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-a

'*>

-..^w

THI

MOK
H

p-y-nrw W.,w- f^, ,,^

LAYS OF ANCIEIiT ROME,

WITH

IVRY AND THE ARMADA.

LOAD MACAULAY.

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISn CiYALlERS.

AND OTHER POEMS.

PROF. WM. BDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN, D.c.L.

From latest Unglish BdiUom.

Wme» faint, 1. 1. :

THE INTER>^ATIONAL PHrXTINC AND PUBLISHING CO.

^ffmctea in eTanaUa :

MONTREAL : John LOvell • TORnvTn A

HALIFAX, N.S. : A. I ^^ 'JZIT ' B^^o^^TT^'''^ * ^^^ •
MCMILLAN ; ST JOHN'^wtt ' a, ^' ^•^••' •^- * ^'

CHAHLOTTE^r.!' P^e!;'. =: rA^rr ^ ^

1871.

'If

* c^H

■

^^^^m \

- s

r4963

LAYS OF ANCIEl^T EOME

WITH

IVRY AND THE ARMADA.

LORD MACAULAY.

NEW EDITION.

THE INTERNATmAL PHINtWanD PUBLISHING CO

1872.

9303

PREFACE.

That what is called the history of the Kings and early
Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, few scho-
lars have, since the time of Beaufort, ventured to deny.
It is certain that, more than three hundred and sixty years
after the date ordinarily assigned for the foundation of the
city, the public records were, with scarcely an exception,
destroyed by the Gauls. It is certain that the oldest
annals of the commonwealth were compiled more than a
century and a half after this destruction of the records.
It is certain, therefore, that the great Latin writers of
the Augustan age did not possess those materials without
which a trustworthy account of the infancy of the repub-
lic could not possibly be framed. Those writers own,
indeed, that the chronicles to which they had access were
filled with battles that were never fought, and Consuls
that were never inaugurated ; and we have abundant proof
that, in these chronicles, events of the greatest importance,
such as the issue of the war with Porsena, and the issue
of the war with Brennus, were grossly misrepresented.
Under these circumstances, a wise man will look with great
suspicion on the legend which has come down to us. He
will perhaps be inclined to regard the princes who are
said to have founded the civil and religious institutions

PREFACE.

of Rome, the son of Mars, and the husband of Egcria,
as mere mytliologicul personages, of the same class with
Perseus and Ixion. As ho draws nearer and nearer to
the confines of authentic history, he will become less and
less hard of belief. He will admit that the most impor-
tant parts of the narrative have some foundation in truth.
But he will distrust almost all the details, not only because
they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but also because
he will constantly detect in them, even when they are
within the limits of physical possibility, that peculiar
character, more easily understood than defined, which
distinguishes the creations of the imagination from the
realities of the world in which we live.

The earl^ history of Rome is indeed far more poetical
than anything else in Latin literature. The loves of the
Vestal and the God of War, the cradle laid among the
reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she-wolf, the shepherd's
cabin, the recognition, the fratricide, the rape of the
Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall of Hostus Hosti-
lius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius through the marsh,
the women rushing with torn raiment and dishevelled hair
between their fathers and their husbands, the nightly
meetings of Numa and the Nymph by the well in the
sacred grove, the fight of the three Romans and the three
Albans, the purchase of the Sibylline books, the crime of
TuUia, the simulated madness of Brutus, the ambi'mous
reply of the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the wrongs
of Lucretia, the heroic actions of Horatius Codes, of
Scasvola, and of Cloelia, the battle of Regillus won by the
aid of Castor and Pollux, the defence of Cremera, the
touching story of Coriolanus, the still more touching story
of Vii^inia, the wild legend about the draining of the

Egcria,
ass with
carer to
less and
t impor-
n truth,
because
because
hey are
peculiar
, which
rom the

poetical
( of the
3ng the
spherd's

of the
! Hosti-

marsh,
led hair
nightly

in the
le three
rime of

5igUOU8

wrongs
3les, of
by the
ra, the
g story
of the

PREFACE. 7

Alban lake, the combat between Valerius Corvus and the
gigantic Gaul, are among the many instances which will
at once suggest themselves to every reader.

In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of fine imagin-
ation, these stories retain much of their genuine character.
Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate
them into mere prose. The poetry shines, in spite of
him, through the dreary pedantry of his eleven books. It
is discernible in the most tedious and in the most superfi-
cial modern works on the early t'mes of Rome. It enlivens
the dulness of the Universal History, and gives a charm
to the most meagre abridgements of Goldsmith.

Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerning men
who rejected the popular account of the foundation of
Home, because that account appeared to them to have the
air, not of a history, but of a romance or a drama. Plu-
tarch, who was displeased at their incredulity, had nothing
better to say in reply to their arguments than that chance
sometimes turns poet, and produces trains of events not
to be distinguished from the most elaborate plots which
are constructed by art.* But though the existence of a
poetical element in the early history of the Great City
was detected so many years ago, the first critic who
distinctly saw from what source that poetical element

* "Tttotttov /lev evioig earl rb SpafiariKov koX TrTiaa/nar&dEc ov
Set 6e UKiareiv, rfjv Tvxnv opavrag, o'iuv irm^/idruv drifiiovpydq eari.
— Plut. Rom. viii. This remarkable passage has been more grossly
misinterpreted than any other in the Greek language, where the
sense was so obvious. The Latin version of Cruserius, the French
version of Amyot, the old English version by several hands, and
the later English version by Langhorne, are all equally destitute
of every trace of the meaning of the original. None of the transla-
tors saw even that Tcoirjiia is a poem. They all render it an event,

PREFACE.

hid been derived was James Pcrizonius, one of the most

acute and leurned antiquaries of the seventeenth century.

His theory, which, in his own days, attracted little or no

notice, was revived in the present ^'cneration by Niebuhr,

a man who would have been the first writer of his time,

if his talent for communicating truths had borne any

proportion to his talent for investigating them. That

tiieory has been adopted by several eminent scholars of

our own country, particularly by the Bishop of St. David's,

by Professor Maiden, and by the lamented Arnold. It

appears to bo now generally received by men conversant

with classical antiquity ; and indeed it rests on such strong

proofs, both internal and external, thatit will not be easily

subverted. A popular exposition of this theory, and of

the evidence by which it is supported, may not be without

interest even for readers who are unacquainted with the

ancient languages.

The Latin literature which has come down to us is of
later date than the commencement of the Second Punic
War, and consists almost exclusively of works fashioned
on Greek models. The Latin metres, heroic, elegiac, lyric,
and dramatic, are of Greek origin. The best Latin epic
poetry is the feeble echo of the Iliad and Odyssey. The
best Latin eclogues are imitations of Theocritus. The
plan of the most finished didactic poem in the Latin tongue
was taken from Hesiod. The Latin tragedies are bad
copies of the masterpieces of Sophocles and Euripides.
The Latin comedies are free translations from Demophilus,
Menander, and Appollodorus. The Latin philosophy was
borrowed, without alteration, from the Portico and the
Academy ; and the great Latin orators constantly pro-
posed to themselves as patterns the speeches pf Demos-
thenes and Lysias.

PREFACE, ^

But there was an earner Latin literature, a literature
truly Latin, which has wholly perished, which had, indeed,
almost wholly perished ion^' before those whom we are in
the habit of rogardinj; as the greatest Latin writers were
born. That literature abounded with metrical romances,
such aa are found in every country where there is much
curiosity and intelligence, but little reading and writing.
All human beings, not utterly savage, long for some infor-
mation about past times, and are delighted by narratives
which present pictures to the eye of the mind. But it is
only in very enlightened communities that books are read-
ily accessible. Metrical composition, therefore, which, in
a highly civilised nation, is a mere luxury, is, in nations
imperfectly civilised, almost a necessary of life, and is
valued less on account of the pleasure which it gives to
the ear, than on account of the help which it gives to the
memory. A man who can invent or embellish an interest-
ing story, and put it into a form which others may easily
retain in their recollection, will always be highly esteemed
by a people eager for amusement and information, but
destitute of libraries. Such is the origin of ballad-poetry,
a species of composition which scarcely ever fails to spring
up and flourish in every society, at a certain point in the
progress towards refinement. Tacitus informs us that
songs were the only memorials of the past which the
ancient Germans possessed. IVe learn from Lucan and
from Ammianus Marcellinus that the brave actions of the
ancient Gauls were commemorated in the verses of Bards.
During many ages, and through many revolutions, min-
strelsy retained its influence over both the Teutonic and
the Celtic race. The vengeance exacted by the spouse of
Attila for the murder of Siegfried was celebrated in

PREFACE.

rhymes, of which Germany is still justly proud. The
exploits of Athelstane were commemorated by the Ano-Io
Saxons and hose of Canute by the Danes, in rude poems,
ot which a few fragments have come down to us The
chants of the Welsh harpers preserved, through ages of
darkness, a faint and doubtful memory of Arthur In
the Highlands of Scotland may still be gleaned some relics
ot the old songs about Cuthullin and Fingal. The lono-
stiuggle of the Servians against the Ottoman power was
recorded in lays full of martial spirit. We learn from
Herrera that when a Pe/uvian Inoa died, men of skill were
appointed to celebrate him in verses, which all the people
learned by heart, and sang in public on days of festival
The feats of Kurroglou, the great freebooter of Turkistan
recounted in ballads composed by himself, are known 'm
every village of Northern Persia. Captain Beechey heard
the Bards of the Sandwich Islands recite the heroio
achievements of Tamehameha, the most illustrious of thf^ip
kings. Mungo Park found in the heart of Africa a class
of singing men, the only annalists of their rude tribes, and
heard them tell the story of the victory which Darnel, the
negro prince of the Jaloflfs, won over Abdulkader the
Mussulmaa tyrant of Foof^i Torra. This species of poetry
attained a high degree of excellence among the Castilians,
before tJiey began to copy Tuscan patterns. It attained
a still higher degree of excellence among the English and
the Lowland Scotch, curing the fourteenth, fifteenth, and
sixteenth centuries. Sut it reached its full perfection in
ancient Greece ; for there can be m doubt that th'i great
Homeric poems are generically ballads, though widely dis-
tinguished from all other ballads, and indeed from almost

' fiamaa wmpoBiuoua, »y iransoeiideut sublimity

and beauty. ^

:,*'^"'- vy. -.

PREFACE.

As it is agreeable to general experience that, at a cer-
tain stage in the progress of society, ballad-poetry should
flourish, so is it also agreeable to general experience that,
at a subsequent stage in the progress of society, ballad-
poetry should be undervalued and neglected. Knowledge
advances : manners change : great foreign models of com-
position are studied and imitated. The phraseology of
the Old minstrels becomes obsolete. Their versification,
which, having received its laws only from the 3ar, abounds
in irregularities, seems licentious and uncjuth. Their
simplicity appears beggarly when compr^red with the
quaint forms and gaud^ colouring of such artists as Cow-
ley and Gongora. The ancient lays, unjustly despised by
the learned and polite, linger for a time in the memory of
the vulgar, and are at length too often irretrievably lost.
We cannot wonder that the ballads of Rome should have
altogether disappeared, when we remember how very
narrowly, in spite of the invention of printing, those of
our own country and those of Spain escaped the same fate.
There is indeed little doubt that oblivion covers many
English songs equal to any that were published by Bishop
Percy, and many Spanish songs as good as the best of
thosf) which have been so happily translated by Mr.
Lockhart. Eighty years ago England possessed only one
tattered copy of Childe Waters, and Sir Cauline, and
Spain only one tattered copy of the noble poem of the Cid.
The snuff of a candle, or a mischievous dog, might in a
moment have deprived the world for ever of any of those
fine composition3. Sir Walter Scott, who united to the
fire of a great poet the minute curiosity and patient dili-
gence of a orent, antimmrv tooq Kiif i«af \^ i'-r^a ^^

~- 13 --' — 1 — J J »--.f r.-ii.t juau ill time tO suvtj

the precious relics of the Minstrelsy of the Border. In

PREFACE.

Germany, the lay of the Nibelunga had been long utterly
forgotten, when, in the eighteenth century, it was for the
first time printed from a manuscript in the old library
of a noble family. In truth, the only people who, through
their whole passage from simplicity to the highest qivili-
sation, never for a moment ceased to love and admire their
old ballads, were the Greeks.

. That the early Romans should have had ballad-poetry
and that this poetry should have perished, is therefore
not strange. It would, on the contrary, have been strange
If these things had not come to pass; and we should be
justified in pronouncing them highly probable, even if we
, had no direct evidence on the subject. But we have
direct evidence of unquestionable authority.

