished earth, What a blight is on thy beauty, Since thou hast forgot thy truth, And the joys of thy bright morning- Sweet espousals of thy youth ! " Thou shalt suffer ! God's true Gospel Shall be darkened, and a brood Of locusts overspread thy valleys, Leaving neither flower nor food ; And the wild-boar from the forest Rush on thy defenceless home ; For thy watchmen do not warn thee Of the woes about to come ; But they slumber, drugged with wine-lees. Or they quail in carnal fear ; And thy bondage shall continue Till the Lord Himself appear. ■m ■ ---1111- 162 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Till He make His right arm naked, To avenge His people's wrongs ! And restore the mournful captives, With everlasting songs. " Here my pilgrim's staff is broken, All my bands are now untied ; I die to live with Him for ever, Who for my salvation died. Faith, which long hath groped and wavered In this world's uncertain light, Leaping from its mortal prison, Now is passing into sight. Earthly cares and human contests, Inward pangs and darkness cease, Now, Lord ! dismiss Thy servant Into everlasting peace ! " He hath spoken! Seal his sentence; little boots it what ye do : He hath spoken! and recorded darker, heavier doom on you ! Hurry on the doom assigned him by the minions of your State, Kend the head from off his body, fix it on your city- gate; The Death of James Guthrie. 163 Let the Lyon-Herald taint him, be his arm reversed and torn ; Be his earthly goods confiscate, let his household wail and mourn ; Crush the Spiritual by the Carnal, answer Conscience with the sword ; By the dungeon and the scaffold force submission to your word : Good and Evil, Force and Freedom, let them close with deadly yell ! 'Tis a warfare old as Satan, deep as the abyss of Hell ! He hath spoken ! and his words are not water on the ground ; Years may vanish, but his warnings shall in all their truth be found. He hath spoken! and the Nation to its inmost soul hath heard And the withered bones are shaken by the breathings of his word ; And, though dead, his guiding spirit in the land for aye shall dwell, And Oppression's boasted strongholds shiver at the mighty spell. I iiiriiMiiriMliiiiiaMiM 164 PEDEN "THE PROPHET'S" GRAVE A. B. Todd. High on a knoll above the town Where mellowed comes the din, Up from the marts of trade, which drown All softer sounds within. Where balmy summer breezes play. From out the glowing west ; Or where the wintry tempests bray, Till, spent, they sink to rest. Beneath two old and hallowed thorns, Sleeps Peden good and brave. Where, now, fit monument adorns The grand old "Prophet's " grave.* His second grave it is, for long His persecutors prowled « * In the year 1891, a beautiful granite monument, 21 feet high, was erected close to the grave of this grand old Elijah of the Scottish Covenant, at a cost of nearly three hundred pounds sterling, — the inauguration ceremony being performed by Professor Blackie, and attended by about 4000 people. mamm Peden. "The Prophcfs" Grave. 1G5 O'er bleak moor and through darksome glen, (Though Heaven in anger scowled) To shed his blood, with those who stood For conscience and for right : The cave high o'er the flood they searched With torches in the night, They searched his brother's dwelling through, Jjut God protection gave, And willed that his dear saint should go Down to a bloodless grave. At early dawn, all silently, In haste that grave was made, Which green had grown at Auchinleck, When it his foes invade. And bore his corse, with fiendish glee, Away to Cumnock town. To hang it on the gallows tree, Which grimly there did frown. But woman's pleading voice prevailed The indignity to save, Though at the gallows foot was made Old Peden's second grave. These evil times have passed away, The war-trump and the drum ; The clash of arms, the battle-bray 'Mong Scotia's hills are dumb ; ' ^ -•' '^ - ■ - -.i-.-..-|^^ ii V, m; IGG Harp of the Scottish Covenant. And since not now our necks are bent To tyrants and the sword, We owe it all to those who stood And battled for the Lord. And long will patriots drop the tear, Which pity aye will crave, From those who come from far and near, To visit Peden's grave. h h If i 1 Bl M-Mi 167 BULLION GREEN Henry Scott Riddell. While lone through the woodland my path I pursue, Where the soft breeze of morning unceasingly sighs, Yet scarce stirs the boughs o'er the night's deeper dew, So long in the forest's recesses that lies. Oh ! shall not the thoughts to high heaven belong, Where now live exalted the faithful and good, Who here, when the tide of oppression ran strong, For Faith and for Freedom the spoiler withstood ? The sunshine beams bright on the heath of the hill, And beauty and bliss mark the scenery of day ; There's music and joy in the voice of the rill, And the wild rose in loneliness waves by the way. Yet would there be joy in the voice of the stream, And beauty on earth from the heavens above, All blended in light like a bliss-bringing dream. If our land were no land of true freedom and love ? gum m pp ^ppppwmHH il 1G8 Harp of the Scottish Corcnanf. ]More rich is the flower, and the sunshine more bright, In'the isles lying far o'er the ocean's wide wave, But when shall the lawn and the flower bring delight That is trod by the nuep of the tyrant and slave 1 On the breast of yon steep, lo! the warrior's grey cairn, W !uj bled for his country, still rising is seen; And far "mong the moorlands the heath and the fern Wave round where the grave of the martyr grows green. I I i I And these are the mighty, the r-orally brave. Who died, an inheritance thus to convey That is more than the wealth that can come by the slave, And all that is found 'neath the dwellings of day. 'Twas the light of high heaven that fixed (though so frail) The heart of humanity, still to withstand The powerful and proud who with death would assail The lowly and faithful that lived in the land. Defying that God, in their merciless strife, That erst sent to save them His own only Son, They lavished in madness the powers of their life In the soul-searing servitude of the Foul One. I mm RnUwii Grciu. 1G9 Oh, pause by the cairn, yet still more by the grave That far on the moor for the martyred was dui^, And ask if 'twas more not true freedom to save Than won all that proud ones delighted to hug. The King in yon halls drank his deep draught of wine, While tlatt'rers around sent the ruthless abroad ; The progress to mar of the radiance divine, And murder the })eaceful, and browljeat their God. They hemmed in the valley and hunted the moor, And pilfered the gear that the fugitives left ; And mocked the frail mother and children, now poor, Of their father and home and their holding bereft. Thus press would the power that enforced them to bear, Yet left for the suff'rer no path of appeal ; Till wild desperation arose from despair, To ward oil' the blows that oppression would deal. Here hoary and hot came the wild Laird of Binns, Whose cheek ne'er the tear-drop of pity bedewed ; 15ut the victory is poor inhumanity wins, O'er those it to woe and to want hath pursued. Yet sigh not for them with a bosom dismayed, That hero sleep so sound where they died on the lea; 1 1 170 Harp of ^he Scottish Covenant. Though the turf by the stranger might o'er them be laid, 'Twas a turf of the land which they fell to make free. \\ And God will remember, below and above. The heart that approved itself fearlessly true ; To the cause which His influence has taught it to love, Where the foemen are fierce and the faithful are few. Here —here too behold how the stone has been reared, The memorial of those, still through ages to stand ; Who died in resisting the foes tliat appeared, 'Gainst the freedom and faith of their own native land. m ?^NtS«%|!js^j^sw,*ii •^M 171 THE N I T H S I ) A L i: iM A K T V R S AVil[.ia:\i M'Dowall. Wax frail rikI eniinUle into dust Each fretted toin'' ;iiid storied bust ; Memorials of the perished proud, Be your ijiiirui foiui'intioiis bowed- Let shattered sh;ift atK^ nlnmeless crest Time's desolatiiiL;' march a.ttest ; The gilded scroll and blazing urn To blank and voiceless stone return ; That truncheon to the earth be thi'own, Its severed sand like ashes strewn ; That diadem to diirlcness cast. Its emblematic ^ulory past: — Let these memorials, ojie ;uid all, In unrecorded ruin fall ; Yea, let the poet's lofty shrine* Its laurelled garniture resign, And siidv, with dark oblivion hid ; * 'i'he moumuent t(/ the poeh Burns atands a little to tbu east 01 tliat raist'd in St. Miclia I'a C'liurcliyara, Dumfrios, to tlio Mnrtyra. mmmfmmmmmmmmtmmt mm 172 Harp of the Scottish Covemmt. But spare this rude grey pyramid ! Time ! take the rest without a tear, But turn aside, nor tram])le ' n-e. Though well the chi .'. end t'.<: lyit. To consecrate the de '' ;f ^ ]^i( .-, And hearts beloved arc jps\eu belov.', AVho merit all which thes jestow ; Yet if thy path must no. Is be traced By mouldering shrines and tombs defaced — If these which Art has called her own But form a footstool for thy throne, To tremble 'neath thy tiresome tread, Then mingle with the insulted dead; If thou canst not thy foot refrain, Take these proud piles Avhich crowd the plain ; But, as thou would'st a blessing earn, Spare, spare the Marty is huml)le rairn. Memorial oi chat dous^hty band Whofc blood so oftoM dyed \ ^o land — Of those who trodc >-* toilsome path. Thorn-planted by the tyr.int's v/rath— Who nobs) braved contemp* atid shame, Oontenduig (or Messiah's claim, And lea.iiUiHl in brotherhown-rights and C«^v«nani strove : \N itnesss y< hills that point to heaven, ^mimmim mmmm J The Nityilak Marfi/rs. 173 How true the testimony given ! Witness, ye streams which calmly glide, How fearftilly their faith was tried ! Witness, thou vale of Nith so fair, Their hours of weariness and care — Their days of dread and nights of pain, When shelter there they sought in vain ! Thy dusky caves their shadows lent ; Thy craggy glens their foliage bent To clasp within their dim embrace The remnant of that stricken race ! But cruel men h;\\c eagle eyes — They pierced the folds and found the prize ; They found them with long watching tired. But yet with deep devotion fired. With haggard look and raiment torn, With visage marred, and famine-worn ! How wasted now each stalwart frame ! But still their high resolve the same — To worship, though a host said nay, As conscience pointed out thi^ way : In its blest exercise thcv fell, Sore stricken in the mountain dell ; 'Mid taunt and scorn they died — they died By desert stream and lone hillside ! And this grey ]>vrnmid was piled To keep their memory undefiled. «R mem ■ippi 174 liaq' of fJie ^cotlish Covenant ThiU men unljorn might understand The Claim of ^cotlanVs mart} r band : Then spare its stones, thou spoiler Time ! To touch them were presumptuous crime ! The stern old Caile, with scythe and glass, Just pointed to the drooping grass, Which winced and withered 'neath his frown : " So shall its stones be shaken down ! I travel on — beneath my tread Earth's monumental piles are laid ; Though fools would to their tablets trust The records of the proud or just, All'] bright or brave achievements done, I triumph o't r them every one : So mjist this feeble structure fail. And buried be its woeful tale, Swept from the register of years, Its narrative of blood and tears : In vain to harm it not you call. What reck I, if oblivion's pall Above thti'K^ boasted martyrs fall ? ' }i Then do thy worst, though large thy boast, Their hallowed names shall ne'er be lost ; Their deeds, their wrestlings, their renown, Shall pass to latest ages down ; ^p The Nithsdah Martyi's. 175 I These cannot fall beneath thy sway Like this frail chronicle of clay. Long as heroic worth remains To thrill the pulse in human veins ; Long as thyself their fame shall last- Yea, longer ; for when Time is past, The Martyrs' memory shall not die : 'Tis star-traced in yon cloudless sky. 176 THE MAETYR'S GRAVE Hugh Brown. I I HAVE Stood by the m.artyr's lonely grave, Where the flowers of the moorland bloom, Where bright memorials of nature wave Sweet perfumes o'er the sleeping brave In his moss-clad mountain tomb. -i \ H I knelt by the wild and lonely spot. Where moulders the heart of one That bled and died, but blanched not At the tyrant's chain or the soldier's shot, Till life's last sands had run. 1 And the vision of other days came back, When the dark and bloody band, With the might of a living cataract, Essayed to sweep in their fiery tract The godly from the land. When Zion was far on the mountain's height, When the wild was the house of prayer ; •si 'J Thr Martyr i^ Grave.. 177 Where the eyes of eternal hope grew bright, O'er the saint arrayed in the warrior's might For his God and his country there. When the barbarous hordes, as they onward rode By the wild and rocky glen. Have heard when away from man's abode, A voice that awed like the voice of ( od ! 'Twas the hymn of the fearless men. For the sunless cave was the martyr's home, And the damp cold earth his bed ; And the thousand lights of the starry home Were the suns of his path while doomed to roam O'er the wilds where his brothers bled. When the clang of conflict rose on the heath, And the watchword of freedom rose, Like the tones of heaven on the saint's last breath. Far, far o'er the battle notes of death, As he soared to his last repose. When he stood by the scauold, the faggot and stake, As his earthly heritage ; Yet welcomed all for his Master's sake, Whose sword of vengeance yet should wake To curb their whirlwind rage. ^'*L ^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 If: ilM M 1.8 U ill 1.6 6" -^bo ^ e^' *% >? <9^. ^ %_ 'c ^'^ ^•.