Ennius, who flourished in the time of the Second Punic
War, was regarded in the Augustan age as the father of
Latin poetry. He was, in truth, the father of the second
school of Latin poetry, the only school of which the works
have descended to us. But from Ennius himself we learn
that there were poets who stood to him in the same rela-
tion in which the author of the romance of Count Alarcos
stood to Garcilaso, or the author of the 'Lytell Geste of
Robyn Hode ' to Lord Surrey. Ennius speaks of verses
which the Fauns and the Bards were wont to chant in the
old time, when none had yet studied the graces of speech
when none had yet climbed the peaks sacred to the
Goddesses r^ Grecian song. ' Where, ' Cicero mournfully
asks, ' are those old verses now ? ' *

Contemporary with Ennius was Quintus Fabius Pictor
the earliest of the Roman annalists. His account of the
* ' Quid ? Nostri ve teres versus ubi sunt ?

♦ • • • • . " QuOa Olim Faiini irotonrt.ia ^,,»>«l i.

-" - • •™t^-w|«v voiucwaiit.

PREFACE.

infancy and youth of Romulus and Remus has been
preserved by Dionysius, and contains a very remarkable
reference to the ancient Latin poetry. Fahius says that
in his time his countrymen were still in the habit of
singing ballads about the Twins. ' Even in the hut of
Faustulus,' — so these old lays appear to have run,— 'the
children of Rhea and Mars were, in port and in spirit,
not like unto swineherds or cowherds, but such that men
might well guess them to be of the blood of Kings and
Gods.' *

Cum neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superslrat,
Nee dicti stucjiosus erat." ' Brutus xviii.

The Muses, it should be observed, are Greek divinities. The Italian
Goddesses of verse were the Oamoenae. At a later period, the
appellations were used indiscrimiftately; but in the age of Ennius
there was probably a distinction. In the opitaph of Nievius, who
was the representative of the old Italian school of poetry, the
Camoenae, not the Muses, are represented as grieving for the loss
of their votary. The ' Musarum scopuli ' are evidently the peaks of
Parnassus.

Scaliger, in a note on Varro (Z?e Lingua Latino., lib. vi.),
suggests, with great ingenuity, that the Fauns, who were repre-
sented by the superstition of later ages as a race of monsters, half
gods and half brutes, may really have been a class of men who
exercised in Latium, at a very remote period, the same functions
which belonged to the Magians in Persia and to the Bards in Gaul.

* 01 6e avSpudevreg yivovrai, Kard re a^iuaiv fiopcp^g Kal <ppov^/ia-
Tog byKov^ oh avo<pop^oig Kai ^ovaoloLg hiKoreg, aW olovg av rig
a^iaaeie rovg eK pamleiov re ^iivrag yevovg, Kal arrb Samdvav OTCopag
yevEodat vo/^iCofiEvovc, ojg 'v To7.g narpiotg Vfivoig vnb 'Pujuaiuv en
Kal vi'v aSera/.—Dion. Hal. i. 79. This passage has sometimes been
cited as if Dionysius had been speaking in his own person, and
had, Greek as he was, bee a so industrious or so fortunate as to
discover some valuable remains of that early Latin poetry which
the greatest Latin writers of his age regrptted as b.opelnHsIy lost.
Such a siippositioa i$ highly improbable^ and i^^eedit seems clear

PREFACE.

Cato the Censor, who also lived in the days of the
Second Punic War, mentioned this lost literature in his
from the context- that Dionysius, as Reiske and other editors
evidently thought, was merely quoting from Fabius Pictor. The
whole passage has the air of an extract from an ancient chronicle
and IS introduced by the words, ^L^vro^ f,^ev ^d^co^^ 6 UUrJ
AeydfiEvog, ryde ypA^ei.

Another argument may be urged which seems to deserve consi-
deration. The author of the passage in question mentions a
thatched hut which, in his time, stood between the summit of
Mount Palatine and the Circus. This hut, he says, was built by
Romulus, and was constantly kept in repair at the public charge
but never in any respect embellished. Now, in the age of Dionysiua
there certainly was at Rome a thatched hut, said to have been that
of Romulus. But this hut, as we learn from Vitruvius, stood, not
near the Circus, but in the Capitol. (^ ii. l.) If, therefore we
understand Dionysius to speak in his own person, we can reconcile
his statement with that of Vitruvius only by supposing that there
were at Rome, in the \ ugustan age, two thatched huts, both believed
to have been built by Romulns, and both carefully repaired and held
in high honour. The objections to such a supposition seem to be
strong. Neither Dionysius nor Vitruvius speaks of more than one
such hut. Dio Cassius informs us that twice, during the lonj?
administration of Augustus, the hut of Romulus caught fire
(xlviii. 43, liv. 29.) Had there been two such huts, would he not
have told us of which he spoke? An English historian would
hardly give an account of a fire at Queen's College without saying
whether it was at Queen's College, Oxford, or at Queen's College
Cambridge. Marcus Seneca, Macrobius, and Conon, a Greek writer
from whom Photius has made large extracts, mention only one hut
of Romulus, that in the Capitol. (J/. Seneca Contr. i. 6. ; Macrobius,
SaLu 15.-PhoUus, Bibl. 186.) Ovid, Livy, Petronius, Valerius
Maximus, Lucius Seneca, and St. Jerome, mention only one hut of
Romulus, without specifying the site. (^Ovid. Fasti iii 183 • Liv
V 53. ; Petronius Fragm.; Val. Max. iv. 4. ; L, Seneca, Consolati'o
ad Helotam ; D. Ilieron ad PauUnianum de Didymo.) ■

The whole difficulty is removed, if we suppose that Dionysius
was merely quoting Fabius Pictor. Nothing is more probable than

that. t.nA rnhin ■mliinVi Jn +V.« +:~.- -.r -ri-t-!-- .

, „,-!^., .„ „„^ li^c ui ^iiuius sxooa near the Circus

PREFACE.

lost work on the antiquities of his country. Many ages
he said, before his time, there were ballads in praise of
illustrious men ; and these ballads it was the fashion for
the guests at banquets to sing in turn while the piper
played. ' Would,' exclaims Cicero, ' that we still had the
old ballads of which Cato speaks ! ' *

Valerius Maximus gives us exactly similar information,
without mentioning his authority, and observes that the
ancient Roman ballads were probably of more benefit to
the young than all the lectures of the Athenian schools,
and that to the influence of the national poetry were to

might, long before the age of Augustus, have been transported to
the Capitol, as the place fittest, by reason both of its safety and of
its sanctity, to contain so precious a relic.

The language ofPlutarch confirms this hypothesis. Ee describes,
with great precision, the spot where Romulus dwelt, on the slope'
of Mount Palatine leading to the Circus ; but he says not a word
implying that the dwelling was still to be seen there. Indeed, his
expressions imply that it was no longer there. The evidence of
Solinus is still more to the point. He, like Plutarch, describes the
spot where Romulus had resided, and says expressly that the hut
had been there, but that in his time it was there no longer. The
site, it is certain, was well remembered ; and probably retained its
old name, as Charing Cross and the Haymarket have done. This
is probably the explanation of the words 'casa Romuli,' in Victor's
description of the Tenth Region of Rome, under Valentinian.

* Cicero refers twice to this important passage in Cato's Anti-
quities :—' Gravissimus auctor in Originibus dixit Cato, morem
apud majores huac epularum fuisse, ut deinceps, qui accubarent,
canerent ad tibiam clarorum virorum laudes atque virtutes. Ex
quo perspicuum est, et cantus tum fuisse rescriptos vocum sonis,
et carraina.'— r?^sc. Qus(ist:i\.2. Again: ' Utinam exstarent ilia
carmina, quae, multis saecul-:s ante suam setatem, in epulis esse
cantitata a singulis convivi. i j clarorum virorum laudibus, in
Originibus scriptum reliquit G&io.'—Brutun^ xi2=

•'♦•'■•>*s

PREFACE.

be ascribed the virtues of such men as Cnmillus and
Fabricius.*

Varro, whose authority on all questions connected with
the antiquities of his country is entitled to the greatest
respect, tells us that at banquets it was once the fashion
for boys to sing, sometimes with and sometimes without
instrumental music, ancient ballads in praise of men of
former times. These young performers, he observes^ were
of unblemished character, a circumstance which he pro-
bably mentioned because, among the Greeks, and indeed
in his time among the Romtms also, the morals of singing
boys were in no high repute.f

The testimony of Horace, though given incidentally,
confirms the statements of Cato, Valerius Maximus, and
Varro. The poet predicts that, under the peaceful
administration of Augustus, the Romans will, over their
full goblets, sing to the pipe, after the fashion of their
fathers, the deeds of brave captains, and the ancient
legends touching the origin of the city.J

* 'Majores natu in conviviis ad tibias egregia superiorum opera
carmine comprehensa pangebant, quo ad ea imitanda juventutem
alacriorem redderent. . . . Quas Athenas, quam scholam, quae alieni-
gena studia huic domesticae discipline praBtulerim ? Inde oriebantur
Camilli, Scipiones, Fabricii, Marcelli, Fabii.'— Fa^. Max. ii. 1.

t ' In conviviis pueri modesti ut cantarent carmina antiqua, in
quibus laudes erant majorum, et assa voce, et cum tibicine.'
Nonius, Assa voce pro sola.

X ' Nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris,
Inter jocosi munera Liberi,

Cum prole matronisque nostris,
Rite Deos prius apprecati,
Virtute functos, more patrum. duces,
Lydis remixto carmine tibiis,

Trojamque, et Anchisen, et almjB
Frogeniem Veaerici caueuius.'
» Carm. ir, 15.

PREFACE.

The proposition, then, that Rome had ballad-poetry is
not merely in itself highly probable, but is fully proved by
direct evidence of the greatest weight.

This proposition being established, it becomes easy to
understand why the early history of the city is unlike
almost everything else in Latin literature, native where
almost everything else is borrowed, imaginative where
almost everything else is prosaic. We can scarcely hesi-
tate to pronounce that the magnificent, pathetic, and truly
national legends, which present so striking a contrast to
all that surrounds them, are broken and defaced fragments
of that early poetry which, even in the age of Cato the
Censor, had become antiquated, and of which Tully had
never heard a line.

That this poetry should have been suffered to perish
will not appear strange when we consider how complete
was the triumph of the Greek genius over the public mind
of Italy. It is probable that, at an early period, Homer
and Herodotus furnished some hints to the Latin min-
strels:* but it was not till after the war with Pyrrhus
that the poetry of Rome began to put off its old Ausonian
character. The transformation was soon consummated.
The conquered, says Horace, led captive the conquerors.
It was precisely at the time at which the Roman people
rose to unrivalled political a3<3endency that they stooped to
pass under the intellectual yoke. It was precisely at the
time at which the sceptre departed from Greece that the
empire of her language and of her arts became universal
and despotic. The revolution indeed was not effected
without a struggle. Naevius seems to have been the last
of the ancient line of poets. Ennius was the founder of a
* See the Preface to the Lay of the Battle of Regillus.

PREFACE.

new dynasty. NaDvius celebrated the First Punic War in
Saturniun verse, the old national verse of Italy.* Ennius

• Cicero speaks highly in more than one place of this poem of
Naerms ; Enn.us sneered at it. and stole from it.
Jiftrill ^- ^*'"''"^*'^ measure/see Hermann's Elementa Doctrine,

xJ^I^T'tTI'"'".' '"''"''^^"^ *° *^' grammarians, consisted of
two parts. The first was a catalectic dimeter iambic ; the second
was composed of three trochees. But the licence tiken byThe
early Latin poets seems to have been almost boundless. The most
perfect Saturman line which has been preserved was the work, not
of a professional artist, but of an amateur :

' Dabunt malum Metelli xVasvio poetae '
There has been much difference of opinion among learned men
respectmg the history of this measure. That it is fhe same with
a Greek measure used by Archilochus is indisputable. (Bentlev

doubt whether the coincidence was not fortuitous. We constantly
find the same rude and simple numbers in different countries, under
circumstances which make it impossible to suspect that th re ha
been imitation on e ther side. Bishop Heber heard the children of

hnv bT '"f "f ^ '"^'"^ '^"^^^' «^^^^'' 'o the tune of 'My
boy Billy.' Neither the Castilian nor the Geman minstrels of S
middle ages owed anything to Paros or to ancient Rome Yel
ooth the poem of the Cid and the poem of the Nibelunrcontefn
many Saturnian verses ; as,~ ^^^"eiungs contain

' Estas nuevas ^i mio Cid eran venidas '
'A mi lo dicen ; k ti dan las orejadas '
'Man mohte michel wunder von Sifride sagen '
Wa ich den Kunic vinde daz sol man mir sagen '

Indeed, there cannot be a more perfect Saturnian line than one

which IS sung in every English nursery-

.»* iJ^^ ^"e^^n/as in hei parlour eating bread and honey • '

PREFACE.

sang the Second Punic War in numbers borrowed from
the Iliad. The elder poet, in the epitaph which he wrote

may have visited Sybaris or Crotona, may have heard some verses
of Archilochus sung, may have been pleased with the metre, and
may have introduced it at Rome. Thus much is certain, that the
Saturnian measure, if not a native of Italy, was at least so early
and so completely naturalised there that its foreign origin was
forgotten.

iJentley says indeed that the Saturuian measure was first brought
from Greece into Italy by Nasvius. But this is merely obiter dictum.
to use a phrase common in our courts of law, and would not have
been deliberately maintained by that incomparable critic, whose
memory is held la reverence by all lovers of learning. The argu-
ments which might be brought against Bentley's assertion— for it
is mere assertion, supported by no evidence— are innumerable A
few will suffice.

1. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of Ennius.
Ennius sneered at Naevius for writing on the First Punic War in
verses such as the old Italian Bards used before Greek
had been studied. -iHow the poem of Njevius was
verse. Is it possible that Ennius could have
if the Saturnian verse had been just imr
first time ?

2. Bentley^s assertion
'When Greece,'
vilised country,
Would Horace h
imported frqr., ^

"-^T^Sentle;!^ 's asser
Aurelius Victor,

unci-

passed away.'

h numbers had been

exameter ?

to the testimony of Festus and of

'hom positively say that the most ancient

prophecies attributed lo the Fauns were in Saturnian verse.

4. Bentleys assertion is opposed to tho testimony of Terentianus
Maurus, to whom he has himself appealed. Terentianus Maurus
docs indeed say that the Saturnian measure, though believed by
the Romans from a very early period (' credidit vetustas') to be of
Italian invention, was really borrowed from the Greeks. But
Terentianus Maurus does not say that it was first borrowed by
Naevius. Nay, the expressions used by Terentianus Maurus clearly

PREFACE.

for himself, and which is a fine specimen of the early
lloman diction and versification, plaintively boasted that
the Latin language had died with him * Thus what to
Horace appeared to be the first faint dawn of Roman
literature, appeared to Naevius to be its hopeless setting.
In truth, one literature was setting, and another dawning.
The victory of the foreign taste was decisive ; and
indeed we can hardly blame the Romans for turning away
with contempt from the rude lays which had delighted
their fathers, and giving their whole admiration to the
immortal productions of Greece. The national romances,
neglected by the great and the refined whose education
had been finished at Rhodes or Athens, continued, it may
be supposed, during some generations, to delight the
vulgar. While Virgil, in hexameters of exquisite modu-
ktion, described the sports of rustics, those, rustics were
jnging their w'ld Saturnian ballads.f It is not
''^, at the time when Cicero lamented the
" 'i^oems mentioned by Cato, a search
^ines, as active as the search
gg the descendants of

the mos

.■s-'to^.

lave brought to

imply the contrary : forW lB^^MaaP . have believed, from
a very early period, that thisT^Ba^gMindigeno^:- Droduc-
tion of Latium, if it was really broJfUler from Greece in an
Zhl P ^T ^°^ ^^''^^ ^"'^"^^*y' ^^ *^« ^Se which gave

wr er« 7 Tfp' ." "'' ''"'" *'' ^^"^°^' «"^ °*^«^ distmguished
wruers? If Bentley's assertion were correct, there could have

been no more doubt at Rome about the Greek origin of the Satur-

* Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticse, i. 24.
t See Servius. in ftAornr a oqk

PREFACE. 21

light many fine remains of ancient minstrelsy. No such
search was made. The Latin ballads perished for ever
ret discerning critics have thought that they could still
percerve m the early history of Rome numerous fragments
ot this lost poetry, as the traveller on classic ground
sometimes finds, built into the heavy wall of a fort or
convent a pillar rich with acanthus leaves, or a frieze
where the Amajeons and Bacchanals seem to live The
theatres and temples of the Greek and the Roman were
degraded into the quarries of the Turk and the Goth
Lven so did the ancient Saturnian poetry become the'
quarry m which a crowd of orators and annalists found
the materials for their prose.

It is not difficult to trace the process by which the old
songs were transmuted into the form which they now
wear. Funeral panegyric and chronicle appear to have
been the intermediate links which connected the lost
ballads with the histories now extant. From a vei
period it was the usage that an oratioi
nounced over the remains of a " "^
as we learn from Pt

occasion to reca|,^

tors the deceaa^^^^^^^^^^^HB^^^'^^'

to the commpj;«^y^^^^MipPf^^t: 'T^'""'^
^.v.--*r-^^^ /^^^^■P^'^^t^le doubt that the

o^er on whom tlWWTwas imposed, would make use

of all the stories suited to his purpose which were to be

tound in the popular lays. There can be as little doubt

that the family of an eminent man would preserve a copy

of the speech which had been pronounced over his corpse

The compilers of the early chronicles would have recourse

to these speeches ; and the great historians of a later

period would have recourse to the chronicles.

!>•»•;

PREFACE.

It may be worth while to fleleot a particular Btory, an5
to trace its probable progress through these stages. The
description of the migration of the Fubian house t / Cre-
mora is one of the finest of the many fine passages which
lie thick in the earlier books of Livy. The Consul, clad
in his military garb, stands in the vestibule of his house,
marshalling his clun, three hundred and six fighting men,
all of the same proud patrician blood, all worthy to be
attended by the fasces, and to command the legions. A
sad and anxious retinue of friends accompanies the
adventurers through the streets ; but the voice of lamen-
tation is drowned by tlie shouts of admiring thousands.
As the procession passes the Capitol, prayers and vows are
poured forth, but in vain. The devoted band, leaving
Janus on the right, marches to its doom through the Gate
of Evil Lu \. After achieving high deeds of valour
against over»vhelming numbers, all perish save one child,
jkfrom which the great Fabian race was destined
the safety and glory of the common-
jmance, the details of which are
destitute of all
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ from some lay
which had' '^^^WQHHHj^^^^l^' applause at ban-
quets, is in the high^H^lHHp^ ^Nor is it diffi-
cult to imagine a mode in whic fflHf transmi - ri rtm raif^lit'
have taken place. The celebrated Quintus F-ibiu : M,.xi-
mus, who died about twenty years before the r irat Punic
War, and more than forty years before Ennius was born,
is said to have been interred with extraordinary pomp.
In the eulo.'^y pronounced over his body all the great
exploUf; 03' iiis iucestors were doubtless recounted and
exagg<^ ^'i^^^ , If there were th^n extant songs whieli jra v o

PREFACB,

a vivid and touching description of an evcnfc, the saddest
Jind the mowt glorious in th<' long liiHtory of the Pubian
house, nothing oould be more natural than that the pane-
gyrist should borrow from such songs their finest touches,
in order to adorn his speech. A few generations later the
songs would perliaps be forgotten, or remembered only by
shepherds and vine-dressers. But the speech would cer-
tainly be preserved in the archives of the Fabian nobles.
Fabius Pictor would be well acquainted with a document
so interesting to his personal feelings, and would insert
large extracts from it in his rude chronicle. That chro-
nicle, as we know, was the oldest to which Livy had access.
Livy would at a glance distinguish the bold strokes of the
forgotten poet from the dull and feeble narrative by which
they were surrounded, would retouch them with a delicate
and powerful pencil, and would make them immortal.

That this might happen at Rome can scarcely be doubt-
ed ; for something very like this has happened in severalv
countries, and, among others, in our own. Pej-ha^^ii^^
theory of Perizonius cannot be bettc
showing that what he s
ancient times
ti

gravity, 'has

^^'^^^^^■^■PPMmBftgar's amours, from which,
^ ^^HBI^^InTwe may form a conjecture of the rest.'
He^fRTtells very agreeably the stories of Elfleda and
Elfrida, two stories which have a most suspicious air of
romance, and which, indeed, greatly resemble, in their
general character, some of the legends of early Rome.
He cites, as his authority for those two tales, the chro-

»>'«1„ _i? ITT?!!* n -««■ 1 •• . -. - .

^iuic ui v. Hiiam 01 MaimesUury, wiio lived ift the time of"

PREFACE.

King Stephen. The great majority of readers suppose that
the d( /ice by which Elfrida was substituted for her young
mistress, the artifice by which AtheLvold obtained the
hand of Elfrida, the detection of that artifice, the hunting
party, and the vengeance of Ihe amorous king, are thin-s
about which there is no more doubt than about the execu-
tion of Anne Boleyn, or the slittingof Sir John Coventry's
nose. But when we turn to William of Malme3bury, we
find that Hume, in his eagerness to rebte these pleasant
fcb es, has overlooked one very important circumstance.
William does indeed tell both the stories ; but he gives
us distinct notice that he does not warrant their truth
and that they rest on no better authority than that of
ballads.*

Such is the way in which these two well-known tales

have been handed down. They originally appeared in a

poetical form. They found their way from ballads into

m^ old chronicle. The ballads perished ; the chronicle

^3^ ^^^ historian, some centuries after the

' ^ogether forgotten, consulted the

feely colouring of these

tive which is lite!

the inventions of some ml^l_. _^

bably never committed to writing, whose*^l_^,

in oblivion, and whose dialect has become obsoU?

•^i^'^fX-p^^

'0-

'ed
It

must, then, be admitted to be possible, or rather highly

« (

■■ Infaraias quaa post dicam magis resperserunt cantilenre '
Edgar appears to have been most mercilessly treated in the Anglo-

toaxon ballads. He was thfi fnimiirUnr^f +u ^„i , ., ^ .

and the minstrels were at deadly feud

PREFACE,

probable, that the stories of Romulus and Remus, and of
the Horatii and Curiatii, may have had a similar origin.

Castilian literature will furnish us with another parallel
case. Mariana, the classical historian of Spain, tells the
story of the ill-starred marriage which the King Don
Alonso brought about between the heirs of Carrion and
the two daughters of the Cid. The Cid bestowed a
princely dower on his sons-in-law. But the young men
were base and proud, cowardly and cruel. They were
tried in danger and found wanting. They fled before the
Moors, and once when a lion broke out of his den, they
ran and crouched in an unseemly hiding-place. They
knew that they were despised, and took counsel how they
might be avenged. They parted from their father-in-law
with many signs of love, and set forth on a journey with
Dona Elvira and Dofia Sol, In a solitary place the bride-
grooms seized their brides, stripped them, scourged them,
and departed, leaving them for dead. But
house of Bivar, suspecting foul play,
travellers in disguise. The ladies
to the hoiiise of their fati
king. It was

by the Cid ^^^^^■■^^■^HiPiP^rs of Car-
rion together JH^^HBHRI^^ould do battle
^^ of the Cid. The guilty

youths would iMfTTeolined the combat; but all their
shifts were vain. They were vanquished in the lists, and
for ever disgraced, while their injured wives were sought
in marriage by great princes.*

Some Spanish writers have laboured to show, by an
examination of dates and o,irnnTnaf.nnr>ofl fliof +v.;c

* Mariana, lib. x. cap. 4.

PREFACE,

'\\

untrue. Such confutation was surely not needed ; for the
narrative is on the face of it a romance. How it found i\»
way int.) Mariana's history is quite clear. He acknow-
■ lodges his obligations to the ancient chronicles; and had
doubtless before him the 'Chronica del famoso Cavallero
Old Ruy Diez Campeador/ which had been printed as
early as the year 155^ He little suspected that all the
most striking passages in this chronicle were copied from
a poem of the twelfth century, a poem of which the lan-
guage and versification had long been obsolete, but which
glowed with no common portion of the fire of the Iliad.
Yet such was the fact. More than a century and a half
after the death of Mariana, this venerable ballad, of which
one imperfect copy on parchment, four hundred years old,
had been preserved at Bivar, was for the first time printed'
Then it was found that every interesting circumstanc^
of^e story of the heirs of Carrion was derived by the

'i^^^^^ ^^^°* ^ ^°°^ of which he had never heard,

J Hj^ M^ I^ composed by a minstrel whose very name

^ BH | [W || H |||| H ^ ^^^ ^^^° ^he process

• ^ ^^^'flHHHRK0^^8R^HHII^K^^ transformed

^"'^^^^^^^^^"^^^a^^^''^^'^^ some
portions of early Rc^P^^^^gthe poetry out

of which they were made, is t^ft^H^^Piis^J^-

In the following poems the authSi'-^eaks, not in his

own person, but in the persons of ancient minstrels who

• **f '«*^.^ ^T""""^ ""^^'^ ^^^^^'^ ^^^« °f t^e Birar manuscript
m the firs volume of the Goleccion d. Poena, Castellanas anterU

Z f:^ I'. T'^' '' *'' '^"^^ °^^^^ ^^^^^ °f G-rion, in the
poem of the Oid, has been translated by Mr. Frere in a manner
above all praise.

PREFACE.