> > o; % 'JSi^ PhotogTEiphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 873-4503 4i^ 178 llai'j.1 of the Scottish Coccnant. The vision passed — but the home is mine Where the wild bird makes her nest, On the rocky altar, and mossy shrine, AVhere the weeds and flowers of the desert shine Round the martyr's bed of rest. The lovers of freedom can never forget The glorious peasant band — His sires — that on Scotia's m« untains met ; Each name like a seal on the heart is set — The pride of his fatherland. I 179 HOLY GROUND. J. Lauchlan :MacLean Watt, M.A. Talk not to me of holy ground, or of places conse- crated ; For all the world is sacred soil, which the Lord our God created — And for riband, and gesture, and Latin creed, and the Pope himself, I care not — There's a glory to me on the lone hillside, which the crypt and the cloister share not. I Ay, up on the hills— in the halls of mist— in the very eye of heaven — There is the glory fresh from God, and the inspiration given Where the psalm of the martyrs caught the breeze, and solemnly rose and fell. As they worshipped Him, where their life's blood flowed, to stain the heather bell. Float, mist ! above the valley, high o'er the saintly soli- tude, Where by cave, and crag, and hole, and hag, the shadow and silence brood ] 180 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. And every knoll in the lonely glen — each cleft in the mountain side — Is a holy place, where the saints of God, fought, fainted, and fell, and died. I ( Yea, yonder to me is the holy soil, in the heart of eternal hills, Where God, in the mists. His kingly peace, in the soli- tude yet instils 'Mong the moss and the moors, and the plash of burns, that sang the saints to sleep ; Where their sad grey cairns, like sheeted ghosts, their time-long sentry keep. i I 'j^ I 41. It is merely a passing fancy now, as I stand 'neath the lowering sky. That the air grows heavy with dream, as I hear the wild whaup's wailing cry ; As down the valley on fitful breath, the voice of the ancient psalm Floats like a message of peace from heaven, and falls on the soul like balm ? And I hear the voice of Cargill swell, on the hush of the listening air. As he lifts the cause of his faithful ^'ew to the throne of God in prayer : 1 ', Holy Ground. 181 There are old men, bowed with the weight of years, — and young folks fair to see — And the Broadsword bare, by the Bible is there, at the worshipper's bended knee. :? But the clash of contiict stills the prayer, as the scarlet horsemen ride, And the cruel sabres strew the dead along the moun- tain side ; And the bloody harvest is gathered in, with a God-ward vengeance cry, That rings through the world yet, age on age, as the true and the faithful die. O, moorland mist ! or ever I wist, you spake my spirit sad, As I saw the world so harsh and cold, and with murder fever-mad : God grant that the times be far away — if ever the morning break — When men can again be fiends of hell, for the Gali- lean's sake. 182 THE BATTLP:-FIELD of DKUMCLOCt. Sarah Parker Douglas (The Iris/i Girl). f '^ t \ ;•[ Memorial pillar! as to read thy simply-sculptured stone, I stand on this expansive moor where quiet holds her throne ; The deep, deep silence which prevails, seems all at once to Hy, And sights and sounds of ag'cs gom; come back to ear and eye — Comes back the time when prayer and praise uprose from godly men, Whose temple was the Icnely heath, the rocky cave and glen. Who, armed and n .idy fur the foe, from ])ended knee arose, In faith renewed, in courage siron, the tyrant to r»]>|tose. The tyrant, v. ho wuuld inter lia ; 11 libcity of thought, Compel then, to ignoie the prayers their infant lips were taught, i ii I The Battle-field of Dnirnclog. 183 And breathe before their father's God dictates of other minds, By law nnd bigotry enforced, and all that sternly binds. But stalwart men of pious heart, in holy union bound, Courageously defending right, through all the land were founds A handful here, a handful there, 'gainst mighty hosts 'tis true, Who left no cruelty untried their ardour to subdue. Yet, found unflinching as their sires, whose blood dyed many a field, Who chose them victory or death, but did not, would not yield, To see home altars overthrown, the Book divine des- pised, Religious liberty chained down, which more than life they prized. Brave men 1 quick-sighted men ! who saw, despite of mask and creed, The visage of the despot fiend that made their fathers bleed, Whose iron heel appeared again, upraised in savage ire, To trample glorious freedom down, and crush it in the mire. .0 I -jmi iii n 184 Ibiq) of the Scottish Covenant. : { i i ^ •■ ! ' t ill B\it words are needless to recall that persecution's reign — How many homes made desolate, how many good men slain ; How many widowed bosoms mourned the husbands of their youth, Yet gloried that they nobly fell for Liberty and Truth. The land was stained with martyrs' blood, but heroes lived and fought. Those rights bequeathing to their sons, so bravely, dearly bought. Here, this Memorial Stone attests, assailants were sub- dued — The mossy fields of famed Drumclog with lifeless foe- men strewed. 'Tis June's first morn, the Sabbath morn, with its deep holy calm ! Dew pearlcts glitter on the sward, the air is fraught with balm ; The lark hath left her lowly nest, and up, far upward floats. The pure, clear ether making glad with her sweet matin notes. The spirit of devotion seems to breathe from heath and fen. And from the tranquil heavens above beams Peace, good-will to men ; nrr-irrmrr-riiiii i^m^mm^f ! The Bnttle-Jield of Dnundog. K^^) Yet, nigh the base of yonder hiil, whose summit's gilt with rays, l^y stealth are met a pious ijanti to join in prayer and praise. There, on the stilly air, ascends each solemn vocal sound, And there the sacred Book is read with reverence pro- found. And orisons are ofiercd up in holy faith and zeal, Xot for deliverencc from foes, but for dear Freedom's weal. And as the sacred melody dies on the genial air. And as commingling with the breeze ascends the earnest prayer, A buizle note comes loud and clear from Loudonhill hard by, A warning from their sentinel, which tells of danger nigh. The prayer is ended soft and low, then turning undis- mayed, The worshippers await the foe, in each hand a trusty blade. Xow, Graham of niunvied fame, and troop of mounted men, Come sweepin- furious o'er the brae, and dash towards the fen. 12 if ' "i^piffW"W"P-'».'-'?^!#JiL';/' Ihc Scottish Covenant. They meet — they fight — the clash of steel, loud oaths and shrieks of pain, Dispel the quiet, which so late held glad and holy reign. The neighing wild of struggling steeds plunged in the yielding bog, With all the din of conflict fierce, resound through lone Drumclog. The contest's o'er, the field is won, the fearful tumult dies. But anguish moans, and distant sounds of flying hoofs arise. With remnant of his armed dragoons base Claverhouse has fled ; The rest bestrew the mossy turf— there writhing, dying, dead: With vengeful ire had Graham come remorselessly to slay Those " rebels " termed, who at Drumclog had dared to meet and pray. Yet not the blood he had designed so ruthlessly to spill, Made sanguine yonder battle-field, and dyed yon bubbling rill. The tyrant found the little band with whom he had to cope, Were men prepared for life or death, for either strun;.; in hope. i ■I 4 «■ Tlu Batlle-Jhhl of Drnnirlnij. 1>S7 4 That hands, so late before their Ood in supplication clasped, Were those of valour's self, when thus defensive blades they graspcfl. He saw his scofling warriors fall before their dauntless might. And raging, van(|uished, and pursued, made ([uick, in- glorious flight. And this Memorial Pillar stands a sacred tribute reared In honour of those dauntless men, whose fame's world wide revered. *T I i 188 t 1> ! N t THE SONG OF THE PRISON EKS. George Paulin. By the walls of old Dunnottar Booms the breaking billow's roar, O'er the whitening crest of surges Sounds the ocean dirge of yore ; As they, rushing, burst in thunder On Dunnottar's stormy shore. Oft the music of the billows Mingled with the covenant psalm, When the dungeons of Dunnottar Held the followers of the Lambs — Men who now in heaven are wearing Eound their brows the victor's palm. For the westland wild and moorland, Hunted by the fierce Dundee, Bound and bleeding, now they listened, As the surging of the sea Shoreward broke, and breaking, mingled With their westland melody. 'X Tin SoiKi "J till rrisiinrr-<. Deem not, tynintp, ye have conquered, Though our sires and sons are dead. And our limbs are bound and l)leeding, We have triumphed in our Head I For the bridge and braes of BothAvell With the blood of Christ are red. But a time — t]ie time is coming, When the mosses of the West, And the dungeons of Dunnottar, And the Bass's rocky breast, Shall, upheaving, gladly usher Forth, an army of the blest. ]X9 Sing, then sing, ye solemn surges ! Shout thy thunders, mighty main ! Ours is but a light affliction. Fitting us for glory's strain, When we meet our slaughter'd kindred, With the Lamb who once was slain ! We shall rise above Dunnottar, Rise above the sounding sea ; Rise above the western moorlands, Glorious, beautiful, and free ; Meet in cloud of light the Bridegroom — None so beautiful as He ! ? j Ml •I n ! h 4 HU 1 t nl ! ^'''■1 'i i ij'^X' . 1 4 i \ i DO i^a?-/j y Amonj^ them ! — among ihei ! Unburied bones cry ; Avenge us — or like us, Faith's true martyrs die. Hew, hew down the spoiler : Slay on, and spare none : Then shout forth in gladness, Heaven's battle is won ! 200 THE BATTLE OF BOTH WELL BRIG (From Scott's Mimtrdxij of the Scotfish Border.) " O, BiLLiE, billie, bonny billie, Will ye go to the wood \vi' me ? We'll ca" our hors;^, hame masterless, An' gar them trow slain men are we." " no, no ! " says Earlstoun, " For that's the thing that manna be ; For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill, Where I maun either gae or dee." II " So Earlstoun rose in the morning, An' mounted by the break o' day ; An' he has joined our Scottish lads, As thev were marching out the way. •I Hi r q Now, farewell, father, and farewell, mother. And fare ye weel, my sisters three ; An' fare ye weel, my Earlstoun, For thee again I'll never see ! " »■;,& The Battle uf Uutlmell Brvj. 201 L 1]RIG Border.) ^ ^'^* 'f So they're ;i\va' to IJothwell Hill, An' waly they rode boniiily ! When the IHikc o' Monmouth saw them comin', He went to view their company. " Yc're welcome, lafls," the ^lonmouth said, " Ye're welcome, brave Scots lads, to me ! And sae are you, brave Earlstoun, The foremost o' your company ! " " But yield your weapons ane an' a', yield your weapons, lads, to me ; For gin ye'll yield your weapons up, Ye'se a' gae hame to your country." Out then spak' a Lennox lad, And waly but ho spoke bonnily ! '• I winna yield m\' weapon up. To you or nae uian that I see." Dthcr, \ *'«.. Then he set up the flag o' red, A' set about wi' bonny blue ; Since ye'll no cease, and be at peace, See that ye stand by ither true." They stelld their cannons on the height. And shower'd their shot down in the howe ; An' beat our Scots lads even down, Thick they lay slain on every knowe. 13 i jl (if ihc Scuttuli Covenant. "Whoso arc true and faithful unto their latest breath, Bad when the false ones wither, and greenest look in death. V H U ' \ t IH k 1 * ■i i i i 1 { iJi III. But see those forms that darkly from the distant heights appear ; That hollow sound, whence comes it, like horsemen trampling near 1 'Tis but the dark wood waving M'hcre St. John's kirk standeth lone, And that hollow tramp of horsemen is but the night- wind's moan. And ,)il is peace and sweetn ss ; the moon looks from on high On her cradled cliildren smiling with her blessed mother-eye. IV. Ah no ! 'tis not the dark wood, 'tis not the night wind's moan ; 'Tis the savage troops of Bonshaw that arc hither rushing on. The door is burst, the chamber is filled with steel-shod feet, And the aged slumbcrer shaken from his slumbers still and sweet. p-A„ , rcath, look in distant orsemen in's kirk le night- iks from blessed it wind's ^ hither tecl-shod bers still ?*3 I ' sfS CcrrjiU taken Prisoner tif Cn.-inr/fnii Hill. 20'> He looks at lirst half-wiltlcred. then meekly riscth up, And with cheerful heart prepareth to drink his ^Master's cup. V. Across the Clyde they bear him, aiul to Lanark roughly ride, While beneath the horse'?? belly hi^ lers are closely tied. And loud the jeers and laughter, and Bonshaw yells with gl^e, " A blessed day for JJonshaw, a blc.^.-icd prize to me, Six thousand merks are clinkin-; on tliat blessed saddle- tree ! " VI. By the ancient kirk at Lanark, in ihe eye of all the hills, Then spake God's ancient sorviuit, and time the word fulfils : "I t-^n theC; cruel Bonshaw, that oii high hast built thy nest, "By whom Cod's Church and people so long have been opprest, Where now ihou stand'st exulting in the greatness of thy lust, A bloody hand fi'ora thine own wild band shall strike thee to the dust. As low as thou art lordly shalt thou welter in thy blood, And this shall be ere yon ash tree again begin to bud." I : J. .'fit m 11 ill 1 i' 1' !J \ i' 1 f ( \ i - I 206 //fo;/) of the Scottish Covenant. VII. And so before that ash tree again began to bud, As low as he was lordly did he welter in his blood. A'bloody hand from his own wild band did strike him to the dust, "Where then he stood exrJting in the greatness of his lust. By the ancient kirk at Lanark was the mangled carcase laid, And the Avord icturned not empty which the godly man had said. VIII. But gently, like the streamlet that seeks the ocean's breast, Old Cargill passeth onward to his centre and his rest. Even as an aged pilgrim, who sadly toils along, Enters the city gladly at the quiet even song. IX. The wise and wakeful virgins, whose lamps were trimmed and bright, Went forth to meet the bridegroom at the midwatch of the night, And dreaded not the darkness, their lamps so clearly burned, But forth they went rejoicing, and with bridal wreaths returned. >07 od. ike him s of his carcase My man ocean's s rest. THOU HAST SWOKN BY THY GOD, MY JEANIE.* (A Covcnantefs Love-Song.) Allan Cunningham. Thou hast sworn by thy Gcd, my Jeanie, By that pretty white hand o' thine, And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, That thou wad aye be mine ! And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, And by that kind heart o' thine, By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven That thou shalt aye be mine ! ps were watch of ) clearly wreaths Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands, An' the heart that wad part sic love ; But there's nae hand can loose the band, Save the finger o' God above. Tho' the wee, wee cot, maun be my bield, An' my claithing e'er sae mean, I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' love. Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean ! * From Cromek's "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," but undoubtedly the production of Cunningham. 4. h 'l 20S Ilavii 'if f/ic ScoffisJi Core lui lit. I Her white arm wad be a pillow to mo, Fu' safter than the down, An' Love wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wini^s, An" sweetly I'd sleep an' soun'. Come here to me, thou lass o' my love, Come here and kneel wi' dig ; The morning is fu' o' the jjresence o' God, An' I canna pray but thee. The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers. The v/ee birds sing kindly an' hie, Our gude-man leans owre his kail-yard dyke, An' a blythe auld body is he. The Book maun be taen when the carle comes hame, "Wi' the holie psalmodie. An' thou maun speak o' me to thy God, An' I will speak o' thee ! t 1, fi V 'f ■I '■ 11 1 1 . i ! ^ 1 : •209 r f ' OUK FATHEKS— WH?:KE AHE THEY. William M'Comb. Ouu Fathers, where are they— the faithful and wise ? They are gone to their mansions prepared in the skies ; With the ransomed in glory, forever they sing, All worthy the Lamb, our Redeemer and King. Our Fathers, who were they ? Men strong in the Lord, Who were nurtured and fed with the milk of the Word ; Who breathed in the freedom their Saviour had given, And fearlessly waved their blue banner to heaven. • Our Fathers, how lived they ? Li fasting and prayer, Still grateful for blessing, and willing to share Their bread with the hungry, their basket and store. Their home with the homeless that came to the door. Our Fathers, where knelt they 1 Upon the green sod. And poured out their hearts to their covenant God ; And oft in the deep glen, beneath the wild sky. The songs of their Zion were wafted on high. .-%i Lil 210 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Our Fathers, how died they ? They valiantly stood The rage of the foeman, and sealed with their blood, By " faithful contendings," the faith of their sires, 'Mid tortui'es, in prisons, on scaffolds, in fires. Our Fathers, where sleep they ? Go search the wild cairn, Where the birds of the hill make their nests in the fern ; Where the dark purple heather, and bonny blue bell, Deck the mountain and moor, where our forefathers fell. :* .» 'f if f •;J| ' '•I ! • 211 THE COVENANTER'S HYMN the wild the fern ; le bell, hers fell. -% William Allan. Daring a tyrant's laws, Harried of home. All for the Covenant cause, Friendless I roam ; Better a mountain cave, Better a moorland grave, Never a priestly slave Shall I become. Safe in my rocky lair. Joyous my voice, Hunger and cold I bear, Still I rejoice ; Never a conscience-chain. Never a coward's stain Shall in my breast remain. Freedom's my choice. »r'. Hunted as human game, Shot on the heath, Many of martyr name Slumber in death ; •ll '1 212 Harp of fhc S coltish Covenant. ! from their blood sliall rise Freedom's immortal cries Till every tyrant lies Crushed by its breath. t II. Surely this glorious day Scotland shall see, When from oppression's sway Raised she shall be ; Ruler of earthly things, Keep her beneath Thy wings, Guard her from [niests and kings, Scotland ! the free. t! ^ M !13 THE MAKTYR'S GRAVE. Joiix ]\rA('FAnLANi:. Hid in the depths o' the muirlan' mists, Unvvatched on the slope o' the mountain green, The Martyr's Grave that we kent huigsyne Pleads wi' the heart in the wilds unseen ; An' the glen whaur, forfouchen an' hunted syir, He socht for a den by the roebuck's lair. Alane, on the hill-tap stern an' grey, Alane, in the fa' o' heaven's ain dew, He thocht o' the Lord and His promise guid, For the faith o' the Covenant life was true ; An' a sweet dream cam' owre his wearied sicht. Like a gleam straucht doon frae the starns' o' licht. ;,l Chased frae his hamc, an' the bairns he lo'ed, Far frae the love o' his kith an' kin, He still was leal to the grand au'd League, For he couldna bide in the tents o' sin ; An' the croun was his that the sainted wear, For it glintit aft on his broo o' care. I I* m ■ ii 214 Harj) of the Scottish Covenant. Abune was the treasure he lang had hained, Abune wi' the host o' the pure an' just, Sae he didna flee frae the 'oor o' doom, His fathers' God was his only trust ; An' his saul ta'en flicht to the realms sae blest, Tho' his shroud was a shroud o' mornin' mist. 215 THE DEATHBED OF RUTHERFORD. Mrs. Harriet Stuart JNIenteath. Tread lightly through the darkened room, for a sick man lieth there, And, 'mid the dimness, only stirs the whispered breath of prayer ; As anxious hearts take watch by turns beside the lowly bed, Where sleep the awful stillness wears that soon must wrap the dead ! to Hours hath he known of fevered pain, but now his rest is calm. As though upon the spirit worn distilled some healing balm. It may be that his dreaming ear wakes old accustomed words, Or drinks once more the matin sung of Anworth's " blessed birds ! " * if * Only I think the : parrows and swallows that huiid, ihuir !:< sts in th'j kirk of Auworth, " ble:5sed bi'(]«." — ':uT:[:;i;i-oKij's 1 ETTERS. wmmmmmmamm Ill I fl !i H f I Li' !■ 1 1 r ' 1 <: . 1 1- ! » ' .1. f ' ' 216 y/'if>;/> f>/ fJic Scottish Coveimnt. O ! green and fresh upon his soul, those early haunts arise, His kirk, his home, his wild wood walk, with all their memories ; The very rushing of the burn, by which so oft he trod, The while on eagle wings of faith his spirit met its God ! A smile hath brightened on his lip — a light around his brow. Oh ! surely, " words unspeakabh," that dreamer listeth now; And glories of the upper sky, his raptured senses steep, Blent with the whispers of His love who gives His loved ones sleep ! But hark I — a sound!— .i tramp of horse! — a loud, harsh wrangling din ! Oh ! rudely on that dream of heaven, this world hath broken in. In vain affection's earnest plea — the intruders forward press ; And with a struggling spasm of pain, he wakes to con- sciousness Strange lights ai'c streaming through the room ; strange forms are round his bed. Slowly his dazzled sense takes in each shape a:i(i sound of dread — The Dcxthhd of Ruthn/onl. \y haunts I all their t he trod, b its God ! iround his Qer listeth ises steep, His loved •1 •' False tiuitor to thy country's laws and to thy sovei'eign lord, I summon thee to meet thv doom, thou felon liuther- ford ! " Feebly the sick man raised his hand — his hand so thin and pale. And something in the hollow eye, made that rude speaker quail : " Man ! thou hast sped thine errand well ! yet is it wasted breath, Exce})t the great ones of the earth can break my try.st with death ! oud, harsh > jt I' , ¥ rorld hath rs forward kes to con- ''ti " A few brief days, or briefer hours and I am going home Unto mine own prepared place where but few great ones come. And to the judgment seat of Him, who sealed me with His seal ; 'Gainst evil tongues, and evil men, I make my last appeal ! m ; strange aiKi sound " A traitor was His name on earth ! a felon's doom His fate. Thrice welcome were my Master's cup, but it hath come too late. 14 - • '■ '■'*^ i-.rt-i'-- i'.' ;-i- .^;^'*-itJJ»^'>^^^ ailMiilB^WMIMMllrtWl t i m 'M. li.iS I' r 218 Harp of the. Scottish Covenant. The sumn^ons of that mightiest King, to whom all kings must bow, Is on me for an earlier day — is on me even now ! " I hear — I hear — the chariot wheels, that bring my Saviour nigh ; For me He bears a golden crown — a harp <^f melody ; For me He opens wide His arms — He shows His wounded side — Lord ! 'tis my paspport into lift; ! I live — for Thou hast died ! " They give his writings to the flames ; they brand his grave with shame ; A hissing in the mouth of fools becomes his honoured name ; And darkness wraps awhile the land, for which he prayed and strove, Bi;l blessed in the Lord his death, and blest his rest above ' •_>19 THE MARTYRS OF SCOTLAND. Rev. Dr. Houatius Bonak. TllKRK was gladness in Zion, her standard was flying', Free o'er her battlements glorious and gay ; , All fair as the morning shone forth her adorning, And fearful to foes was her godly array. There is mourning in Zion, her standard is lying Defiled In the dust, to the spoiler a prey ; And now there is wailing, and sorrow prevailing, For the best of her children are weeded away. The good have been taken, their place is forsaken — The man and the maiden, the green and the gray ; The voice of the weepers wails over the sleepers — The martyrs of Scotland that now are away. Tlie hue of her waters is crimsoned with slaughters, And the blood of the martyrs has reddened the clay ; And dark desolation broods over the nation. For the faithful are perished, the good are away. •220 Harp ' ^ 1.1 i H Ring out, my harp, o'er scenes like these — ring out thy loftiest strain. In memory of those who dared for God's cause to be slain. '' !■ ■ t- f u 'ir 4 ll 226 7/(r/7> of the Scottish Covenant. Tell of the Covenanting times, when Scotland boldly thrust Those cursed chains beneath her feet, and trod them in the dust. Praise to the Covenanters' God, to whom all praise is due, That Bibles now in every hand are seen the country through. And praise be to His holy name, that ever men were found To beard the brutish Roman beast and smite him to the ground. U ft •. 1 1 1 1 1 'i 1 1 lj IW ". I I -.JU, oo- THE LAND OF THE MAUTYKS. Rkv. James G. Sjiall. I SAID my harp should sleep for aye — flung by — a use- less thing : I said that thou, my joyous muse, must curb thine eager wing ; I said that I must onward ])ress, my pilgrim path along, Nor cheer me, as in days gone by, with the glad voice of song. Vain thought for him who strays alone o'er this wild martyr land ! I feel a spell upon me here I may not dare withstand. If on thesr scenes that stretch around mine eye unmoved should look, The murmuring streams would speak to me with sadly mild rebuke. For sdll they seem to whisper, as they sweep their pebbled bed, The names of those who here, of old, for Jesus lived and bled ; t i * ^ ii m I f if ! i4:, i: r < ' t I (: ■ 1 j s §H f ^ 1 ,t M 1 1 1 ■\ 228 i/(/r^) r;/ //ic Scottish Covenant. And still they seem to image, in their pure and peace- ful flow, The holy lives of those who dwelt beside them long ago. Each rock and ca*e, each woody holm, preserves their memory still. There stands for them a monument in every rugged hill; And yet along the mountain side a lingering echo floats Where oft of old their song of praise sent up its joyful notes. The old familiar voices upon the breezes come, And while all Nature speaks aloud, shall man alone be dumb ? Ah ! no ; nor is his voice unheard — the same rejoicing strain That gladdened on ^ the wilderness, is thrilling there again. 'Tis heard by Renwick's simple tomb, amid the green Glencairn, 'Tis heard amid the heathy wilds of long and drear Carsphairn ; 'Tis heard beside the silvery Ken, and by the banks of Ayr, Where Welsh and Guthrie raised of old the voice of praise and prayer. I I l iii U..ll ' U" l l «.'H The Laud of llw M'lrfyr; 229 'Tis heard where lie the bones of hiin ^ who lived to preach and pray, And died with prayer upon his lips amid the bloody fray ; 'Tis heard where pours the winding Xith, and sweops the placid Dec ; It mingles with the voice of streams, and with the sounding sea. 'Tis heard beside the lude grey stones, t where oft, in days of old, The holy convocation met, the sacred feast to held : Green Anwoth's X heights have heard afar the same triumphant song, And all the echoing rocks around the hallowed strain prolong. 'Tis heard where'er the memory lives of those whose blood was shed Like water in the glorious cause of Christ, their living Head — Where'er a fearless heart shakes off the world's debasing bonds, And to the known, the thrilling voice of Christ, the King, responds. * Cameron, of whom it was said ttiat lie " lived preaching and jji'aying, and died praying and tighting." t The comi-.anion stones at Irongray. X Where Rutherford was for some time minister. i \ 1 ' •J 30 Harp of the bcoitish Covenant. 