27:

know only what a Roman citizen, bom three or four htin-
dred years before the Christian sera, may be supposed to
have known, and who are in nowise above the passions and
prejudices of their age and nation. To these imaginary
poets must be ascribed some blunders which are so obvious
that it is unnecessary to point them out. The real blun-
der would have been to represent these old poets as deeply
versed in general history, and studious of chronological
accuracy. To them must also be attributed the illiberal
sneers at the Greeks, the furious party-spirit, the contempt
for the arts of peace, the love of war for its own sake, the
ungenerous exultation over the vanquished, which the
reader will sometimes observe. To portray a Roman of
the age of Camillus or Curius as superior to national anti-
pathies, as mourning over the devastation and slaughter
by which empire and triumphs were to be won, as looking
on human suffering with the sympathy of Howard, or as
treating conquered enemies with the delicacy of the Blacl
Prince, would be to violate all dramatic proprj
old Romans had some great virtues^
veracity, spirit to resist oi
authority, jfidelitj

estedness,
chivalrous 5.
"would
manner of a
been borrowe

and
^hem.
improper to mimic the
r age or country. Something has
however, from our own old ballads, and
more from Sir Walter Scott, the great restorer of our ballad-
poetry. To the Iliad Itill greater obligations are due ; and
those obligations have been contracted with the less hesita-
tion, because there is reason to believe that some of the
old Latin minstrels really had recourse to that inexhausti-
ble store of poetical images.

PREFACE.

It would have been easy to swell this little yolumeto »
ve^ co„a,derable bulk, by appending notes filTw^th

"ntort^Ld ,r f """* ™'"^^' ""^y "<»■'<• have little

di itZ °° " r ' "' ""= '"'^■"'«»» -11 always
aepend much more on the general character and spirit of
Buch a work than on minute details. ^

i' ^-.

HORATIITS.

There can be little doubt that among those parts of early
Roman history which had a poetical origin was the legend
of Horatius Codes. We have several versions of the story,
and these versions differ from eaclyg|her inp^||||of no
small importance. Polvb i i i i|||i[|ME^MMB^^^^^Bp^®>
heard the tale recii^iyiiH^^^H^^^^^^^^^Bteul
or Praetor

for hA^il^^^^H^^^^^^^^^I^^^HHpiiP^with

'ot embellishing

^arkable that, according

led the bridge alone, and perished

•s. According to the chronicles which I<ivy

^d Dionysius followed, Horatius had two companionSj

swam safe to shore, and was loaded with honours and

rewards.

Thftsfi diacreDanoiea are easilv exnlained. Our own

— - - j^- ■ - - ^ J.

literature, indeed, will furnish an exact parallel to what

mmmi-.-

J^^rs OF ANCIENT ROME.

compositions ich MvL^T": ^V^'''^ ^^
stand first in the ff.^' / . "• " *"" ''''"'«'« ''''ich
both those b llads 1 FnWit ""' ^"^'■•' ^''^''^- I"

%htwith the i t^SdlTet^r'-^f^^''^'
of the ballads the BouWas is til^ K ° '^ ^" ""«

archer, and the PerefbV?, 1 ^ '"'"'''^'' ^"S"*

Percy. Yet both h 1 n". ^™ ""' '^*^"S'='' ^^ '^e

" ^^^ <>* the minstrels says :

' Old ^en that knowen the grounde well yenoughe
^all It the battel! of Otterburn :
*" " erburqjjilfcn thia spurne

The otherpS

' Thjs fraye bj^S ,,,^^
Bjtwene the nyghte and thT.^
Ther the Dowglas lost hjs lyfe,'
And the Percy was lede away.''

It is by no means unlikely that there were two ohi
Roman lays about the defence of the brid^ anTthll
While the story which T.N.^ u., ._. .,,'=!' ^""^ ^^'^^^
J ,j nas txaubimi/tea to us was

H0RATIU8.

7 probable
(Served by
ds which
^etry. In
he Percy,

• In one

8 English
i: in the
ibat, and
ir Hugh
umbrian
li for the
e event,
thin the

! ballads

old

that,

3 was

preferred by the multitude, the other, which ascribed the
whole glory to Horatius alone, may have been the favourite
with the Horatian house.

The following ballad is supposed to have been made
about a hundred and twenty years after the war which it
celebrates, and just before the taking of Rome by the
Gauls. The author seems to have been an honest citizen,
proud of the military glory of his country, sick of the
disputes of factions, and much given to pining after good
old times which had never really existed. The allusion,
however, to the partial manner in which the public lands
were allotted could proceed only from a plebeian ; and the
allusion to the fraudulent sale of spoils marks the date of
the poem, and shows that the poet shared in the general
discontent with which the proceedings of Camillus, after
the taking of Veii, were regarded.

The penultimate syllable of the name Porsena has been
shortened in spite of the authority of Niebuhr, who pro-

^''^^^^HRBil^^lHBHl^PiMMR^^^^^^^^^^ Niebuhr

he must have uttered and heard uttered a hundred times
before he left school. Niebuhr seems also to have forgot-
ten that Martial has fellow-culprits to keep him in coun-
tenance. Horace has committed the same decided blunder ;
for he gives us, as a pure iambic line,

* Minacis aut Etrusca Porsense manus.'

LAra OF ANCIENT ROME.

a StTay,'" ''^'^'^ "''-^^'^ » 'he aa.e way,

and agair;-"" '''"'"" "'"'=" "<'"''"' ^«'"» ^ '
• Clusinum y„Ig„,, „„„, p<,„ena magna, jubebas.'

patrician tfbJu * ,"P^*«<:°*''*-« «f one of the three

..n.opte.t:L^.:~r -«---«

-^'^'^•'•<?'*t"«-.^_

•^«-A 9-^t^ef

HORATI

A LAY MADli ABOUT THB YE

OCCLX.

SNA 0^- Clusium
fe &ods he swore
Itr house of Tarquin
I'er wrong no more.
!ne Gods he swore it,
And named a try sting day,
An 1 bade his messengers ride forth.
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.

II.

East and west and south and north

The messengers ride fast.
And tower and town and cottage

Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan

Who lingers in his home,
Wht

Ti _r r^^. ;

Is on the march for Borne.

LAYS OF AyciENT ROME.

f horsemen and the footmea
•e pouring in amain
many a stately market-place ;
manyafruitfulplain;
^ny a lonely hamlet,
id by beech and pine,
■le's nest, hanga on the crest
' * Pennine J

IV.

terrao,

le far-famed hold
jOf giants
of old ;
Poptilonia,
Whose sentinels des
Sardinia's snowy mP
Fringing the southel

V. .

From the proud mart of Pis«e/

Queen of the western wavel,
Where ride Massilia's triremes

Heavy with fair-haired slaves ;
From where sweet Clanis wanders

Through corn and vines and flowers-
From where Cortona lifts to heaven

Her diadem of towers.

VI.

Tall are the oaks whose acorns

Trop in dark Auser's rill ;
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs

Of the Ciminian bill •

EORATIUS,

Beyond all streams OUtumnua

Is tcTthe herdsman dear;
Best of all pools the fowler loves

The great Volsinian mere.

vir.

But now no stroke of woodman

Is heard bj Auser's rill ;
No hunter tracks the stag's green path

Up the Oiminian hill;
Unwatched along Olitumnus

Grazes the milk-white steer;
Unharmed the water fowl may dip

In the Volsinian mere.

VIII.

The harvests of Arretium,

This year, old men shall reap,
This year, young boys in Umbro

Shall plunge the struggling sheep ;
And in the vats of Luna,

This year, the must shall foam
Round the white feet of laughing girls

Whose sires have marched to Rome.

IX.

There be thirty chosen prophets,

The wisest of the land.
Who alway by Lars Porsena

Both morn and evening stand :
Evening and morn the Thirty

Have turned the verses o'er.
Traced from the right on linen white

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

And with one voice the Thirty-
Have their glad answer given :

* Go forth, go forth, Lars Porscna ;
Go forth, beloved of Heaven :

Go, and return in glory
To Olusium's royal dome ;

And hang round Nurscia'a altars
The golden shields of Rome.'

XI.
And now hath every city

SSent up her tale of men ;
The foot are fourscore thousand,

The horse are thousands ten.
Before the gates of Sutrium

Is met the great array.
A proud man was Lars Porsena

Upon the trysting day.

XII.
For all the Etruscan armies"

Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman,

And many a stout ally ;
And with a mighty following

To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamilius,

Prince of the Latian name.

XIII.
But by the yellow Tiber

Was tumult and affright :
From all the spacious champaign

.- * — V 4U»:> fl:»ii4-

\3 IVUiliC lUCU VJXia. UIVU uxgtsvi

HOEATIUS.

A mile around the citj,

The throng stopped up the ways •
A fearAil sight it was to see

Through two long nights and dayg.

XIV.
For aged folks on crutches,

And women great with child,
And mothers sobbing oyer babes

That clung to them and smiled.
And sick men borne in litters

High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sun-burned husbandmen

With reaping-hooks and staves,
XV.

And droves of mules and asses

Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep

And endless herds of kine
And endless trains of waggons

That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn- sacks and of household goods

Choked every roaring gate.

XVI.
Now, from the rock Tarpeian,

Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages

Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the City,

They sat all night and day,
For every hour some horseman camp

With tidings of dismay.

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

XVII.
To eastward and to westward

Have spread the Tuscan bands ;
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote

In Orustumerium stands.
Verbenna down to Ostia

Hath wasted all the plain •
Astur hath stormed Janlculum

And the stout guards are slain.

XVIII.
I wis, in all the Senate,

There was no heart so bold.
But sore it ached, and fast it beat.

When that ill news was told.
Forthwith up rose the Consul,

Up rose the Fathers ail j
In haste they girded up their gowns,

And hied them to the wall.

XIX.
They held a council standing

Before the River-Gate j
Short time was there, ye well may guess,

For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:

' The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost.
Nought else can save the town.'
XX.
Just then a scout came flying.

All wild with haste and iear:
' To arjis ! to arms I Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here.'

H0RATIU8.

On the low hills to westward

The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust

Else fast alojug the sky.

XXI.

And nearer fast and nearer

Doth the red whirlwind come ;
And louder still and still more loud,
Prom underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,

The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly

Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,

The long array of spears.

XXII.

And plainly and more plainly,

Above that glimmering line.
Now might ye see the banners

Of twelve fair cities shine ;
But the banner of proud Clusium

Was highest of them all.
The terror of the Umbrian,

The terror of the Gaul.

XXIII.
And plainly and more plainly

Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest, hj horse and crest,

Each warlike Lucumo.

I^AVS OF ANCIENT ROME.
There Cilniua of Arretium

On his fleet roan was seen j
And Astur of the four-fold shield

Girt with the brand none else may wield,
Tolumnius with the belt of gold,

And dark Verbenna from the hold
Bj reedy Thrasymene,

XXIV.
Fast by the royal standard,

O'erlookiugallthewar, '
Lars Porsena of Clusium

Sat in his ivory car;
By the right wheel rode Mamilius

Prince of the Latian name J '
And by the left false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame.

XXV.

But when the face of Sextua
Was seen among the foes,

A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.

On the house-tops was no woman
But spat towards him and hissed
J^o child but screamed out curses, '
And shook Its little fist.

XXVI.

But the Consul's brow was sad,
And the Consul's speech was low,

And darkly looked hfi «> +K-. «,.]i
And darkly at the foe.

UORATIUS.

* Their van will be upon us

Before the bridge gees down ;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town ? '

xxvir.

Then out apake brave Horatiug,

The Captain of the Gate :
' To every man upon this earth

Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better

Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his Gods,

XXVIII.

* And for the tender mother

Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses

His baby at her breast.
And for the holy maidens

Who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus

That wrought the deed of shame ?

!, Sir ConsiJ, /
emay; \J

XXIX.

* Hew down the bridge

With all the speed ye
I, with two more to help me,

Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand

May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand.

And keep the bridge with me ?'

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

W 1i

XXX.

Then out spake Spurius Lartius ;

A Ramnian proud was ho :
'Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
And keep the-bridge with thee. '
And out spake strong Herminius

Of Titian blood was he :
'I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.
XXXI.
'Horatius,' quoth the Consul,

' As thou sayest, so let it be.'
And straight against that great array

Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome's quarrel
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son, nor wife, nor limb, nor life,
In the brave days of old.

XXXII,
Then none was for a party;

Then all were for the state ;
Then the great man helped the poor,
And the poor man loved the great':
Then lands were fairly portione'd ;

Then spoils were fairly sold :
The Romans were like brothers
In the brave days of old.

XXXIII.
Now Roman is to Roman

More hateful than a foe,
* "^■-' ^'■'■"^ix^^ oeara tiie high.

And the Fathers giind the low.

HORATIUS,

As we wax hot in faction,

In battle we wax cold :
Wherefore men fight not as they fought

In the brave days of old.

XXXIV.

Now while the Three were tightening

Their harness on their backs,
The Consul was the foremost man

To take in hand an axe :
And Fathers mixed with Commons

Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
And smote upon the planks above,

And loosed the props below.

XXXV.

Meanwhile the Tuscan army.

Right glorious to behold.
Came flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright

Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded

A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head,

Where stood the dauntless Three.

xxxvr.

The Three stood calm and silent.
And looked upon the foes.

And a great shout of laughter
From all the vanguard rose ;

si i

LAFS OF ANCIENT ROME.

And forth three chiefs came spurring

Before that deep array ;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew
And lifted high their shields, and flew

To win the narrow way •

XXXT

Annus from green Tifeuxum,

Lord of the Hill of Vines ;
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves

Sicken in lira's mines ;
And Pious, long to Clusium

Vassal in peace and war,
Who led to fight his Umbriau powers
From that grey crag where, girt with towers,
The "jrtress of Nequinum lowers

O'er the pale waves of Nar.

XXXVIII.

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus

Into the stream beneath :
Herminius struck at Seius,

And clove him to the teeth :
At Picus brave Horatius

Darted one fiery thrust •
And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms

Clashed in the bloody dust.

XXXIX.

Then Ocnus of Palerii

Rushed on the Roman Three •
And Lausulus of Urgo

The rover of the sea :

BORATIUS.

And Aruna of Volsinium,

"Who slew the great wild boar,
The great wild boar that had his den
Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,
And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
Along Albinia's shore.

XL.
Herminius smote down Aruns :

Lartius laid Ocaus low :
Bight to the heart of Lausulus

Horatius sent a blow.
* Lie there,' he cried, ' fell pirate I

No more, aghast and pale.
From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania's hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy

Thy thrice accursed sail.'

XLI.

But now no sound of laughter

Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamour

From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears' lengths from the entrance

Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth

To win the narrow way.

XLII.

But hark ! the cry is Astur:
And lo I the ranks divide ;

Comes with his stately stride.

II \

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

Upon hia ample shoulders

Clangs loud the fourfold shield
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield.
XLIII.
He smiled on those bold Romans

A smile serene and high •

He eyed the flinching Tuscans,

And scorn was in his eye.

Quoth he, 'The she-wolf slitter

Stand savagely at bay ;
But will ye dare to follow,
;, If Astur clears the v.ay ? >
XLIV.
Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height,
He rushed against Horatius, ' '

And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh j

I m,ssedh,s helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry

To see the red blood flow.
XLV.
He reeled, and on Herminius

He leaned one breathing-space;
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds
Sprang right at Astur's face. '

Through teeth, and skull, and helmet

So fierce a thrust he sped
The good 3-vvOfd stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan's head.

EORATIUS.

XLVI.

And the great Lord of Luna

Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus

A thunder-smitten oak.
I'ar o'er the crashing forest

The giant arms lie spread ;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,

Gaze on the blasted head.

XLVII.

On Astur's throat Horatius

Right firmly pressed his heel,
And thrice and four times tugged amain,

Ere he wrenched out the steel.
* And see,' he cried, * the welcome,

Fair guests, that waits you here I
What noble Lucumo comes next

To taste our Roman cheer ? '

XLVIII.
But at his haughty challenge

A sullen murmur ran,
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,

Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess,

Nor men of lordly race ;
For all Etruria's noblest

Were round the fatal place.

XLIX.

But all Etruria's noblest -

Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloodv coroses.

e* - A f

In the path the dauntless Three :

LArs OF ANCIENT ROME,

And, from the ghastly entrance

Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank, like boys who unaware,
Ranging the woods to start a hare, '
Come to the mouth of the dark lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
Lies amidst bones and blood.

Was none who would be foremost

To lead such dire attack:
But thoso behind cried 'Por^^ard 1'

And those before cried 'Back I'
And backward now and forward
t Wavers the deep array ;
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel j
And the victorious trumpet-peal
Dies fitfully away.

Yet one man for one moment
Stood out before the crowd;
Well known was he to all the Three,
^ And they gave him greeting loud,'
'Now welcome, welcome, SextusI

Now welcome to thy home 1
Why dcst thou stay, and turn away?
He] lies the road to Rome.'
LII.
Thrice looked he at the city;

Thrice looked he at the dead ;
And thrice came on in fury
And thrice turned back in dread ;

H0RATIU8.

And, white with fear and hatred,
Scowled at the narrow way

Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
The bravest Tuscan& lay.

LIII.
But meanwhile axe and lever

Have mnnfuUy been plied ;
And now the bridge hangs tottering

Above the boiling tide.
< Come back, come bacn, Horatius I '

Loud cried the Fathers all,
'Back, LartiusI back, HerminiusI

Back, ero the ruia fall 1 '

LIV.

Back darted Spurius Lartius ;

Herminius darted back ;
And, as they passed, beneath their feet

They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,

And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone.

They would have crossed once more.

LV.

But with a crash like thunder

Fell every loosened beam,
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck

Lay right athwart the ttream ;
And a long shout of triumph

Eosc from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops

I^Ars OF ANCIENT ROME.

\i-

V-'A HI

LVI. ']
And, like a horse unbroken

When first l.e feela the rein,
The furious river struggled hlrd,

And tossed his tawny mane,
And burst the curb, and bounded,

Rejoiofng to be free,
^.nd whirling down, in fierce career
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
.Hushed headlong to the sea. '
LVII.
Alone stood brave Horatius,
But constant still in mind ;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.

' Down with him I 'cried false Sextus,
With a smile on his pale face

'Now yield thee,' cried Lars Porsena,
'Now yield thee to our grace.'
LVIII.
Bound turned he, as not deigning

Those craven ranks to see ;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,

To Sextus nought spake he ;
But he saw on Palatinus

The white porch of his home ;
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.
LIX.
' Oh, Tiber ! father Tiber I

To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman's life, a Roman's aras.
--- V v:^.^x3. ia cnarge this day 1 '

n OR AT I us.

So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The Rood sword by his side,

And with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in tho tide.

LX.

No sound of joy or sorrow

Was heard from either bank
But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
With parted lips and straining eyes,

Stood gazing where he sank ;
And when above the surges

They saw his crest appear,
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany

Could scarce forbear to cheer.

LXI.

But fiercely ran the current.

Swollen high by months of rain :
And fast his blood was flowing

And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armour.

And spent with changing blows :
And oft they thought him sinking,

But still again he rose.

LXII.

Never, I ween, did swimmer,

In such an evil case.
Struggle through such a raging flood

Safe to the landing place :
D

III I

J^AFS OF ANCIENT ROME,

But bis limbs were borne up bravely
Bj tbe brave heart within

And our good father Tiber
Bore bravely up his chin.*

LXIII.

' Curse on him I 'quoth false Seztus J

'Will not the villain drown? ' '
But for this stay, ere close of day

We should have sacked the town V
'Heaven help him I ' quoth Lars Porsena

' And bring him safe to shore j
For such a gallant feat of arms '

Was never seen before.'

LXIV.

And now he feels the bottom ;
• Now on dry earth he stands';
Now round him throng the Fathers

To press his gory hands ;
And now, with shouts and clapping,

And noise of weeping loud
He enters through the River-Gate
Borne by the joyous crowd. '

* 'Our ladye bare upp her chinne.'

'Never heavier nianandhorse ^'^'"'^ '^ ^^^'^^ ^«'«»'^.

Stemmed a midnight torrei.t'8 force.

* * - '

* #

Ye», through good heart n„d „„ j*,^ ,, *
At.eng.nheg.,„e<.,t<,I.„<,tagp,.„,r*™°'

I^y qfthe Last Minstrel, I.

H0RAT1U8. -

LXV.

They gave him of the corn-land,

That was of public right,
As much as two strong oxen

Could plough from morn till night;
And they made a molten image.

And set it up oq high,
And there it stands unto this day

To witness if I lie,

LXVI.

It stands in the Comitium,

Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,

Halting upon one knee :
And underneath is written,

Jn letters all of gold,
How valiantly he kept the bridge

In the brave days of old.

LXVII,

And still his name sounds stirring

Unto the men of Rome,
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them

To charge the Volscian home ;
And wives still pray to a uno

For boys with hearts as oold
As his who kept the bridge so well

In the brave days of old.

LXVIII.

And in the nights of winter.
When the cold north winds blow,

Autl Ibe long howling of the wolves
Ts heard amidst the snow;

f -

LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME.

When round the lonely cottage
Roars loud the tempest's din,

And the good logs of Algidus
Roar louder yet within ;

LXTX.

When the oldest cask is opened,

And the largest lamp is lit ;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,

And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle

Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,

And the lads are shaping bows ;

LXX.

When the goodraan mends his armour.

And trims his helmet's plume ;
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily

Goes flashing through the loom ;
With weeping and with laughter

Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge

In the brave days of old.

THE

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

The following poem is supposed to liare teen produced
about ninety years after the lay of Horatius. Some
persons mentioned in the lay of Horatius make their
appearance again, and some appellations and epithets
used in the lay of Horatius have been purposely repeated :
for, in an age of ballad-poetry, it scarcely ever fails
to happen, that certain phrases come to be appropriated
to certain men and things, and are regularly applied
to those men and things by every minstrel. Thus we
find, both in the Homeric poems and in Hesiod, piTj
'EpaK^eiTijirepcKUTo^ ' Afi<j>iyv^eic, dtaKTopog ' ApyeKpdvTTjg, iTrrdnvTioc
Qril^Vf 'E?iv;7f evek' T/mdfioio. Thus, too, in our own national
songs, Douglas is almost always the doughty Douglas :
England is merry England : all the gold is red ; and all
the ladies are gay.

The principal distinction between the lay of Horatius
ar^A fV^o Iq-it nf flio T.nlfe Rpp-illus is that the former
is meant to bs purely Roman, while the latter, though

^''^S OF A^Cm^^j^O^^

I I

I! !i

national in its o-eneral ««• -. ,
Greek learning and ofCTL^X^''''' '-"o'"- of
the Tarquins, as it has cole doT"""- ''"^ '^^^ "'
been oo^ppiJed from the worts "Tl i 'PP'*" *° ''"ve
«nd one, at least, „f thosIZ "' P^P"'"^ P»ets ;

tie Greek coioni; i„ iZy'T^JT' *^ """'" ^^-ted
We had some acq„ainta/e'e wit! thf" ^"' '"^ '^
and Herodotus. Manv of fh. • '^'"'''' "^ Homer
of the house .f TaT^ „ ^^1^'"''"^ ""-"*--
"Ppfearance, have a Greek .7 "'""'' °"'''^» W

themselves are represented as r-'t;-- ''''* '"-<>-■>»
peat house of the Baeoh ad^ d""^° '"''"«'' of the
by the tyranny of that ^pseirt "" ''"''"'"-''y
strange escape Herodotus haf 1 ]!^ ' '"'"' "f '^hose
^n-plicity and liveliness * r '^'' 'l'*'' "comparable
<» that, when Tarquin the Pro, 7 ' f '™^^''"» tell ^
the best mode „f goverlif! """'^ "^"^ ^'^^

-plied onl, by beaLrd wn 1;:^"""' '"*^' '"'
^«-t poppies in his gfrdert Thi '""" *" *«
Herodotus, in the passage to w[ich!.f' " '^"""^ '''•"t
been made, relates of the crunse "" '"" '^''^'^y

-of Cpselus. The strati ^n^L^'r'^-'''''
Gabu ,s brought under the power j!i ^^^ '"'"' "f
again, obviously copied from r! J ""^ '^'"^»'''» ".

oftheyoungTa^uLJro^SB-!.^?'^^"''''''^
a story as would be told bv IT, !^^^^' " J»«ts«ch

of the Greek mytholot ^?r' '""'^? '«"«'''«« fuU
returned by Apollo is in the e. . ""biguous answer

Herodotus, v. 92. Livy i P4 n-
t Herodotus, iii. 1/54 r./„_ . ._

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REQILLUS.

destruction. Then the character of the narrative changes.
From the first mention of Lucretia to the retreat of
Porsena nothing seems to be borrowed from foreign
sources. The villany of Sextus, the suicide of his
victim, the revolution, the death of the sons of Brutus,
the defence of the bridge, JNliicius burning his hand,*
Cloelia swimming through Tiber, seem to be all strictly
Roman. But when we have done with the Tuscan war,
and enter upon the war with the Latines, we are again
struck by the Grreek air of the story. The Battle of the
Lake Regillus is in all respects a Homeric battle, except
that the combatants ride astride on their horses, instead
of driving chariots. The mass of fighting men is hardly
mentioned. The leaders single each other out, and
engage hand to hand. The great object of the warriors
on both sides is, as in the Iliad, to obtain possession
of the spoils and bodies of the slain ; and several
circumstances are related which forcibly remind us of
the great slaughter round the corpses of Sarpedon and
Patroclus.