'Tis licard from thousand voices now of stedfast men and true, Wliere once the scattered remnant met — the faithful but the few, And still more loud that strain shall swell, thou^^^h hand should join in hand, From moor to hill, from hill to shore, to drive the dauntless band. I I '! il Vain ^houtrht that they whose breasts were warmed with blood of martyred sires Whose song of praise, unsilenced rose, 'mid tortures, chains, and fires, Should shrink because the tempest-gloom hangs louring o'er their path, Or quail before the ruder storm of mf\n's relentless wrath ! i-t A'"ain thought that they Avhose eyes are fixed in confidence and love On Him who deigned to leave for them His glorious home above. And for the joy before Him set, such bitter anguish bore, Should fear to tread the roughest way which He has trod before ! f I The Land of th.<: Mmii/rs 231 Ah ! no ; where'er the Shepherd leads, the trusting sheep will go — Rejoicing still to follow Him, because His voice they know ; And pleasant is the path to them though rugged oft it be, Where yet the footsteps of the flock a traced along the lea. I I I i?f . i 232 THE MARTYR'S PROPHECY Marion Paul A hid. HI "A BixiDY sword for Scotland!" a Wuidy, bluidy sword, \Yhen her lion tramples in the dust the banner of the Lord ; When her sheep are scattered o'er the hills, her prayers on the breeze, And Israel harigs her broken harp upon the willow trees. "A biuidy sword for Scotland!" — dark nights of trouble haste, Wh'^n her Father's house is desolate, her pleasant things laid waste, \Yhen the holy place is burned with fire — and clouds of judgment dire Make dim the golden candlesticks, that bear her spirit- fire. " A bluidy sword for Scotland ! " when floods of war shall come, And separate in bloodless strife the father and the son ; i! The Martijf^ Proplucij. 233 The shepherd in the pasture fold must leave his bleat- ing sheep, His children wander from the hearth, in homeless want to weep. '"A bluidy sword for Scotland ! " when truth in dust shall hide. The faithful in the furnace be like gold and silver tried, Till walking forth, thro' seven fires, His image pure they bear ; In terror like a bannered host— in light, a sunshine fair. When Justice on the throne of kings shall whet her glittering sword. When marshall'd hosts shall lift, on high the standarci of the Lord ; To write anew her covenant those witness-clouds shall come, As doves unto their windows Hock, the faithful gather home. When her watchmen shall anoint the shield, and gird them for the fight, And blow the Mnimpet thro' the land, to war against the night. When the dragon tearoth in his wrath the " Plant of high Renown," And pilfers troni the " Prince of Peace " the jewels of His ci'own. 1" pi ■' .' ( ) j: s i 1 i H ' ; 1 15 1^ It 234 u I THE MAKTYKDO.M OF JOHN BKOWN Hugh Brown. i lii (i i 1 List to the tale of one who faultless fell, Whose humble tombstone decks the moorland dell. Far on the moor his lonely cot was placed, A rude unpolished gem upon the waste. The smoke curled lonely, 'mid the air on high A moment hung and melted in the sky ; AVhere the brook miumured, and the mountain frowned Through the far-sti etching wilderness around ; The wild winged denizens of ether sung ; The shepherd on the breeze his music flung ; The sweet toned melody of nature there, Thrilled in sweet carols through the summer air. The peaceful inmates of that humble hearth, Lived like primeval dwellers of the earth — Summer had smiles that charmed the lingering hour, With winds perfumed from moss and mountain flower. Cloud, sunshine, stream, the daisy on the sod, Raised their unbiassed hearts in praise to God, When winter swathed the land with unstained snow, It came the type of holiness l)v3low ; The Marfi/rdoni of J'lhn -BrowiK 235 When the unfettered tempest, high and strong, Rocked the lone cottage as it swept along. Trusting in Him who guides the storm's career, 'Twas God's own music to the listening ear. Cast on the troubled waters of the time, When prayer was treason, piety a crimi; ; When persecution raised her red right hand To crush the germ of freedom through the land ; Then oft that cottage light, though faint and far, Shone to the wanderer, as the guiding star Snines to the sailor on a stormy sea, Beaming with hope of happiness to l»e. Summer's first morn had dawned up :,n the wild, And nature 3 fair and lovely features smiled, When pious Brown, with day's first beam arose, A.nd called his slumbering children from repose. They gathered round the cottage hearth, to raise The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise, The holy untaught melody of the heart, Dearer to heaven than all the pomp of art. Unheard by human ear the cadence dies. Its last faint murmurs mingling with the skies. He read of Love, from Mercy's hallowed Book, Felt in his heart, and glowing in his look : Hoping, exulting o'er the promise given, That brightened weeping hours with hopes of heaven ; 23G Harp uf till' >'i'uffish Conndnt. k ii« ■#) Knelt with his children at the eternal throne, And pleaded with a fervour not his own ; Iheathed, from a holy heaven-born influence given, The language of a spirit fit for heaven ; His soul entranced with high devotion's glow, Foigot he was a sufferer here below — When lo ! a shriek ! the startled echoes rang With neighing war-ntecds, and the warrior's clang Woke him to earth, and drew him from the sky. To clasp his weeping family and die. l^irm in the spirit of liis prayer he stood, Eesigned, yet fearless ; calm, but unsubdued. "Prepare ! " the dark and fierce avenger cried ; "Prepare ! " his language, in his hour of pride. K The good man knelt upon the flowery heath, Soon to be crimsoned with the tide of death ; His farewell prayer of triumph and repose ; Heaven's glories dawning o'er his earthly woes, In the true martyr's spirit, plead with heaven, His death, his country's wrongs, might be forgiven, And more than angel's eloquence imparts — It touched the tearless soldiers' iron hearts ; And pity checked that daik and bloody horde, Save one — the bosom of their savage lord. The martyr rose, with calm, unruffled breast. Like one prepared for everlasting rest. His weeping little ones were clustereil near ; I- 1' The Martiinldm of John llmrn 237 He kissed each child, and dropped a parting tear ; A long farewell breathed to his faithful wife ; And nature for a moment clung to life ! When loud and high the leader's stern command Rose fierce, but vain, above that bloody band. Though stain'd with slaughter's darkest, foulest hue, No arm was raised, no death-winged bullet flew. The ruthless Clavers raised his hand on high. Rage in his heart, and mockery in his eye ; A moment—and the martyred hero lay Redeemed with blood ; his soul had passed away ! From death and insult springing to a throne, The guilt his foe's, the triumph all his own. The Theban mother gloried in her son. Borne on his shield, from battle he had won ; The peasant's wife, far on the Scottish moor. With none to soothe, did heavier grief endure ; The Christian matron, to her nature true, Leaned o'er her slaughtered lord, and triumphed too. .1 I" ill ■ill i Job r3i I I. I I «M i ; 1 i ^•l i I il I 1^ d FEDEX'S r K A Y E U . llEV. William Wye Smith. The Covenant is down, and a dastard wears the crown, And Scotland with a frown, bears her feiters as she may ;— And the sun looks down between auld Xithsdale's hills of green, AVhere Cameron's grave is seen by the pilgrim on his way. His was the rapid course of the torrent from its source, The more we see its force, it the sooner meets the sea ; For young his crown was won, and soon his race was run, And many a weary one with the Martyr fain would be! And years had come and gane, since the day the martyrs slain (No more at Sanquhar's stane, but before the King on High !) Had the Covenant renewed, they had solemn sealed in blood, And in victors' robes had stood in the assembly of the skv. Fi'den's Prayrr. 239 And there amang the heather — his thin hands clasped together, And his weary glance up thither where the paths of victory lie — And pleading for release, is Peden on his knees. And, " to be wi' Ritchie ! " is the burden of his cry. The mountain-mist and snows had been sent to blind his foes, And when his cry uprose he was heard yet once again ; And the prayer his faith had spoken, received an answering token. When the golden bowl was broken, and the Saint forgot his pain ! ['S .! 240 PATRICK LAIXG. Alexander Anderson ('■'■Surfaceman.") t ;i-! Thk deid sleep soun' in the auld kirkyaird, At the fit o' the hills sae steep ; They dream sweet dreams aneath the swaird, An' lang an' still is their sleep : The whaup comes doon wi' an eerie cry, An' the peesweep flaps a' day, But thev canna wauken the deid that lie, At rest in their shrouds o' clay. The grass grows lang, an' waves at the heid An' fit o' each sunk thrauch stane ; " Oh ! waes me ! " it sighs " for the faithfu' deid, That canna come back again." Then the win's tak' ^' ;ip, an' they cry to me As I lie on the grassy swaird : " We had ane wha kent hoo to live an' dee, An' he sleeps in the auld kirkyaird." For when hate like a clud hung ower the land, For the faith his fathers knew, He took to the hills wi' the sword in his hand. To fecht for the gude an' the true ; ratrkk Laimj. An' when the storm o' his life grew still, They laid him doon to his rest, In the auld kirkyaird at the fit o' the hill, Wi' the green swaird on his breast. An' w^hat tho' nae stane can be seen at his held, There is Ane Avha dwells abune That kens o' his grave where the grasses wave, Wi' its kindly heart within ; An' when at the last the trumpet blast Shall bid the heavens be bared, Then God will keep min' o' that ae leal heart, That sleeps in the auld kirkyaird. •241 |y >1 242 P ED EN'S GRAVE.* John Veitch, LL.D. '•5 I ijfl m k hi' f C ( * I ■ i I i I Long were his troubles, nnd watchings o' night, Wrestlings till grey o' the morn. At last from death-couch on the moor, To the kirkyard tenderly borne. By Lugar side low he was laid, Lovingly happed with the sod ; From earth they asked nought but a grave, His spirit at rest with his God ! * The prophet-preacher was tirst laid in the churchyard of Auohinleck in the Laird's Aisle. After six weeks his body was taken up, and thence carried ur dragged by a party of dragoons to the place of pul)lic execution on a hill near the adjoining vill- age of Cumnock, wJiere it was re-interred "out of contempt." The following is the inscription on his tomb in Cumnock church- yard : — " Here lies Mr. Alexander Peden, Faithful Minister of the Gospel, sometime of Glcnluce, who departed this mortal life the 26th of January, 168(5, and was raised after six weeks out of the graiof, and buriod here out of contempt. Momento Mori." Tlie people of Cumnock, who had formerly buried in the churchyard round the Church, in the hollow where the village stands, abandoned their ancient burial-place, and formed a new one on the Gallows Hill, enclosing in it Peden's Grave. Within the rails that surround the preacher's tomb lie the remains of the Covenanters, David Dun, and Simon Paterson, v/ho were both shot on the spot where they are buried. Two hawthorn trees grow above the graves. — John Veitch, l'idiii';< Grure. Hut out of God's acre hate tore him, Out of the sacred kirkyard, No rest there for God's own elect, The phice of crime his award. ■1V.\ Through Lugar's deep woods he was borne Birds hushed their carolling, As onwards the ghastly shudder crept, — Dead face through the leafy Spring ! They have dragged him on up the brae, To a hole 'neath the Gallows IVee ; There to lie and rot in contempt, — r the place of shame aye to be ! Yes ! wreak your poor hate on the corpse. No doubt the work's to your will ! The soul's might is too high for your scope. Or the martyr spirit to still ! Ye ne'er scrupled to quench a man's life, Or hack the corpse with the sword. No more would have spared the dead Christ, The face of the crucified Lord ! Think you, have you power o'er the man, Who degrade the mortal form ? \\ f} I 1 244 Jfarp of the Scotfiah Covenant. Arc ye deaf to a people's murmuring, That swells to the sweep of a storm 1 ur m I I n I 5 Cavaliers, forsooth ! Cavaliers ! Proud in your mindless might ! For order, for law, for the King ? How stand you there in God's sight ? Can we hope hearts like yours will e'er learn That conscience and freedom are things ^^'hich in Union make noblest law, Whence alone true order springs ? Think ! no more in the old graveyard Will any one bury his dead ! They carry them high to the Gallows Hill, And lay them there at his head ! Love seals with the silence of death, Whence hate sought to blast his name ; Hearts are drawn to the Saint lifted up Christlike in the glory of shame ! Mute Nature e'en yearns o'er the spot Earth and heaven their offerings bring, The hawthorn grows green o'er his sod, It blesses with sweet blossoming. •Ji: THE ( " \ E N A X T E K ' S L A M E N T John Stuart Blackik O WALY waly up the glen, And waly waly o'er the moor 1 The land is full of bloody men, AVho hunt to death the friendless i^oov ! We brook the rule of I'obbers wild ; They tear the sun from his father's lands, They tear the mother from her child, They tear the IJible from our hands ! i t ■a I '.1 Last night, as I came o'er the moor, And stood upon the grey hill-crown, I saw the red flames rise wi' power Frae the lone house o' Alik Brown. The godless grim dragoons were there, And Clavers spake, that swearing loon, " So burn the nest, so smoke the lair Of all that dare to think wi' Brown ! " I: O blessed Lord, who rnl'st in Heaven, Who preached Thy gospel to the poor, i I I *•» i i i ill 1 i i i 24() Harp of the IScofllsh Curcunnt. How long shall Thy best friends be driven Like hunted hares from moor to moor ? Arise, Lord; Thy saints deliver, This land from ruthless despots free ! 