But there is one circumstance which deserves especial
notice. Both the war of Troy and the war of Regillus
were caused by the licentious passions of young princes,
who were therofore peculiarly bound not to be sparing
of their own persons in the day of battle. Now the
conduct of Sextus at Regillus, as described by Livy, so
exactly resembles that of Paris, as described at the
beginning of the third book of the Iliad, that it is diffi-

* M. de Pouilly attempted, a hundred and twenty years ago, to
prove that the story of Mucins was of Greek origin ; bui he waq

d6mie des Imcriptions, vi. 27. 66.

^^Ys OP ANcimr ROME.

cult to believe the resemblance accident,! P •

before the Trojan ranka, defyinTtt v ^""rPP*"""

encounter him : "wj'ng the bravest Greek to

i-ivy introduces Sextus in a simil.,

juvenun, Tarquiniun, ostent.nr """"''■■ '^^^^^^

-ie.' Menellsr„sh;::irPari:7r "™'""'
eager for vengeance, spurs his IZ ttlrr^'

:r:'!: ™ -- ^-'-*'^ terrori r^-.

larquinius,' says Liw ' r»t,.„ •
infenso cessit hosti ' If tLy. I ^^^ ™»™n>

RegiUus was decided bv s„ner„»? , ^'''' ^"^ "^
"nd Pollux, it was said hJT . "^ "^'""y- Castor
at the head'of ZY^'o^^^ 'TfJ' ^™«'' -1 -ounted,
afterwards carried tlfe news of ,t '"""'"''"^^'''*. and had
«peed to the city. TlTZiln^l T'^"'* """"^'Wo
J>ad alighted wis poinTed 1" WeVli"''"'' ^"^^
ancient temple. A orpa* «.,.," *''® '^'='' rose their
honour on the Idefof Oui! T '"' ^'P' '» ^^eir
anniversary of the baftl. !^ ' '"^^"""^ '" ^ the
Mcrifices L. „ff"--d ; ' "" "'"' '^'y «umnt„o.,»
— ■•ff...d» them atthe public charge.' O^e

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

spot on th3 margin of Lake Regillns was regarded during
many ages with superstitious awe. A mark, resembling
in shape a horse's hoof, was discernible in the volcanic
rock ; and this mark was believed to have been made by
one of the celestial chargers.

How the legend originated cannot now be ascertained :
but we may easily imagine several ways in which it
might have originated; nor is it at all necessary to
suppose, with Julius Frontinus, that two young men
were dressed up by the Dictator to personate the sons of
Leda. It is probable that Livy is correct when he says
that the Roman general, in the hour of peril, vowed a
temple to Castor. If so, nothing could be more natural
than that the multitude should ascribe the victory to the
favour of the Twin Gods. When such was the prevailing
sentiment, any man who chose to declare that, iu the
midst of the confusion and slaughter,- he had seen two
godlike forms on white horses scattering the Latines,
would find ready credence. We know, indeed, that, in
modem times, a very similar story actually found
credence among a people much more civilised than the
Romans of the fifth century before Christ. A chaplain
of Cortes, writing about thirty years after the conquest
of Mexico, in an age of printing presses, libraries, univer-
sities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and statesmen, had the
face to assert that, in one engagement against the
Indians, Saint James had appeared on a grey horse at
the head of the Castilian adventurers. Many of those
adventurers were living when this lie was printed.
One of them, honest Bernal Diaz, wrote an account of

+1,^ ju;^y, TT.^ Vjs'l ^^'^ PviflPTipp. of his own senses

against the legend ; but he seems to have distrusted even

LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME,

wio oatwo, and tliat ho saw a irrov hor^n ^x.u\.

lo de'£, 'td „::: "'"■ 'I, '"^ """^-""' ^-'-

uo iiuiia, and not fcho cver-b osscd anosHn «,.,•«*
Ja»o,. .Novonhelo. - Bor„,,l ,.dd, "it ly bo Z
tho pcrsoa on the groy ho«o was the glorious ll

to"':: w' ""tI '"i^ '' ^'"""^ """ 'f -' - ~ y

TO see nun. The Romans of tho a.^o of n;„«; .
TO«i.ii ««^k ui . "^ ^^ vyincinnatus

i.iries tno j-mii. It 18 therefore conceivable that
the appearance of C»,,tor and Pollux ™ay have bee 1

Jought at Regill,.., had pas.,ed away. Nor could anythinsr be

bear the tidings of victory to Home.

bee^buiH Tv"" '"""'''""' "" ^"'^ ^-^^ h«d

tltlL? •, ""■•■"?'"' '•^ ^'"'''' ""> «*«*« annual ly
te tmed ite gratitude for their protection. Q„i„tus

moitT ^"P""\»-'- -™ «>oeted Censors at a
momentous ensis. It had become absolutely necessary

On that classification depended the distribution of poli-

seemed to be in danger of falling under the dominion

trZLLr""^f^"'^^ "'■ "^ "" '""o^'"" "nd head-
strong rabble. Under such eireumstances, the most illus-

tnous patrician and the most illustrious plebeian of the age

^ere intrusted with the office of arbitrating between L

angry factions, and they performed their arduous task to

we sauaaotioa of all honest and reasonable men.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REOILLUS.

Ono of their reforms was a remodelling of the eques-
trian order ; and, having eflFected this reform, they deter-
mined to give to their work a sanction derived from
religion. In the chivalrous societies of modern times,
which have much more than may at first sight appear in
common with the equestrian order of Rome, it has been
usual to invoke the special protection of some Saint, and
to observe his day with peculiar solemnity. Thus the
Companions of the Garter wear the image of Saint George
depending from their collars, and meet, on great occasions,
in Saint George's Chapel. Thus, when Lewis the Four-
teenth instituted a new order of chivalry for the rewarding
of military merit, ho commended it to the favour of his
own glorified ancestor and patron, and decreed that all
the members of the fraternity should meet at the royal
palace on the feast of Saint Lewis, should attend the
king to chapel, should hear mass, and should subsequently
hold their great annual assembly. There is a consi-
derable resemblance between this rule of the order of
Saint I^ewis and the rule which Fabius and Decius made
respecting the Roman knights. It was ordained that a
grand muster and inspection of the equestrian body
should be part of the ceremonial performed, on the
anniversary of the battle of RegiUus, in honour of
Castor and Pollux, the two equestrian Gods. All the
kni^-hts, clad in purple and crowned with olive, were to
meet at a temple of Mars in the suburbs. Thence they
were to ride in state to the Forum, where the temple of
the Twins stood. This pageant was, during several
centuries, considered as one of the most splendid sights of
Rome. In the time of Dionysius the cavalcade some-

'62

J^'ArS OF ANCTENT ROME.

'o who., by the oonXL ; «!!' '"^ '''"""^'

enco of the public worshin IT T' ^P"""**-"!-

that those high l^Zt^tT '■ """^ '' '' P™'"''"«

. fonu„ate e„o"u,h TZ T^ZZ'l CI^"'

some warrant for the innovation t™dit,ono

thir;:;t:irz:r ir ""-^ ^^^" -^o^ ^-

the religion, festivals "«„:: "Z "" f '"'*^' "*
iadeed from so early a p^rioT tW '"'^ P'^""'''-

ve.es were popnlarl/aL^be ItC::;:;'''^ '^r
unintelligible in thp «c,o ^ ''"^^"oia, and were utterly

P-o War a ^^^ i^St If S t hotn^of^r "^

unoonth, Lmert;2rwtrsrr ^"^

A song, as we learn from Ho 1 1 1 ""'"f

established ritual at the ^eaTsenllT kT' "' *'^

therefore likely that the Censors and p" rf t '* ''

•Bad resolved to add a grand p o esd'n of I ' T'" "'"^

other solemnities annually peXre/n ^fr]" *'''

Quiotili., would eali in th"^, awTa It S . '" "'

would naturallv f«lrp f« i,- , ^ ' ^"^^ * Poet

H the ap^L:f y;?sr;s r r "^•"'^^'-

wxn uoas, and the institution

t Livj, xxvu. 37. + 4 «

+ xiur. v;armeu oecuiare.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE RE0ILLU8,

of their festival. He would find abundant materials in
the ballads of his predecessors ; and he would make free
use of the scanty stock of Greek learning which he had
himself acquired. He would probably introduce some
wise and holy Pontiff enjoining the magnificent cere-
monial which, after a long interval, had at length been
adopted. If the poem succeeded, many persons would
commit it to memory. Parts of it would be sung to the
pipe at banquets. It would be peculiarly interesting to
the great Posthumian House, which numbered among its
many images that of the Dictator Aulus, the hero of
Regillus. The orator who, in the following generation,
pronounced the funeral panegyric over the remains of
Lucius Posthumius Megellus, thrice Consul, would
borrow largely from the lay; and thus some passages,
much disfigured, would probably find their way into the
chronicles which were afterwards in the hands of Diony-
sius and Livy.

Antiquaries differ widely as to the situation of the field
of buttle. The opinion of those who suppose that the
armies met near Cornufelle, between Frascati and the
Monte Porzio, is at least plausible, and has been followed
in the poem.

As to the details of the battle, it has not been thought
desirable to adhere minutely to the accounts which have
come down to us. Those accounts, indeed, differ widely
from each other, and, in all probability, differ as widely
from the ancient poem from 'wrhich they were originally

derived.

It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imitations

of the Iliad, which have been purposely introduced.

thu

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note I

Ho, lictors, clear the way I
The Knights will ride, in all their pride

Along the streets to-day.
To-daj the doors and windows
Are hung with garlands all,
From Castor in the Forum,

To Mars without the wall.
Each Knight is robed in purple,

With olive each is crowned ;
A gallant war-horse under each

Paws haughtily the ground.
While flows the Yellow River,

While stands the Sacred Hill,
The proud Ides of Quintilis
Shail have such honour still.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REQILLUS.

Q&j are the Martian Kalends :

December's Nones are gay :
But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides,

Shall be Rome's whitest day.

li.

Unto the Great Twin Brethren

We keep this solemn feast.
Swift, swif^ the Great Twin Brathren

Game spurring from the east.
They came o'er wild Parthenius

Tossing in waves of pine,
O'er Cirrha'8 dome, o'er Adria's foam,

O'er purple Apennine,
From where with flutes and dances

Their ancient mansion rings,
In lordly Lacedsemon,

The City of two kings,
To where, by Lake Regillus,

Under the PorCian height,
All in the lands of Tusculum,

Was fought the glorious fight.

III.

Now on the place of slaughter

Are cots and sheepfolds seen,
And rows of vines, and fields of wheat,

And apple-orchards green ;
The swine crush the big acorns

That fall from Gome's oaks.
Upon the turf by the Fair Fount

The reaper's pottage smokes.
The fisher baits bis angle ;

The hunter twangs his bow ;

6ft

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

Little they think on those strong limbs

That moulder deep below.
Little they think how sternly

That day the trumpets pealed;
How in the slippery swamp of blood

Warrior and war-horse reeled ;
How wolves came with fierce gallop,

And crows on eager wings

To tear the flesh of captains,
And peck the eyas of kings;

How thick the dead lay scattered

Under the Porcian height;
How through the gates of Tusculum

^ Raved the wild stream of flight;
And how the Lake Regillus

Bubbled with crimson foam,
What time the Thirty Cities

Came forth to war with Rome.

IV.

But, Roman, when thou standewt

Upon that holy ground
Look thou with heed on the dark rock

That girds the dark lake round,
So Shalt thou see a hoof-mark
Stamped deep into the flint:
It was no hoof of mortal steed

That made so strange a dint :
There to the Great Twin Brethren
^ Vow thou thy vows, and pray
That they, in tempest and in fight,
Will keep thy head alway.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE RE0ILLU8.

Since last the Great Twin Brethren

Of mortal eyes were seen,
Have years gone by an hundred

And fourscore and thirteen.
That summer a Virginius

"Was Consul first in place;
The second was stout Aulus,

Of the Posthumian race.
The Herald of the Latines

From Gabii came in state :
The Herald of the Latines

Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate :
The Herald of the Latines

Did in our Forum stand ;
And there he did his office,
A sceptre in his hand.

VI.

* Hear, Senators and people

Of the good town of Rome,
The Thirty Cities charge you

To bring the Tarquins home ;
And if ye still be stubborn.

To work the Tarquins wrong.
The Thirty Cities warn you.

Look that your walls be strong

VII.

Then spake the Consul Aulus,

He spake a bitter jest :

' Once the jays sent a message

Unto the cuglc's nest :—
E

I^AFS OF ANCIENT ROME.

Now yield thou up thine eyrie

Unto the carrion-kite,
Or come forth valiantly, and face

The jays in deadly fight.—
Forth looked in wrath the eagle j

And carrion-kite and jay,
Soon as they saw his beak and claw,

Fled screaming far away.'

viir.

The Herald of the Latines

Hath hied him back in state ;
The Fathers of the City
' Are met in high debate.
Then spake the elder Consul,
An ancient man and wise :
* Now hearken, Conscript Pathera,

To that which I advise.
In seasons of great peril

'Tis good that one bear sway,-
Then choose we a Dictator,
Whom all men shall obey.
Camerium knows how deeply

The sword of Aulus bites,
And all our city calls him

The man of seventy fights.
Then let him be Dictator

For six months and no more,
And have a Master of the Knights,
And axes twenty-four.'