'Neath wintry skies we sit o'.id shiver, But times of jiladncss come from Thee. f m i v ^. 1 1 % 'l^ J i 1 i Ik I '2r> BOTH WELL L li I G . James Hogg (The Ettrick Shepherd) " Oh what is become o' your leal good man, That now you are a' your lane ? If he has join'd wi' the rebel gang, Yoii will never see him again 1 " " Oh say nae * the rebel gang,' ladye ; It's a term nae heart can thole, For them wha rebel against their God, It is justice to control. " When rank oppression rends the heart, And rules wi' stroke o' death, Wha wadna spend their dear heart's blood For the tenets o' their faith 1 \ I 3 >\l " Then say nay ' the rebel gan;;,' lalye, For it gics me mucklc pain ; My John went away with Lailstoii, And I'll never soe either a;^ain." •248 Harp iif the Scotthh Covenant. i I,. ■ I' i ■ I'M- '^ - HI 'I ir if I " Oh wae is my heart for thee, Janet, Oh sair is my heart for thee ! These Covenant men were ill advised ; They are fools, you may credit me." " Where's a' their boastfu' preaching now Against their kit'.g and law, When moiiy a head in death lies low, And mony mae maun fa' 1 .' n " " Ay,'^but death lasts no for aye, ladye, For the grave maun yield its prey ; And when wo meet on the verge of heaven, We'll sec wha are fools that day : " We'll see wha looks in their Saviour's face With holiest joy and pride, Whether they who shed His servants' blood, Or those who for Him died. " I wadna be the highest dame That ever this country knew. And take my chance to share the doom Of that persecuting crew. " Then ca' us na ' rebel gang,' ladye, Nor take us fools to be, Bothwell Brig. 249 For there isna ane o' a' that gang Wad change his state wi' thee." " Oh, weel may you be, my poor Janet, May blessings on you combine ! The better you are in either state. The less shall I repine ; " But wi' your fightings and your faith, Your ravings and your rage, Ihere you have lost a leal helpmate In the blossom of his age. «' And what's to come o' ye, my poor Janet, Wi' these twa ba' ies sweet ? Ye hac naebody now to work for them. Or bi ng you a meal o' meat ; " It is that which makes my heart sae wae, And gars me, while scarce aware, Whiles say the things I wadna say 0' them that can err nae mair." Poor Janet kissed her youngest babe, And the tears fell on his cheek, And they fell upon his swaddling bands, For her heart was like to break. i6 * I li.. ■P ft Sl ( i*'l 250 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. " Oh, little do I ken, my dear, dear babes, What misery's to be mine ! But for the cause we hae espoused, I will yield my life and thine. " Oh, had I a friend, as I hae nane— For nane dare own me now — That I might send to Bothwell Brigg, If the killers wad but allow, «' To lift the corpse of my brave John ; I ken where they will him find ; He wad meet his God's foes face to face, And he'll hae nae wound behind." " But I went to Bothwell Brigg, Janet- There was nane durst hinder me — For I wantit to hear a' I could hear. And to see what I could see ; " And there I found your brave husband, As viewing the dead my lane. He was lying in the very foremost rank In the midst o' a heap o' slain." Then Janet held up her hands to heaven, And she grat, and she tore her hair : Botlmell Brig. " O, sweet ladye, 0, dear ladye, Dinna tell me ony mair ! " There is a hope will linger within, When earthly hope is vain ; But, when ane kens the very worst, It turns the heart to stane ! " *' ' Oh, wae is my heart, John Carr,' said I, * That I this sight should see ! ' But when I said these waef u' words, He liftit his een to me : 251 i( < Oh, art thou there, my kind ladye, The best o' this warld's breed, And are you ganging your leefu' lane Araang the hapless dead 1 ' ii! " * I hae servant within my ca', John Carr, And a chariot in the dell, And if there is ony hope o' life, I will carry you hame mysel'.' /rs' Grare><. Like promise-stars in heaven's eye, The lyart and the leal Sleep lonely by the heath-bound tarn, Where eerie cries the teal. 257 1 ,1 ■I i 1 Their prophet-mantles rolled in blood, By tribulation riven, From Scotland's ark drove back the Hood «• That chased them up to heaven." Where Peden bold, in flood and fold. On mountain, moor, or glen, All seer-like, bore salvation's cup To fainting martyr-men ; When heaven's brooding wing of love. Like Israel's pillar-cloud. Them lapped in nature's misty tent, A prayer-woven shroud. Their home was oft the mountain cave. Their couch the waving fern ; Their pillow oft the grey moss stone. In moorlands dark and stern. t 'Mid bleatings of the mountain lamb. The melody of rills, ^L-^vasxatsvx'ji 258 Harp of the Scottish Coccnant. The moss-hag, 'mid the purple blooms Deep in the heathy hills ; The old cairn, where the plover wails, And fern or thistle waves, 'Mid green spots in the wilderness — There seek the martyrs' graves. I ', ; 259 ' I JOHN FRAZER.* I .1 John Stuart Blackie. JuHN Frazer was a pious man, Who dwelt in lone Dalquhairn, Where huge hills feed the founts of Ken, 'Twixt Sanquhar and Carsphairn. King Charles, he was a despot fell ; » With harlots and buffoons He filled his court, and scoured the hills With troopers and dragoons. One night in bleak December, When snow was drifting down, John Frazer sat by his ingle-side With his guid wife Marion. I I a Tramp, tramp ! — Who's there 1 — "Tis they, Heaven ! The Devil's own errand loons ! * This ballad of characteristic humour is printed with correc> tions specially made for this collection by its distinguished author. 260 Harp of the Scottish Covenant, They've lifted the latch, and there they stand, Six striding stark dragoons ! They bound his arms and legs with thongs. As hard as they were able ; Then took him where their horses stood, And locked him in the stable. Then back to the house they came, and bade The sorrowful guidwife pour The stout brown ale— for well they knew She kept a goodly store. The guidwife was a prudent dame. The stout brown ale brought she ; They filled and quaffed, and quaffed and filled, And talked with boisterous glee. And many an ugly oath they swore, That made the guidwife turn pale ; But she smoothed her face with a decent grace, And still she poured the ale. Then up and spake the first dragoon. Now mount and grip the reins, boys ! It suits not well that a bold dragoon Should drink away his brains, boys ! ■■< -'I John Frar.er. Then up they rose, and, with an oath, Went reeling to the stable ; Their steeds bestrode, and off they rode As fast as they were able. With lamp in hand the guidwife rose And to the stable ran, And looked, and looked, till in a nook She found her own gnidraan ! Eftsoons she brought a huge sharp knife. And cut the thongs in tway ; " Now run, guidraan, and save thy life ! They'll be back by break o' day ! " And off he ran, like a practised man— For oft for his life ran he — And lurked in the hills, till God cast down King Charles and his company. And lived to tell, when over the wave Went James with his Popish loons ; How God by stout brown ale did save His life from the drunk dragoons. 2G1 S:,*«*«!S**1««'-ii*.-*«»SSN(l«i«fc«>^*'W>--r 262 i i. li: BALLAD OF THE NEW M N K L A N D M A K T Y li . Janet Hajiilton. DucJHTKii PEt;(^,Y sat on the kiln, An' watch'd owre her faither's life, For he had been at Both'ell bi'g, An' joined in the blaidy strife. They socht him air, they socht l^m I'.te, Four lang years an' a day. But ne'er cou'd fin' the hidin'-place Whare John o' the Staun he lay. Aye she span at her rock o' tow. An' twirl'd her spin'le free — Aye she leukit owre muir an' moss To see what she micht see. For faither aft cam' till the hoose. An' gat him warm'd an' fed. An' fain was he to streek him doun, An' rest him in his bed. Ballad of Hie Neto Monklaml Marfi/r. 263 Dochter Peggy sat on the kiln, An', ere she was aware, Cam' ridin' roun' Pinwinnie wud Sax black dragoons, an' mair. " O ! faither, faither, rin for life," She cried, an' forth he sprang ; The black dragoons rode to the door, An' swords an' bridles rang. They saw him makin' for the moss- Wow, but he ran wi' speed. They fired, an' cut the siller saughs That tremil't owre his head. They durstna ride intil the bog That shoogit aneath their feet ; He dern'd him in a black moss hag, For houkin' oot the peat. Whan mony a day had come an' gane. An' cam' nae mair dragoons, An' John had maistly tint the fear 0' the black an' bluidy loons : " My bairns are wee, my grun' lies lea, My girnel's toom o' meal," ;iSiM**w!i»* ■• *r^.iik*r.,im^. v^.snSt"**^:'' 264 Hdvp of the Scottish Covenant. I Quo' John, " an' I wad yoke the pleugh, Gif I durst gang a-fiel' v » He gaed a-fiel', he yokit the pleugh— AVae worth that wearifu' day ! For word has gane to the black dragoons In Embro' whare they lay. They watched a' nicht in Pinwinnie wud, An' saw John come a-fiel' ; Twa o' them slippit oot on fit, An' ahint his back did steal. Stark an' Strang they grippit his arms, An' swith the rest cam' on. Syne trailed they oot frae 'tween the stilts Oor guid an' godly John. Docbter Peggy stood on the kiln, An' turned her roun' an' roun'— The sicbt she saw gaed thro' her heart Wi' a deep an' deadly stoun. An' aye sha skreighed, an' aye she ran, Wi' feet a' bluidy an' bare ; rhey rave her oot her faithers airms, An' harled her by the hair. Ballad of the Naw Monldand Martyr. Mither an' bairns were sleepin' soun', An' nocht kenned they ava, Till Peggy stachered on the floor, An' swarfin' doun did fa'. 265 An', lang ere she cou'd tell her tale, The faither was att" an' awa' ; An' that dear wife an' bairnies wee He saw nae mair ava. % They lowsed a horse frae oot the pleugh, An' set him on its back- - Aneath the belly tied his feet, An' garred the sinnins crack. They carried him to Embro' toun, An' pat him in the jail, An' weel he kenned that he bond dee Ere lang, withootin' fail. An' there they set him to be tried Before the men o' bluid ; The holy peace that filled his saul They little unnerstude. He said he Vvas at Both'ell brig, An' there he bare a sword, 17 u ■rt)«-?'l(«Hp^?»n' ^ 266 Harp of iJi<' Scottish Covenant. An' he wad dae the like again For Christ, his blessed Lord. : ^i Pi They speered at hin .n •/ v a- s i <■■ O' Sharpe, the b; :.op's d.ah 's He said, the killer K.. kAUA The Lord sail judge cten ^aith. r ■>'! it They bade him pray for guid King Jamv.o, His sovereign lord and king ; He said it was nae place for prayer, Or ony sic-like thing. An' sae they passed the doom o' death On John ; an' he maun dee, An' hing afore the aul' tolbooth, High on the gallow« tree. An' ither twa studo wi' him thoi^, Their sentence was the sann^ ; Great was their j^\Y to gi'e their li\ os For Christ, His blesse^i name. An' whan they were brv>ch; cot to dee, John first imd doun his lite, Commendin* w«vl his saul to Oovi, An' ^« his bairns an' wife. II Ballad of the New Monkland Martijr. 267 In saxteen-aughty-three hi died — John Whitelaw was his name ; The Monklan' martyr he was ca'd — The farm o' Staun his hame. .^■^■'"^':' ■ ■■'■^miifmmmf*^--^i'' '"•r 268 THE MARTYRS' WIDOWS Robert Allan. Sit down, sit down by your martyrs' grave, And I will sit by mine, And mourn for your kind and godly man. And I will mourn for mine. 'I It's wae to thee, and it's wae to me, For our happy days are gane, And we maun sit wi' a tearfu' e'e In our bourach ha' alane. O, Scotland ! Scotland ! it's wae to thee. When thy lichts are ta'en awa' ; And it's wae ! and it's wae to a sinfu' land When the righteous sae maun fa'. It was a holy covenant vow We made to heaven to keep, And it is a' for our broken covenant vow. That we maun sit and weep. The Martyrs JFidoivs. The gerse may be green on yon bonnie^hill tap, And the heather sweetly bloom, But there nae mair will we sit at e'en, For our hearts are in the tomb ! The hectic glow is upon my cheek, And the lily hue on thine, And sune will ye sleep by your martyr's side, And sune will I sleep by mine ! 2G9 -yimiottmmmmiiy- mst •i70 M AUTYKI.AN I). (E.dracl.) John Stkutiikks. Author of " Th' Poor MaiCn Hahlndh." llow wide tho liui(l8C!ii)c'H wondrous 9t,rotch, That, oyo may .scan, tliat hand may skclch- I'^om lofty Allan's hi^h peaked brow, Td where Kintyie shuts up tho view. And faintly glimmering through tho haze, Like isles sea-girt, their heads they raise, Mountains on mountains, towering vast. Along tho soa-indented coast. From sounding Macrahanish, far Into tho wastes of wild Braemar, From the soft west, whore sweetly smile. The hills of Cowal and Argylo ; By Drymen's bare and rugged dells. And by the Lennox lovely fells ; liy tho bleak Shotts, and dimly seen With Tinto's towering heights between, The weary Pontlands, sad to see, Still weeping wounded Liberty, With shield cub through and banner torn, Mil 1 1 III ''I mi 271 Left on tlicru in h(3r )»I(t(»'l to rnoiirn, While hav hcHt fri ^,^ ^/^ T Photographic Sciences Cor^xDmtion 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 tv <«• ^ ^ > II !*(':! u 272 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Thee, Bothwell, can I pass, nor yield A tear to thy ill-fated field, Where valour came, but wisdom not, And common prudence was forgot ; Where fell the banner of the just. And truth was trampled in the dust, Yet time has each external trace Erased of all this foul disgrace, And, Bothwell, o'er thy peaceful river, Thy banVs bloom green and fair as ever. i There every rock, and stream, and tree, Has its wild lay of liberty. Inlaid by law, whose sacred charters. Embalmed are with the blood of martyrs ; The savour of whose gracious names The ardour of our zeal inflames. Like themj supremely to regard " The recompense of the reward ; ' The grace that in the present lies, To be revealed, when sun and skies. And earth, and sea, one destined day. Like morning clouds have passed away. ffi » I 273 A BALLAD OF THE COVENANT.* John MacFarlank. When the hinmaist whaup had vanished, Ghaist-like, frae the lanesome glen, And the mirk o' nicht had fauldit In its wab the ways o' men ; Then to Auchensauch in silence, Frae the muirlan' bields aroon, Crap, fu' blythe, the huntit Remnant, Stern an' leal for Kirk an' Croon. Licht o' fit, an' braid an' buirdly, Cam' the sacred tryst to seek, Age, wi' lyart haffets, tellin' O' a life sae bare an' bleak ; Cam' to seal the chart o' freedom, Wi' their blude it micht hae been, Owre the blooms o' wavin' heather, 'Mang the breckan dells sae green. I '1 * Auchensauch, referred to in these verses, is a lonely bill in the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire, where at a night-gathering on one occasion the Solemn League and Covenant was signed by the Covenanters of the district. .ajtfjjiarr"'^-- ■I 1 274 Harp of the Scottish Cuveiuint. Ne'er a soun' to breck the stillness, Xocht the cark o' wae to tell, But belyve the weest burnie Sabbin' sairly to its sel' — Sabbin' o' the scaith o' Scotlan', And her heavy dree o' wrang, Bendin' laich her pride o' manhood, Jaggin' like an ethert's stang. Croonin' sweetly o' the martyrs, Hamert, plaid, an' bannet blue ; Ane by ane they wandered heicher On the lanely mountain's broo. Scene sae solemn an' sae stately, In the e'enin' dusk an' grey, Spak' o' mair than a' the pageants O' the gowden-lichtit day. — Spak' o' mair than a' the battles That a conqueror may boast, Warld's gear an' knichtly honour, Rank in mist o' ages lost ; Spak' the wife an' bairnie grievin', Blichted hame an' puirtith's blast, Whispered o' a " balm in Gilead," And a diadem at last. A Ballad of the Curavird. Saftly *neath the banner tioated Liltin's o' the e'enin' psalm, Mournfu' wi' the sough o' sorrow, In the bonny lown sae calm ; An' the weary cry o' anguish Crap athort the faulds o' nicht. Syne the heavens abune seemed open'd, Syne the darkness filled wi' licht. Leal their faith in Him they trusted, Bauldly frae the buchted glen. In the stillness o' the gloamin'. Gathered still the muirlan' men ; Signed the Solemn League an' Covenant, Wi' their blude it micht hae been, 'Mang the blooms o' wavin' heather. And the breckan dells sae green. 275 '^iBtes^rr^srT^:' ■ff— I * I 276 THE SIGNING OF THE "SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT" ON A FLAT TOMB- STONE IN GREYFRIARS' CHURCHYARD, EDINBURGH. Thomas C. Latto. Imagination sees the parchment white, While crowds of patriots, brave, but silent, flock, Despite of courtiers' taunt and royal mock, On its thrice-noble page their names to write. There signed Mac Callumore, the great Argyll, And there, Montrose,* so soon to be his foe — The peaceful plume changed for the sword of woe. There, Hugh MacKail, with his sweet boyish smile ! Oh ! God, that such atrocities should be, For such adversity Thy dear ones born ; That those who only sought to worship Thee In truth, should limb from limb be hacked and torn Old tomb-stone, mute, and making no reply, I gaze upon thee with a watery eye. * Montrose, it is said, always denied that he signed the second " Solemn League and Covenant." 277 THE COVENANTER'S CLOVER, Anna Knox. Are these indeed the stains of blood, The blood of our forefathers, Around whose memory the love Of all broad Scotland gathers 1 Did the green leaves drink in some drops, When shot down, bleeding, dying. The Covenanter's life flowed out Upon the clover lying ? Mere fancy, say you ? Be it so. The dear name sets me thinking Of a dark period when this land A bitter cup was drinking. When Scotland's bravest would not yield To will and rule unholy, And faced the bullet, sword, and rope. Of tyranny and folly. 278 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Stern were they 1 Yes, the times were stern, The heel of persecution Was crushed down on their holiest rights With sternest resolution. Who can their wrongs recall unmoved, Or wond'ring admiration Withhold from patience so sublime ? Such faith ! such resignation ! Harried and hunted, tortured, slain, Eebels and traitors branded ; Their holy lives, their saintly deaths. Their righteous cause commended. From caves (alas, poor sleeping rooms !) Lone hills and moorland dreary, (Cold, cheerless habitations for Heads shelterless and weary). From plundered homes, from distant shores, Whence banished ones look yearning ; From dens and dungeons where they lay, The task of " waiting " learning. From drowning waves, 'neath gibbet grim. For Zion prayer ascended ; m Thf Coremnfcr's Clover. Nor sought they vengeance on their foes, But grace to th'^m extended. The solitudes they walked among, Their wandering footsteps hallowed ; The mention of their names shall aye With honour due be followed. The seed they sowed for long has borne The fruit of peace and gladness ; And we with wonderment look back On their oppressors' madness. And so these leaves, reminders dear, With reverent lips I cover, And place within the sacred page The Covenanter's Clover. 279 l. . l,W>.»<. 280 f -' M 1 1 'f ' LAMENT OF THE COVENANTER'S WIDOW. Baroness Nairne. O WEET and weary is the nicht, Wi' soughin' win' and rain, ; An' he that was sac true to me, Is on the hillside slain, ! O that the hand that did the deed. Had lain me where he's lyin'. The green turf owre my peacefu' head, The nicht winds roun' me sighin'. But I maun hear an' I maun grieve. An' I maun thole the morrow ; This heart's no made o' flesh and bluid. It winna break with sorrow. What's a' this gaudy warld to me ? I canna bide the glare o't ; gin it werejthe High Degree, That I micht see nae mair o't. For he had ta'en the Covenant For Scotland's sake to dee, O, Death to him was gain, we ken, But, oh[! the loss to me, ! >* aSMum mi VfS ff^ f . * !S1 THE CO VEX ANTE US. Gkoik;!', Pat [.ink. Can Scotland's son, who uiicontioUed, may climb the heathery steep, Gaze scornfully where i^uards the cairn her martyrs' blood-buught sleep, And say, "A fanatic lies hero;" and Avith a pitying smile, Descant on mad enthusiasts — the ignorant, ilie vile '/ Enthusiasts I — by the freeman's step, that treads on Scottish strand ; By the pure faith that s.incLilies the altars of the land ; By hymns of praise, at morn and eve, nuawed by fear or shame. Poured from our peaceful haiidot homes — still honoured be the name ! If on the plains where W.dlajc luught, the patriot's bosom swell, xVnd the bold Switzer drops a tetr ui)on the grave of Tell, i8 ii^:^-M'A^gigri'ii'i*^*jijftg||ijlti^...-.?jj it ^ 2H2 Harp of tlir Scot fish Coveimnf. Shall Scotland with irreverent eye, behold the wild flowers wave Above the mound, once stained with blood, her covenant heroes' grave ? They sleep where, in a darker day, by dreary moss and fen, Their blood bedewed the wild heath-flower in many a Scottish glen ; \Mien forced to fioe their humble homes, for Scotlaiul's Covenant Luid, They grasped, to save their holiest rights, the ]]ible and the sword. They rest in peace — the enthusiasts ! — who unreluctant flung To earth the proffered gold, and scorned the lure of courtly tongue. They rest in peace, who knew no rest when with loud curses driven, And hunted 'mid the wintry fells, and reft of all but heaven. Enthusiasts I — would the proudly wise, who flings his scorn and sneer On graves and names long hallowed by the patriot's love and tear — ^■U- The Coii'tKiiif'/.-: '2^:\ Would he, when fleams in iiinuni ami vale the por-c- cntor's bnuul, To (luerich witli l)loo(l the altar-Hres of his own father- land — AVhcn all around are faintiim hcait- and fidsehood's hollow smile. The bloody foe, the traitorous friend, fierce war, and covert guile, No hope on earth, unless he (juit the banner of his (lod. And crouch a slaA e upon the land where his free fathers trod — Would he renounce all earth-born joys, and choose his wintry bed On howling heath, with darkness round, and tempest o'er his head ; And trusting in no arm of flesh, undaunted face the fires, The axe, the torture, and the sM'ord lik'i; Scoti.axd's CovKNANT Shies 1 1; M i 1 1 ( I ^1 284 THE MOUNTAIN SANCTUAliY. Davtd Veddeh. Bleak was the winter Sabbath morn, and dreary was the sky, "When the persecuted left their caves to worship the Most High ; An unfrequented mountain gorge received the tremb- ling flock, Their canopy was mist and clouds — their altar was the rock. The eagle o'er their sanctuary majestically soared, And screamed discordoiit, while the crowd most re- verently adored ; The chilling wind moaned fitfully through groves of stunted pine, And the torrents rushed and thundered through the desolate ravine. And from that lonely rugged spot ascended, rich and rare, The incense of the contrite heart — the sacrifice of prayer ; Thf Miixiifd/ii Sniirfiiiirn. '2^:> And angels from the heights of heaven did look ooni- placeiit down On the honoured heads that soon should wear the martyr's glorious crown. And grey-haired sires forgot theii griefs, and all their A/rongs forgave, When they heard of Ilini whos3 power hurst the barriers of the grave ; And wicows, poor and desolate, and homeless orphans, prayed For pardon from the throne on high on their oppres- sor's head. And matrons, haggard, pale and wan, with babes upon the breast. Expelled from husband, hearth, and home, gaunt, destitute, oppressed, Exulted in their sufierings, nay, smiled at torture — death, And gazed on the Sun of Righteousness vith the engle eye of faith. And woe-worn groups in manhood's prime, by tyranny harassed, Whose tattered garments, matted hair, streamed on the wintry blast, <'y* yyi 'w t i B W f ' t-: "'^Wf^'^ >* B |i w i T a wuftii . « «ii*pi i , i ii , yhirk Siiflinhnj, " There's a red gaw in the north, giiidman, Like a furnace seven times het ; In mirk aneth an' in mirk aboon, The lift an' the heights are met. " I canna see where the lift begins, Or where the hill-taps en' ; An' mirk, an' mirker still it grows — May heaven a' skaith forefen' ! " " O, haud thy peace, my auld giiidwife, Though my een be blear't an' dim, I can feel it mirk when it licht suld be, An' I put my trust in HiM. *' An' though our shielin' be derk and dowf, Yet Ulai's stream rins clear ; An' there sail we gather the gowdcn fruit. Through a' the lichtsome year ! " " 0, heard ye that fearsome crash, guidraan, Or saw ye yon flash sae bricht 1 As the lift had crack't, an' the sun fa'en thro' An' the sea had quenched his licht ! " Oor son is upo' the hill, guidman, Oor daughter is teddin' hay ; 21)1 / ■•>'-vmmm"^~^ fevsZi^'iT 292 Harp of {he Scottish Commnf. \\ An', meikle I fear that ane or baith Come to skaith this awsome day ! " " O, dinna be fley't, my atild guidwife, That, outher we're gaun to tyne— Though wrath be sair on land and sea, It's nouther 'gainst yours nor mine. " An' I dred it wad be a day o' dool For the trespass o' the land ; 'Tis vengeance that cleedeth the lift wi' mirk, An' bareth its red richt hand. " For a godless, graceless band are met, This day in Edinbruch toun ; An' a' to set up the thing we hate, An' to pu' the guid cause doun." " O, hear ye the thick spate fa', guidman, An' the hailstanes dirl the pane ?— Ye're welcome, bairns ; heaven be praised. We see you in life again ! " " 0, faither, is this the day o' doom, When the dead an' the quick sail meet ?— A fire-clud sits on the heigh hill-tap. An' hisses 'mid hail and sleet. ! ! '(! « ■» »!»»« tW * ^ The lUm'J: Sainrihui. "The muirfowl coured 'neath the heather-cow, By the sitle o' tlie corbie-craw ; An' they feared na him, an' he feared na me, An' ae dread possest U:? a' ! " An' the fire hun^^ red frae my bonnet-rim. An' flichtered amang my hair ; An' I thocht to mysel', as a prayer I said. We sail meet on yirth nae mair. " An' burns ran wild an' roarin' rude. Where burns ne'er used to be ; An' hadna a kin' God led my steps, Ye never had looked on me 1 " " An', mither, when up in the spretty cleuch, A-kylin' the winter hay, The mirkness fell douii sac thick, I thocht I'd tint ray sicht for aye. " An' a lavrock that sang i' the lift at morn. Cam' sklentin' doun wi' the rain, An' I've keepit the woe thing in my breast To shelter its heart frae pain ! " " 'Tis a day o' wrath an' strife, my bairns, A day o' storm an' mirk ; 293 M'-i^2£;jiji| '*'?f^g l" |W«i > 204 J] u il it ILirp of the Scottish Covaumf. For the kind's bkck bands o' prelacy Are coiispirin' against the kirk." "O, sit ye (loun, my bairns baith, The thunder is wearin' caulm ; An' Willie sail read the blessed Jjnik, An' Mary sail sing the psaulm. '• An' we'll a' kneel doun by nor aio hearth-stane An' your faither in faith sail pray, That the God o' Grace may defend the richt, An' change to joy oor wac ! " 295 JOHN B R W X OF I' IM K S T H I L L ' S W I F F . .Teanik Mouison. Thky shot him at his cottage door, An' his wife was staiulin' near, But never a word of grief said she, Nor dimmed her e'e a tear. They tied his hands ahint his back, An' bound his bonny e'en, But her face was white, an' still, an' cauld As a dead face it had been. I The heath, a' purple i' the sun. Shone redder where he lay. When they had warked their wicked will. An' turned to ride away. " An' what think ye o' your guidm ui iiio, Guidwife 1 " quoth Clavers rude ; — A flash cam' i' the tearless e'e — To the white cheek the bluid. Kaii^iMKtijIiik.'