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

IX.

So Aulas was Dictator,

The man of seventy fights ;
He made -^butius Elva

His Master of the Knights.
On the third morn thereafter,

At dawning of the day,
Did Aulus and -(Ebutius

Set forth with their array.
Sempronius Atratinus

Was left in charge at home
With boys, and with grey-headed men,

To keep the walls of Rome.
Hard by the Lake Regillus

Our camp was pitched at night :
Eastward a mile the Latines lay.

Under the Porcian height.
Far over hill and valley

Their mighty host was spread ;
And with their thousand watch-fires

The midnight sky was red.

Up rose the golden morning

Over the Porcian height,
The proud Ides of Quintilis

Marked evermore with white.
Not without secret trouble

Our bravest saw the foes ;
For girt by threescore thousand spears,

The thirty standards rose.
From every warlike city

That boasts the Latian name,

'f f

LAYS OF AJSrCIENT HOME.

Foredoomed to dogs and vultures,

That gallant army came-
From Setia's purple vineyards,

From Norba's ancient wall,
From the white streets of Tusculum,

The proudest towu of all ;
From where the Witch's Fortress

O'erhangs the dark-bluo seas;
. From the sUU ghissy lake that sleeps

Beneath Aricia's trees—
Those trees in whoso dim shadow

The ghastly priest doth reisfn,
The priest who slew the slayer
And shall himself be slain j
From the drear banks of Ufens

Where flights of marsh-fowl play,
And buffaloes lie wallowing

Through the hot summer's day;
From the gigantic watch-towers,

No work of earthly men,
Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook

The never-ending fen ;
From the Laurentian jungle,

The wild I og's reedy home ;
From the green steeps whence Anio leaps
In floods of snow-white foam.

Aricia, Cora, Norba,
Velitrre, with the might

Of Setia and of Tusculum,
Were marshalled on the right:

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGTLLUS.

The leader was Mamiliua,

Prince of the Latian name ;
Upon his head a helmet

Of red gold shone like flame ;
High on a gallant charger

Of dark-grey hue he rode ;
Over his gilded armour

A vest of purple flowed,
Woven in the land of sunrise

By Syria's dark-browed daughters,
And by the sails of Carthage brought

Far o'er the southern waters.

XII.

Lavinium and Laiirentum

Had on the left their post,
With all the banners of the marsh,

And banners of the coast.
Their leader was false Scxtus,

That wrought the deed of shame :
With restless pace and haggard face

To his last field he came.
Men said he saw strange visions
Which none beside might see,
And that strange sounds were in his ears

Which none might hear but he.
A woman fair and stately,
But pale as are the dead,
Oft through the watches of the night

Sat spinning by his bed.
And as she plied the distaff,
In a sweet voice and low,

LAFS OF ANCIENT ROME.

She sang of great old houses,
And fights fought long^go.

So spun she, and so sang she,'
Until the east was grej

Then pointed to her bleeding breast
And shrieked, and fled awaj. '

XIII.
But in the centre thickest

Were ranged the shields of foes,
And from the centre loudest

i'iie cry of battle rose.
There Tibur marched and Pedum
■ Bene^ th proud Tarquin'g rule,

And Ferentinum of the rock, ' ■
AndGabiiofthepool.

There rode the Volscian succours:
There, in a dark stern ring,

The Roman exiles gathered close

Around the ancient king.
Though white as Mount Soracte,

When winter nights are long

His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt

His heart and hand were strong :
Under his hoary eyebrows

Still flashed forth quenchless rage,
And, if the lance shook in his gripe,'

'Twas more with hate than age.
Close at his side was Titus

On an Apulian steed,
Titus, the youngest Tarquin,
Too good f..;r such a breed.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

XIV.

Now on each side the leaders

Give signal for the charge ;
And on each side the footmen

Strode on with lance and targe ;
And on each aide the horsemen

Struck their spurs deep in gore,
And front to front the armies

Met with a mighty roar :
And under that great battle

The earth with blood was red ;
And, like the Pomptine fog at morn,

The dust hung overhead ;
And louder still and louder

Hose from the darkened field "
The braying of the war-horns,

The clang of sword and shield,
The rush of squadrons sweeping

Like whirlwinds o'er the plain.
The shouting of the slayers,

And screeching of the slain-

XV.

False Sextug rode out foremost:

His look was high and boldj
His corslet was of bison's hide,

Plated with steel and gold.
As glares the famished eagle

From the Digentian rock
On a choice lamb that bounds alone

Before Bandusia's flock, ^

Herminius glared on Sextus,

.^iid came witu eagle speed.

[I If

1 1

LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME,

Herminius on black Auster,

Brave champion on brave steed •
Jn his right hand the broadsword '

That kept the bridge so well,
And on his helm the crown he won

When proud Fidena? fell.
Woe to the maid whose lover
Shall cross his path to-day J
False Sextus saw, and trembled,

And turned, and fled away.
As turns, as flies, the woodman
In the Calabrian brake

, Of that fell speckled snake J
So turned, so fled, false Septus,

And hid him in the rear,
Behind the dark Lavinian ranks,

Bristling with crest and spear!

XVI.

But far to north ^butius.

The Master of the Knights,
Gave Tubero of Norba

To feed the Porcian kites.
Next under those red horse-hoofs

Flaccus of Setialayj
Better had he been pruning
Among his elms that day.
Mamilius saw the slaughter,

And tossed his golden crest,
And towards the Master of the Knights
Through the thick battle pressed.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE RE0ILLU3.

^butius smote Mamilius

So fiercely on the shield
That the great lord of Tusculum

Well nigh rolled on the field.
Mamilius smote vEbiitius,

With a good aim and true,
Just where the neck and shoulder join,

And pierced him through and through;
And brave ^butius Elva

Fell swooning to the ground :
But a thick wall of bucklers

Encompassed him around.
His clients from the battle

Bare him some little space.
And filled a helm from the dark lake,

And bathed his brow and face ;
And when at last he opened

His swimming eyes to light,
Men say, the earliest word he spake

Was, ' Friends, how goes the fight ? '

XVII.

But meanwhile in the centre

Great deeds of arms were wrought;
There Aulus the Dictator

And there Valerius fought.
Aulus with his good broadsword

A bloody passage cleared
To where, amidst the thickest foes,

He saw the long white beard.
Flat lighted that good broadsword

Upon proud Tarquiu's head.

7«

III

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROMS.

He dropped the lance: he dropped the reins
He fell as fall the dead.

Down A'llll, v,,,,^^g t,o gJa^ Jj.^^

With ^-,.j; ,.'. r^alsoffirej
But faster Titus hath sprung down,

And hath bestrode his sire.
Latian captains, Homan knights,

Fast down to earth \hoj -, ,p
And hand to hand they fight'on foot

Around the ancient king.
First Titus gave tall Ca?so

A death wound in the face ;
Tall Cjrso was the bravest mau
;,0f the brave Fabian race :
Aulus slew Rex of Gabii,

The priest of Juno's shrine:
Valerius smote down Julius,

Of Rome's great Julian line;
Julius, who left his mansion

Highon the Velian hill,
And through all turns of weal and woe

Followed proud Tarquin still.
Now right across proud Tarquin

A corpse was Julius laid ;
And Titus groaned with rage and grief,

And at Valerius made.
Valerius struck at Titus,

And lopped off half his crest ;
But Titus stabbed Valerius

A span deep in the breast. -
Like a mast snapped by the tempest,
Valerius reeled and fell.

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGTLLUS.

Ah ! woe 18 mo for the good h6uae

That loves the people well I
Then shouted loud the Latines ;

And with one rush they bore
The struggling Romans backward

Three lances' length and more:
And up they took proud Tarquin,

And laid him on a shield,
And four strong yeomen bare him,

Still senseless, from the field.

XVIII.

But fiercer grew the fighting

Around Valerius dead ;
For Titus dragged him by the foot,

And Aulus by the head.
' On, Latines, on 1' quoth Titus,

' See how the rebels fly 1 '
'Romans, stand firm!' quoth Aulus,

' And win this fight or die I
They must not give Valerius

To raven and to kite ;
For aye Valerius loathed the wrong,

And aye upheld the right :
And for your wives and babies

In the front rank he fell.
Now play the men for the good house

That loves the people well 1'

XIX.

Then tenfold round the body

The roar of battle rose,
Like the roar of a burning forest,

When a strong north wind blows.

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

Now backward, and now forward,

Rocked furiously the fray,
Till none could see Valerius,

And none wist where he lay.
For shivered arms and ensigns

Were heaped there in a mound,
And corpses stiff, and dying men

That writhed and gnawed the ground ;
And wounded horses kicking,
And snorting purple foam :
Right well did such a couch befit
A Consular of Rome.

XX.

But north looked the Dictator;

North looked he long and hard ;
And spake to Caius Oossus,

The Captain of his Guard ;
'Caius, of all the Romans

Thou hast the keenest sight •
Say, what through yonder storm of dust

Comes from the Latian right?'

XXI.

Then answered Caius Oossus :

' I see an evil sight ;
The banner of proud Tusculum

Comes from the Latian right ;
I pee the plumed horsemen j

And far before the rest
I see the dark-grey charger,
I see the purple vest ;

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

I see the golden helmet

That shinca far off like flame ;
Bo ever rides Marailius,

Prince of the Latian name.'

XXII.

' Now hearken, Oaiua Oossus :

Spring on thy horse's back ;
Ride as the wolves of Apennine

Were all upon thy track ;
Haste to our southward battle :

And never draw thy rein
Until thou find Herminius,

And bid him come amain.'

XXIII.

So Aulas spake, and turned him

Again to that fierce strife ;
And Caius Oossus mounted,

And rode for death and life.
Loud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs

The helmets of the dead,
And many a curdling pool of blood

Splashed him from heel to head.
So came he far to southward.

Where fought the Roman host,
Against the banners of the marsh

And banners of the coast.
Like corn before the sickle

The stout Lavinians fell,
Beneath the edge of the true sword

TVjn* V-y-r^* +U" \^~:a — 11

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

vX IB !

XXIV.

'IlcrtniniusI Aulas greets tlico;
i\v> bids ihcu como with speed
To lielp our coulnil battle ;

For sore .'^ there our need.
There wars the youngost Tarquin,

And there the Orest of Flame
The Tusculan Mumilius,

Prince of the Latian name.
Valerius hath fallen fighting

In front of our array :
And Aldus of the seventy fields
Alone upholds the day.'

XXV.

Hcrminius beat his bosom :

But never a word ho spako.
Ho clapped his Hnd on Auster's mane :

He gave the reins a shako,
Away, away went Austcr,

Like an arrow from the bow ;
Black Auster was the fleetest steed

From Aufidus to Po.

XXVI.

Right glad were all the Romans

Who, in that hour of dread,
Against great odds bare up the war

Around Valerius dead.
When from the south the cheering

Rose with a mighty swell;
'Hcrminius comes, Hcrminius,

Who kept the bridge so well !'

U i

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

XXVII.
Mamilius spied HerminiuB,

And dashed across the way.
'llerminius I I have sought the©

Through many a bloody day.
One of us two, llerminius,

Shall never more go homo.
I will lay on for Tusculum,

And lay thou on for Homo I '

XXVIIT.
All round them paused the battle,

While mot in mortal fray
The Roman and the Tusculan,
The horses black and grey.
Herminius smote Mamilius

Through breast-plate and through breast;
And fast flowed out the purple blood

Over the purple vest.
Mamilius smote Herminius

Through head piece and through head ;
And side by side those chiefs of pride

Together fell down dead.
Down fell they dead together

In a great lake of gore ;
And still stood all who saw them fall
While men might count a score.

XXIX.

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning,

The dark-grey charger fled :
He burst through ranks of fighting men j

Ho sprang o'er heaps of dead.

1(1

I', I

LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME,

His bridle far out-streaming,

His flanks all blood and foam,
He sought tiiG southern mountains.

The mountains of his home.
The pass was steep and rugged

The wolves they howled and whined;
But he ran like a whirlwind up the pass,

And he left the wolves behind.
Through many a startled hamlet

Thundered his flying foet ;
He rushed through the gate of Tusculum,

He rushed up the long white street j
He rushed by tower and temple,
And paused not from his race
' Till he stood before his master's door

In the stately market-place.
And straightway round him gathered

A pale and trembling crowd
And when obey knew him, cries of rage

Brake furth, and wailing loud:
And women rent their tresses
For their great prince's fall ;
And old men girt on their old swords.
And went to man the wall.

1 1

XXX.

But, like a graven image.
Black Auster kept his place,

And ever wistfully he looked
luto his master's face.