!! M'".',i»^'^ i/iAii •«^« 1 1 . < ■: 296 ILn-p of the Scottish Coccmiut. She walked wi' steady step an' prood, To whare her guidman lay, She laid on her lap the shattered head, An' she wiped the bluid away. '• Aye thocht I rauckle o' my guidman An' far mair think I noo ; He's died for the Lord that died for him — God forgi'e them that slew." " 'Twere nocht but just," quoth Clavers cruel, " Gin ye lay by his side ? " "Ay, wark your will," she answered him, " Was never gladder bride." She sat there still as the gloamin' fell, An' they turned an' rode away, Still, when the heath grew dusk in nicht, On her knees the dead head lay. But when the first star glimmered oot I' the welkin quiet an' blue, Ae lang look took she o' the e'en She lo'ed, sae sichtless noo. An' syne she shut the e'elids white, An' kamed the clotted hair, JSHMH... John Bnnon nf Prirsf/i ill's Wife. An' rowed him in his shepherd's plaid Wi's life-bluid reddened sair. •_'o; She laid him on the purple heath, Gently as babe that slept ; Nae word said she till a' was dune- Syne sat her doun an' wept. i P' ■\. ( •298 II BOTH WELL BRIG 'II Alex. G. Murdoch. O THE sun shines bricht on bonnie Bothwellhau,s;h, An' the birds chant the green woods araang ; But the men o' the Covenant are scattered a,n' awa', Whase Bible- worship was their only wrang. The glens an' the valleys shall echo never raair The hoarse trooper's shout an' battle clang, For silent noo for aye is the hiilraan's prayer, An' the voices that gaed up to God in sang. I Down chasms deep an' dread, by mighty thunder split, Whare roars the everlastin' mountain flood, On the forehead o' the rocks their deathless names are writ, In characters o' fire an' o' bluid. An' high amang the clouds, on the taps o' the hills. Where the snaws an' win's o' winter rudely drave, A refuge they sought frae a tyranny o' ills, An' iand there a heaven an' a grave. Though the airm o' the Lord is slow to rise in wrath, Yet vengeance, He says, will I keep ; iliMri.^..^^«a.> ^SSM Boihi'-.U 111 I. •JIM) An' wae betide the hands that put the Saints to death On Bothwellhangh an' Aird's Moss wha sleep. O purple ran the heath on Bothweirs bluidy day. An' lang, lang gleamed red in rain an' sun ; But the earth an' the skies, frae Clyde bank lo brae. Sail witness to the slaughter that dav done. ',1.1 300 THE CKY OF THE HILL MEN Robert Rkid. I •I V God o' the Hameless, shield Thy bairns ! Loutt laich frae oot Thy halie hauld, An' i' the bield o' Thy wicht airms This remnant o' Thy flock enfauld ; Else ane by ane we'll dwine awa' Like lilts o' sang-birds frae the hill, When e'enin' mirk begins to fa', An' gleds an' hoolits wark their will. For never did the lintie's heid Clap closer to the bein hillside, "While owre her swept that form o' dreid, Than God's ain folk are fain to hide ; A' day we shun the licht ; at e'en We seek the dusht an' darksome glen, Weel if the midnicht's murky screen But hap us frae oor fellow men ! Here, stowlins, amang craigs an' howes, In cauld an' weet, we're forced to bide ; Oor only feres the tods an' yowes That raik alang the mountain side ; The wild bird's wheeple frae the lift, The only leevin' voice we hear, The Cn/ of the inihnn,. Save when in some lane glen we lift Oor ain to Thee in dule an' fear. 301 Nocht ken we o' the joys o' life, The ingle-neuk, the heartsome hi', Oor bonnie bairns an' blythe guidwife. For Thy sake, Lon' ! we've tint them a' ; Yet wad we coont oor losses, gains, Gin Thou in raids' o' us wad be To ease us o' the ^kaith an' pains That we maun ior oor Covenant dree. It's oh, that we micht bauldly stan' In Christ's ain kirk amang oor kin, Thy halie Book in ilka han', Thy praise ilk gledsome saul within ; For this oor Covenant we mak', For this we thole, for this Ave dee ; Oor ban's are on the pleugh, an' back Ae wistfu' glance we maurnia gi'e. Hoo lang, oh Lord ! wilt thou abide In Thy heich-hadden without sign, While ravenin' wolves on illca side Herry and rive this fauld o' Thine ? The bluid o' mony a martyred saint Cries to Thee frae the muirlan' sod ; Oh, loutt an' listen to oor plaint. Bare Thy wicht airm an' bield us, God ! 302 A 1 THE MIDNIGHT REVEL OF MUGDOCK. Hue; 11 :MacDonald. (Author of '' liainhks Round Glasgow.") What means yon licht in JNIugdock tower, Wbilk winnock an' loophole sma' Lets oot m gowden shafts that fret Mirk midnicht's raven wa' 1 What mean these voices of wassail rude, On the dark wind's gusty wing 1 An' why sweeps the frichted howlet forth, As the lood, lood laughters ring 1 The baukiebird's flickerin' hither and yont Roun' the trumlin' castle wa', An' the ghost-moth jinks owre the lichtit pane, Wi' mnny a rise and fa'. As gin the woo creatures o' glimmer and gloom Made blythe in the demon din. That rings in the hush o' the ebon hours, To the lowin' stars aboon. The Mhhwjhl 11 rd <>f Mmj^lnd: Then tell me, thou carlo of the lyait-locks, What meaneth this raidnicht glee ? Has a bairn been born, a bride been won, Or a fae been forced to . " 303 ) Nae hovvdie, quoth the carle, to the auld keep has gane, Nae sweet winsome bride been won : Nae wreath o' the laurel the Lerniox chief can share For deeds that his guid sword has done. But the tyrants o' Scotland are guests hero the nicht. At the hearth o' the stern Montrose ; An' the bluid-red wine is rowin' fast, 'Mang the Covenant's deidliest foes. The grim Yerl o' Eothes in his ermine is there, Wi' Middleton, the fause an' the fell, An' wan Claverhouse, wi' his mim leddie face, An' his snake-like e'e o' hell. Steepit in the gore o' the guid an' the true, The airn sauled Dalzell is there ; An' Bruce o' the Earlsha', wha aft makes a jest O' the widow and the orphan's prayer. Ay, the curses o' puir Scotland are a' here the nicht. Fell tools o' a fause, fause king ; •m ^1 304 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. That adderlin' wha warmed in his ain kintra's briest, Returns for its fealty a sting. Sae the red cups o' gowd in the warm bleezin' ha' Are circlin' richt fast and free, As the ill-deedy knaves droon the still sma' voice In lood rantin' din an' in glee. But the black ban, I trow, o' the sair-crushed Cargill Clings cauld as the lead round ilk heart ; Nor jestin', nor sang, nor the rich gushin' wine, Gars the chill gruesome wecht e'er depart. i I've heard, in my day, the weary wail o' dule, When the red luiks o' love grew caul', But the lood, lood leugh is a far sadder soun' That is rung from a wae-weirdit saul. The hooting o' the owl at the siller glowrin' mune, Or the wraith-bodin' tyke at e'en, I'd rather bide to hear 'mang the shiverin's o' the wud, Than the persecutor's mirth, I ween. Then hie thee awa' through the mirk shades o' nicht, Nor seek thou the banquet to share That's laid for the bluid-hounds o' base-heartit power, 'Neath the roof-tree o' Mugdock the fair. The Miihwjht Bevrl of Mugdod. 305 Oh ! rather lay thy heid in the puir man's beild, An' be thankfu' whate'er may betide, Than hanker for the wine-cups in yon ha' o' sin, Whare the malisons o' Heaven maun abide ! >? 30G HALLOWED GROUND, (Extract.) 1 ■■ George Paulin, AuLD Scotia ! gleaming o'er Thy hallowed sod, And up thy Highland heights amid the heather, Fanes where Thy Sabbath-honouring children gather To pay their vows to Scotia's covenant God. They pour the reverence of the simple heart In solemn melody and humble prayer, And with their dearest blood would sooner part Than see the altar-spoiler enter there ! And Scotia's emigrant, when far away Amid the forest stillness of the West, Oft from the banks of Tweed or Highland Tay, Lists the loved tones steal o'er the ocean's breast ! They lead him back to childhood's happy home— The village church beside the old yew-tree. The silent Sabbath, when he loved to roam In fields, to hear the hum of heather bee Float in the hallowed air from brake and flowery lea ; They lead him back to where, in days of yore, The austere sires of Scotland's freedom stood V IldUoictJ Grunnd. 307 Banded to aave the Bibles M'hich they bore, Their heritage of hope, from men of blood. The trembling boy — the parent grey with years And bent with toil — the widow poor and old, Driven houseless forth by persecuting spears. To shiver on the bleak and wintry wold. Their blood hath nursed a tree that will not die — That braved the blast, and still the blast shall brave. And Scotland will not own the ungenerous eye That beams not proudly o'er her martyr's grave. 30S THE COVENANT BANNER P^' An Ayrshirk Elder. Blow softly, ye breezes, by mountain and moor, O'er the graves of the Covenant men, By the muirland and flood that were red with their blood, Can ye waft the old watchwords again ? " For Scotland and Christ " the breezes of old O'er the wilds of the Westland bore, From the Lugar and Nith to the Lothian Frith, And the German Ocean's shore. And where'er they blew, a prayer was breathed And a holy psalm was sung, And hands were clasped and the banner grasped When the Covenant watchword rung. 0, for the brave true hearts of old, That bled when the banner perished ! 0, for the Faith that was strong in death — The Faith that our fathers cherished ! The Covenant Banner. The banner might fall, but the spirit lived. And liveth for evermore, And Scotland claims as her noblest names The Covenant Men of Yore. 309 I ! 4 '11 . I 310 THE COVEXAXTEK'S WIDOW !i William Cross. Author of " The Disruption— A Tale." \ O June ! thy rose is blawiii' fair, Thy balmy breath is sweet ; But at thy name my heart is sair, An' like a bairn I greet. Thy sunny days are noo to me The darkest ~>'' the year ; There is nae c]i;.rm in aucht I see, Nae joy in aucht I hear. In June the faithfu' o' the Ian' Amang the muirs made heid. The Kirk's oppressors to withstan', The vineyard true to weed. Then prelatists an' men o' sin Waxed fierce an' violent ; An' the Ian' was vexed like Egypt, when Her sairest plagues were sent. The C('ir)iiinf(r's IFidoiv. In rage they gathert'd their hun's, An' set them in iu-iay ; In bhiid o' saints they dyed their han's, E'en on the Sabbath day. Monmouth, Deyell, an' Chivei'se led The persecutin' host ; " Wi' Whigs we'll feed the hungry gled," Was their unhallowed boast. The Shepherd wi' His flock was wroth That day of fiery trial ; For indulgence black and sinfu' oath He poured a bluidy vial. 31 ! My ain guidman had seen wi' grief The oppressor wax in micht. An' base malignants steek their een Against the clearest licht. An' puir folk harried o' their a', An' hearths made desolate ; An' young an' auld in frost an' snaw, Turned hameless to the gate. i I An' to their ain kailyards the just Brought cot like sheepman' slain ; 15 ■ 'I •^w 312 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. An' the Covenant, oor stay an' trust, Denied ance an' again. A' this wi' irickle grief he saw, An' for direction prayed ; Till clear to him the righteous law 0' bluid for bluid was made. His wee things ane by ane he kissed, An' kirstened them wi' tears ; An' me he to his bosom pressed, An' strove to calm my fears. An' " Fareweel, bonnie Gowantoun, Fareweel, my hame ! " cried he ; " When I come back nae priestly loon Shall domineer owre thee." His mark is In oor Bible yet, At precious words o' grace ; It's like a tryst atween us set, An' heaven the meetin'-place. He left the corn-rigs sproutin' green, An' bonnie as could be, But a trooper's horse gaed there at e'en. An' foddered daintily. Tilt Cuct till liter's Jl'iiLnr, That mornin' wi' ~ome neighbour men He marched to Boddel 13rig, Afore wi' daylicht ane micht ken The furrow frae the rig. The stalwart smith, auld Anakson, An elder though he was, That Sabbath, wi' his kirk claes on, Stood foremost for the cause. ;{ I ;5 J. J Ih Oor honest neighbour, dyker Itoss, Instead o' spear or sword. His flauchter spade broucht frae the moss To smite the alien horde. The weaver chiel that wroucht oor ham. Behoved to play the man, An' wi' a hay-fork frae the barn, Fast to the gatherin' ran. »g» Belyve in licht the laverock san^ An' Clear the mornin' broke. An' r»^e road to Boddel Muir was thrang Wi' stern-set westlan' folk. The Clyde cam' wanderin' frae *^he braes, Blue as the lift abuno ; 20 314 ILirp of the Scotth-^Ji Coveiuuit. But nae carlin' there wad synde her claes AVhaii day was haflins dune. 1 • The water by twal hours wi" bluid Ran grumly bye my door, For oor mailin' is but craw-flicht guid Be-west o' Boddel IMuir. I climbed a brae abune the stour, An' to the Kast could see A cloud, as fr:)e a burnin' muir, Risin' continually, Like the cracklin' hiss o' burnin' whins, Afar aff I could hear ; Oh ! it was the dreadfu' noise o' guns That aye cam' on my ear. While there, in trerablin' fear I stood, It's my ears that ring, thoucht I ; But the soun' grew lood, and aye mair lood, Till the startled hare ran by. My bairns were wi' me, daffin' roun' Amang the flowery grass ; Oh ! little did they ken hoo soon They would be fatherless. When frae a swoon I cam' a^ain To fearsome consciousness, The tears fell frae my een like rain, An' sair was my distress. I My bonnie bairns aroun' me lay, They had grat themselves to sleep ; An' the tumult o' the deidly fray Was hushed in silence deep. Distractedly I soucht my hamc, Xae langer hanie to me ; For there 1 ad the * An' on they ran, an' on they rade. Through smoke an' dust an' din, But I saw nae mair, for "Clydesdale braid Aboot me seemed to spin. f 316 llarp of the Scottish Cuvenant. When, like a stricken deer, he ran Wounded to seek his lair. At the march burn he had turned on them, When the bluidhounds pressed him sair ; An' sae at e'en when I cam' hame. In daith I fand him there. OJdear, dear martyred husband ! thou Wert o' my life the life ; If in heaven a mourner's knee may bow, Pray for thy widowed wife. w Pray that oor puir wee helpless flock Provided for may be. An' led by grace to shun the rock O' sinfu' prelacy. Lang eerie nichts o' broken rest, An' days o' miserie ; An' a body, feckless at the best. Are appointed unto me. < ! I 1 For the pantin' hart there is a pool, A rest for weary care ; A balm in Gilead for dool. An' a physician there. ;3r COVENANT MEMORIES. [Written during a visit to various spots sacred to the memory of the martyred Heroes of the Covenant.] RoBKRT Hogg. Oh, heath-clad hills o' Scotlan', aft i' the gloamin''calni, On ye the prayin' hill-men oot-poured the frugrant psalm ; On ye they stood thegether An' feckfow faced the fae, Till thrammlet sair throughther Deid bodies thranged the brae. Ye dusky glens o' Scotlan' for beauty bear the gree, Aiblins your gleam an' glamour were wastit wared'on me, Were ye no' consecrated By fit o' Covenant men, Whan frae the fae ill-fated They socht your mirkest don. Oh, martyr-graves o' Scotlan' on muir an' mountainside, While bendin' owre your sacred dust oor bosoms heeze wi' pride ; ) r 1 hi 31,^ Ilaq) of the S f'Uh Cnnniant. We think on those lang sloepin' Aneith your moss-grown stanes, An' joy their bluid is leapin' E'en yet in freemen's veins. (Jh, martyr-sons o' Scotia u' a wearie weird ye dree'd Whan His mirk Clud o' Witness did thro' the valley lead ; An' till oor mountains perish, Till sets for aye yon sun, As oor herls' liliiid we'll cherish The hpfititiji- III' iciiii. 319 HACKSTOX OF KATHILLET 1680. Henry Inglls of Tousonck. There's a sorry jade at the Water-CJate, with a halter rope of straw, And ribs of age and hunger, and withers lean and raw. Do they lead her to the shambles 1 No ; the hang- man's at her head, And the warders of the c'ty in their gaberdines of red, And the Provost in his scarlet, and the Magistrates, are there. Why do the axe and lictors wait Beneath the gloomy Water-Gate, Round the old moonstruck mare 1 It tl II. From the Southland, through the city, by many a devious road, A bondsman of the Council drives a bound and bleeding load ] Doth he fetch it from the shambles ? Yes ; the shambles of the West, ' I 320 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. Where grim Dalzell provides the feast, and Satan is the guest, Where Cameron of the Covenant stood and prayed the battle-prayer ; Then with his brother side by side Took up the Cross of Christ, and died Upon the Moss of Ayr. III. There's a sough of women wailing, and a surge of savage men, Each Highland axe is planted fast, and faster fixed again ; But what avail the ashen shaft and temper of the spear. When every cheek is flushed with shame or blanched with sudden fear I Of all the Council myrmiiions, save the wretch that kills for hire. There is not one so blind and rude As not to deem the multitude All-righteous in its ire. IV. The cart comes rolling onwards, a ghastly gory bier, Dragoons upon the vanguard, on the flanks, and in the rear — p^ Hackstoii of Rathilld. 321 Dragoons that fought at Pentland, at Drumclog, and Bothwell Brig, Whose article of faith is " Death to the Covenanting Whig ! " Their naked sabres, from the blood of martyrs scarcely flry. Are dealt at random in the crowd, 'Midst deepest curse or anguish loud, Or hapless woman's cry. Scant and haughty is the greeting 'twixt the city and the sword, Scant and haughty as the greeting 'twixt a vassal and his lord. " A cart-load of the Covenant fron the West," the soldier said ; "Rece'e into your keeping here the living and the dead." Men and horses faced about him at the word of stern command, Then fiercely through the seething swarm. As if the town were ta'en by storm, Rode down the narrow strand. • 322 Harii nf the Scottish Corenant. n 1 VI. Now, quick ! unload the waggon — do the Council's high behest ; There are three that are to march afoot all manacled abreast, There's one that's to be mounted, and entreated well be sure, 'Tis Hackstou of Rathillet, who stood V»y at Magus Muir, There's the gory head of Cameron brought from off the battle-field, Fix it deftly on a halbert head, And let the hangman proudly tread With such a lance to wield. VII. Let the march of death be marshalled : but first von dotard bring. Who gazeth witu a troubled gaze as on some fearful thing. "Old dotard! dost thou know the head that grins on yonder spear ? — Let the halbert point be lowered that he see the visage cl°.ar." " I know him ! oh, I know him ! It is my own dear son ! God of my faith, Thou cans't not wrong Aught that to me or mine belong — Thy holy will be done ! " Hurhinn of RathiUd. 32a vni. They bound Rathillet backwards on the lean and dying mare ; The hangman wore his bonnet, but liathillet's head was bare ; — The ghastly face of Cameron, from its pedestal on high, Glared in the sunlight on the crowd, with glazed lack- lustre eye ; Behind, the leash of captives in blood-stained fetters come ; And symbol of their fallen state. And of their dark impending fate — Up through the steepy Canongate Resounds the felon's drum. I i 'I •I IX. Yet it seemed as if some hero-corse brought homeward from afar, Enbalmed in glory's shroud, and borne on Fame's funereal car Emblazoned with heraldic scroll and pomp of nodding plume, Were passing through a nation's tears to sleep in sculptured tomb ; — For there was silence in the street, or murmurs such as fill The waking ear with stifled sound Of anguish from the deeps profound. When multitudes are still. 324 Hnrp of tliP ibcoftish Covenant. I' t^« Brave soldier of the Covenant ! true heart — be of good cheer — The goal that thou hast toiled to win so painfully is near ; The Cross that thou hast borne so long, God wills thee to lay down, And angels wait at Heaven's high gate, thy martyrdom to crown ; — What recks it that the battle close by yonder gallows- tree ? The scaffold with its visage grim Affrights the vile, but cannot dim The lustre of the free. ;l! XI. The gallows-tree grew at the Cross — thej' halted at the stair ; And step by step some wretched men the bleeding burden bear ; But life was in the mangled form, and reason in the brain, And a hero heart that spurned the dart and scorned the sting of pain — Defied the rack to shake his faith, or from his lips to wring One doubt to dim the holy cause, One word to own the tyrant laws, Or the thrice perjured king. Ilacksion vf RathilUt. 325 XII. They hewed liathillet limb from limb, and as each fragment fell Shorn from the bruised and (quivering trunk, these ministers of hell Howled round about him like a pack of fiendish hounds at bay. Upon the watch to whet their fangs in some incarnate prey : One agony of death they deemed too great a boon to give ; And twice from off the cursed tree — With all a tiger's clemency — They set the writhing carcass free And brought it back to live. \ \ XIII. They were Christians — and they cut the heart from out the living man. And waved it as a flag is waved upon the battle's van ; And burned it as a beast is burned some idol to appease, And cast the human ashes round like incense on the breeze : And they did it in the name of God ! — Where were His lightnings then, That came not with consuming fire To light the everlasting pyre For these blaspheming men ? 326 Harp of the Scottish Covenant. '■\ XIV. Look round on Scotland's ruined fanes — on shattered arch and wall, On roofless aisle and broken font — on column, tomb, and stall Laid waste within the sunniest spots of this our happy land — As waste as lieth Nineveh upon the desert strand, The lightning of a nation's wrath has smote them with decay : The Faith their reeking altars fed With life-blood of the saints, is fled ; In Heaven the martyrs have their bed — The Covenant lives for Aye. 32: WATCHIXa IX VAIX. [Paraphrased from S. R. Crockett'.s " Men of tlie ^^oss Hags."] A. Wanless. Hoo dull and dreary was the day, An', oh, hoo weary was the nicht, When owre the hills ray faither rade To crush the wrang an' aid the richt. Afore he went he bravely cried, " Auld Scotland's richts we shall maintain ; My son, he kin' to kith an' kin, An' soon I will be back again." My faither shook the bridle reins. As gallantly he rade awa' ; An' side by side my brither rade, While dool weighed doon the he'rts o's a'. An' aye my mither wrung her ban's. An' aye the tear rose in her e'e ; An' aye she cried, " Xae cause is guid That twines my ain guidman frae me." 328 Hai-p of the Scottish Covenant. Three weary days harl come an' gane ; Ae raornin' at the daw' o' day, I saw my brither a' alane Come slowly ridin' doon the brae. Then in the house I ran wi' speed, An' unco sair I was to blame ; Withoot a thou'ht I cried, " Wae's me, I see my brither comin' hame." My mither cried, " Is he alane 1 " "Ah me," I said, "Oh, wae betide, He comes alane, slow, slow he comes. There's nae ane ridin' by his side." Then in my arms my mither fell ; She wrung her ban's wi' wild despair ; She cried, " Oh, broken is my he'rt, r»e never, never see him mair." She watched the hill frae day to day. But a' her watching was in vain ; To her he loved wi' a' his he'rt He never mair cam' back again. X. , 320 T H E C V E N A N T E K S' C ]\I M U X I () X George Donald. Till-; iiiuors of Eaglesham and Mearns, Where Howie wrote, and Pollok sung ; Their hills and glens and mossy cairns, I often sought when life was young. Alang their many lochs I've strayed, Deep musing on some favourite book ; Or watched the speckled perch betrayed By angler with his treacherous hook. Or down the banks, where rowin' rin The Cart, the Erne, and brilher burn ; Pleased with the music of their din, My wandering steps 1 often turn. Oft in these moors in summer mom I've listened to the shepherd's tale, Of times when Scotland's peace was torn. And tyrants dared her right assail. 21 330 Harj) <>f the Sc: O F A C A^ E X A X T 1 : K . On Lagan's winding banks a bard, Vrhose bosom sorrow seemed to wring, Lone seated, thus with tears I heard, In plaintive numbers sing. Thrice fifty j'ears and ten have tied, Since Scotland's covenanted sons With pious sternness fought and bled, Like patriot-martyred ones. A perjured prince with despot sway Their dearest rights had dared to spoil, While flattering minions marked the way, With cruelty arid guile. But courtly craft and lawless power In vain endeavoured that to take Their sires bequeathed them as their dower, At scaffold and at stake. They saw their Zion shackled then ; On them for help they heard her call, And, girding up their loins like men. They vowed to break her thrall. r^^ Song nf a Cuvriinntrr. Their covenant standard was unfurled, And as their good broad swords they dxcw, They at their foes defiance hurled, And waved their banners blue. They fouirht — but were compelled to fight — They foughr, b\it not for wealth or fame, They fought to save the liight from Might, And Freedom's blessing claim. They fought — their blood the heather bell, A deeper purple gave since then ; Drumclog, Airsmoss, and Pentland tell, Their deeds on hill and glen. Black Prelacy was then abjured By sacred oath and Solemn League ; And sacred Presbytery secured From force and dark intrigue. Thrice fifty years or little more, Have passed since Scotland, smiling saw What thousands struggled to restore Become again the law. But woe on their descendants, woe ; Arisen have a recreant race. 335 336 Harp of thoih Sir Walter Scott and Dr. M'Crie admit that the woik shows con- siderahle tr.lent. It contains an aransinu and graphic description of the Celtic warriors, and the following excerpts from which may prove of interest to the reader. On page 4 he thus pourtrays — THE HIGHLAND AKMV. Some might have judged they were the creatures Called selphies, whose customs and features Paracelsus doth decry In his occult philosophy, Or fauns, or brownies, if ye will. Or satyrs, come from Atlas Hill. But those who were their chief commanders, As such who bore the pirnie standards. Who led the van and drove the rear. Were richt weel mounted in their gear ; With brogues, trews, and pirnie plaids. With gude blue bonnets on their heads. Which on one side had a flype Adorned with a tobacco-pipe : 340 Note. With dirk, and snapwork, and snuff mill ; A l>ag, which they with onions fill, And then, strict observers say, A tup horn filled with usquebae : A slashed out coat beneath her plaids, A targe of timber, nails, and hides. With a long two-handed sword ; In nothing they're accounted sharp Except in bagpipe and in ha,rp. At page 31 he represents them as exhibiting — More di+Terent postures Than sewed on hangings, beds, or bolsters ; More various actings, modes, and stances, Than's read in poems or romances. Pipes were playing, drums were beating, Some sneeshin from their fellows getting ; Trumpets sounding, skenes were glancing, Some were " Tonald Cowper " dancing. The rapacity of the Highland Host, who were let loose upon the poor Covenanters of the West in order to induce them to adopt the religion of a gciiUeiiHin, is thus described : — They dirk our tenants, shame our wives, And we're in hazard of our lives ; They plunder horse, and them they laden With Coverings, blankets, sheets, and plaiden, With hodden gray and worsted stuff ; .V'-/( :•> i 1 They take