The raven-mane that dailv.
With pats and fond caresses,

BATTLE or THE LAKE REQILLUS,

The young Herrainia washed and combed,

And twined in even tresscti
And decked with coloured ribands

From her own gay attire,
Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse

In carnage and in miro.
Forth with a shout sprang Titus,
And seized black Auster's rein.
Then Aulus sware a fearful oath,

And ran at him amain.
' The furies of tiiy brother

With me and mine abide,
If one of your accursed house

Upon black Auster ride 1'
As on an Alpine watch-tower

From heaven comes down the flame,
Full on the neck of Titus

The blade of Aulus came :
And out the red blood spouted,

In a wide arch and tall,
As spouts a fountain in the court

Of some rich Capuan's hall.
The knees of all the Latines

Were loosened with dismay
When dead, on dead Herminius,
The bravest Tarquin lay.

XXXT.

And Aulus the Dictator
Stroked Auster's raven mane.

With heed he looked unto the girths
With heed unto ihe rein.
F

f.iVS oy ANVtKNT IIOMN,

• Now Ifonr wvy ^vdl, hiaok Aiih(«m',

lulu yon (|ii(>K m-i'iiy ;
Ami tliMit Mild I will li

For 11

ii,vi> n\V(>ii(;fn

0' g«""l lonl tliirt (liiy,

XXXII.
Ho «|iiiko ho ; itMil wnM l)iu'klliijjf

TiKhtoi* liliiok AiiHUn-'Ml.aiul,
When lu> wan iiwiuc of a piliict-l)' jiulp

Tliivl nulo i\l his rljiht hiuid.
Ho liko ||H7 woiv, uo UlOI'lllI

Might ono tVoni dihcr know:
\VhiU>i\H«U(>\v I heir ariiiour wuh ;

Thoir iti.HMifi wi'iv whUo uti .saow.
!rfev'.'f ou omihl.v fiuvil

Did such viiro iiruuuir ^>|,.m,i ;
And novor did Huoh Kulliuii sU>i'd.<

Drink of luv oarl"»ly f^tivi-Mi.

X X \ III ,
And all who saw Ihoui livinldod,

\x\k\ jialo givw ovory rhook ;
And Aulus tho Dictator

Scarce K'^lhcrcd v^ioo to spoak.
*Say by whatnanio luou call you?

What city is your homo?
And whcivfiMv ride yc in such guiso
liiJoixi the ranks of Konio?*

XXXIV.

* By many names men will us ;

In many lands we dwell :
Well Sjimothnicia knows us ;

Cyreue knows i:s well.

Iv^O-

BATThU Oir THE LAKE RFMILLUS.

Otjr Jioii«o In %y\.y{ Tfironttim

U liunj< ('(Kill iiiorti with flowcra:
Ifigli o'er the imwtrt of HymcuMo

Our niarblo portal tovv,,^'^;
iJiit \))j the j)rou(l Kiirotus

1m our dear nativre home;
And for the rijtjht wo como to fight

JJeforo the raiikH of lloino.'

XXXV,

Ho answered ihoBo utratigo horsemen

And each ooiiehed low hia spear •
And forthwith all the ranks of Homo

Were bold, and of good cheer :
And on the thirty armies

''ame wonder and affright,
And Ardejv wavered on the left,

And Cora on the right.
Mlomo to the charge I ' cried Aulus ;

"^The foo begins to yield I
Charge for the liearth of Vesta I
Charge for the Golden Shield I
Jjot no man stop to plunder,

13ut shiy, and slay, a id slay ;
The gods who live for ever
Are on our side to-day.'

XXXVT.

The- .:.:■ lierce trnmpct-flourish

' .ofi arth to heaven arose.
The kites know well I he long stern swell

That bids the Romans close.

LAirS OF ANCIENT ROME.

Then the good sword of Aulus

Was lifted up to slav :
Then, like a crag down Apennine,

Rushed Auster through the fray.
But under those strange horsemen

Still thicker lay the slain ;
And after those strange horses

Black Auster Joiled in vain.
Behind them Rome's long battle

Came rolling ou the foe,
Ensigns danciug wild above,

Blades all in line below.
!Su comes the Po in ilood-time

Upon the Celtic plain :
So comes tJ-e squall, blacker than night,

Upon the Adrian main.
Now, by our Sire Quirinus,

It was a goodly sight
To see the thirty standards

Swept down the tide of flight.
So flies the spray of Adria

When the black squall doi,h blow.
So corn-sheaves in the flood- time

Spin down the whirling Po.
False Sextus to the mountains'

Turned tirst his horse's head j
And fast fled Ferentinum,

And fast Lanuvium fled.
The horsemen of Nomentum

Spurred hard out of the frayj
The footmen of Velitrse

Threw shield and spear away.

It !

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.

And underfoot was trampled,

Amidst the mud and gore,
The banner of proud Tusculum,

That never stooped before :
And down went Flavins Paqstus,

Who led his stately ranks
From where the apple blossoms wavo

On Anio's echoing banks,
And Tullus of Arplnum,

Chief of the Volscian aids,
And Melius with the long fair curls,

The love of Anxnr's maids,
And the white head of Vulso,

The great Arician seer,
And Nepos of Laurentum,

The hunter of the deer ;
And in the back false Sextus

Felt the good Roman steel,
And wriggling in the dust he died,

Like a worm beneath the wheel :
And fliers and piu-suars

Were mingled in a masii ;
And far awaj the batlie
Went roaring through the pass.

XXXVII.

Sempronius Atratinus
Sate in the Eastern Gate,

Beside him were three Fathers,
Each in his chair of state ;

Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons
That day were in the field,

CATS OF ANCIENT ROME.

And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve

Who kept the Golden Shield :
And Sergius, the High Pontiff,

For wisdom far renowned ;
In all Etruria's colleges

Was no such Pontiff found.
And all around the portal,

And high above the wall,
Stood a great throng of people,

But sad and silent all ;
Young lads, and stooping elders
Thai might not bear the mail,
Matrons with lips that quivered,

And maids with faces pale.
Since the first gleam of dajlight,

Sempronius had r ceased
To listen for the rushu.^

Of horse-hoofs from the east.
The mist of eve was rising,

The sun was hastening down.
When he was aware of a princely pair

Fast pricking towards the town.
So like they were, man never

Saw twins so like before ;
Red with gore their armour was.
Their steeds were red with gore.

XXXVIII.
' Hail to the great Asylum I

Hail to the hill-tops seven I
Hail to the fire thai burns for aye

And the shield that fell from heaven!

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REUILLUS, $0

This daj, by Lake Regillug,

Under the Porcian height.
All in the lands of Tusculum

Was fought a glorious fight.
To-morrow your Dictator

Shall bring in triumph home
The spoils of thirty cities

To deck the shrines of Rome I

XXXIX.

Then burst from that great concourse

A shout that shook the towers,
And some ran north, and some ran south,

Crying, 'The day is ours I'
But on rode these strange horsemen,

With slow and lordly pace ;
And none who saw their bearing

Durst ask their name or race.
On rode they to the Forum,

While laurel-boughs and flowers,
From house-tops and from windows

Fell on their crests in showers.
When they drew nigh to Vesta,

They vaulted down amain,
And washed their horses in the well

That springs by Vesta's fane.
And straight again they mounted,

And rode to Vesta's door;
Then, like a blast, away they passed,
And no man saw them more.

• LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

XL.

And all the people trembled,

And pale grew every cheek |
And Sergius the High Pontiff
Alone found voice to speak :
*The gods who live for ever

Have fought for Rome to-day I
These be the Great Twin Brethrea

To whom the Dorians pray.
Back comes the Chief in triumph,

Who, in the hour of fight,
Hath seen tho Great Twin Brethren

(Pn harness on his right.
Safe comes the ship to haven,

Through billows and through gales,
If once the Great Twin Brethren

Sit shining on the sails.
Wherefore they washed their horses

In Vesta's holy well.
Wherefore they rode to Vesta's door,

I know, but may not tell.
Here, hard by Vesta's Temple,

Build we a stately dome
Unto the Great Twin Brethren

Who fought so well for Rome.
And when the months returning

Bring back this day of fight,
The proud Ides of QuiLtilis,

Marked evermore with white.
Unto the Great Twin Brethren
Let all the people throng,

BATTLE OF THE LAKE RE GILL US.

With cliaplets and with offerings,

With music and with song ;
And let the doors and Avindows

Bo hung with garlands all,
And let the Knights be s'lmmoncd

To Mars without the wall :
''^hcnce let them ride in purple

With joyous trumpet-sound,
Each mounted on his war-liorse.

And each with olive crowned ;
And pass in solemn order

Before til icred dome,
Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren

Who fought, so well for Rome !'

lOi

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fjy

VIRGI^-IA.

A COLLECTION consisting exclusively of war-songs would
give an imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the
spirit of the old Latin ballads. The Patricians, during
more than a century after the expulsion of the King-s,
held all the high military commands. A Plebeian, ev^en
though, like Lucius Siccius, he were distinguished by his
valour and knowledge of war, could serve only in subor-
dinate posts. A minstrel, therefore, who wished to cele-
brate the early triumphs of his country, could hardly
take any but Patricians for his heroes. The warriors
who are mentioned in the two preceding lays, Horatius,
Lartius, Herminius, Aulus Posthumius, ^butius Elva
Sempronius Atratinus, Valerius Poplicola, were all mem-
bers of the dominant order; and a poet who was singing
their praises, whatever his own political opinions might
be, would naturally abstain from insulting the class to
which they belonged, and from reiRecting on the system
which had placed such men at the head of the legions of
the Commonwealth.

VIRGINIA.

But there was a class of compositions in whicii the great
families were by no means so courteously treated. No
parts of early Roman history are richer with poetical
colouring than those which relate to the long contest
between the privileged houses and the commonalty. The
population of Rome was, from a very early period, divided
into hereditary castes, which, indeed, readily united to
repel foreign enemies, but which regarded each other,
during many years, with bitter animosity. Between
those castes there was a barrier hardly less sttong than
that which, at Venice, parted the members of the Great
Council from their countrymen. In some respects, indeed,
the line which separated an Icilius or a Duilius from a
Posthumius or a Fabius was even more deeply marked
than that which separated the rower of a gondola from a
Contarini or a Morosini. At Venice the distinction was
merely civil. At Rome it was both civil and religious.
Among the grievances under which the Plebeians suffered,
three were felt as peculiarly severe. They were excluded
from the highest magistracies; they were excluded from
all share in the public lands ; and they were ground down
to the dust by partial and barbarous legislation touching
pecuniary contracts. The ruling class in Rome was a
monied class; and it made and administered the laws
with a view solely to its own interest. Thus the relation
between lender and borrower was mixed up with the rela-
tion between sovereign and subject. The great men held
a large portion of the community in dependence by means
of advances at enormous usury. The iaw of debt, framed
by creditors, and for the protection of creditors, was the
most horrible that has ever been known among men. The
liberty, and even the life, of the insolvent were at the

ZArs OF ANCIENT ROMS.

mercy of the Patrician money-lenders. Children often

.::::: TrcLr"""-"-^ -^ '-^ -fort„nerof £

parents The debtor wa.s imprisoned, not in a public eaol
, under the care of impartial public functionaries but fn a
pr.vate workhouse belonging to the credit 'pnVhLl
«to„es were told respecting these dungeons. It wrsMd
that torture and brutal violation were common ZT.Tt
stocks, heavy ^^^^^^ measures oTfl,' :t 2

to punish wretehe. guilty of nothing but poverly ^d
that brave soldier., whose breasts Le covIred'wTtJ
honourable scars, were often marked still more deeply on
the back by the scourges of high-born usurers '^

-i-ne i^lebeians were, however nnf TrV.«ii '.^
stitutional riches From ! i ^ '''*^^"* ^°'^-

admitf^H fo l ^^'^^ P""«^ thej had been

interval between the year 1792 and the year 1829 The

cet Cod S" *^ r^ "'""""^"^ ''PP A offi-
cers, named Tribunes, who had no active share in the govern-
ment of the Commonwealth, but who, by degrees, a^qS
a power formidable even to the ablest and mos reso ut«
Consuls and Dictators. The person of the Tr bun w^

TT:i '"'• *'"'"=''' '"^ <">»'<» <!--% eflfeot Htt e h^
could obstruct everything. '

During more than a century after the institution of the

r!mo:rX*" '""""""^ ^'™'"^"«^ -°f»»7 for t
Tnrr^ / . ^™™™'' """^'^' ^•''"h they laboured:
and, m spite of many checks and reverses, succeeded in

VIRQINIA.

wringing concession after concession from the stubborn
aristocracy. At length in the year of the city 378, both
parties mustered their whole strength for their lust and
most desperate conflict. The popular and active Tribune,
Caius Lioinius, proposed the three memorable laws which
are called by his name, and which were intended to redress
the three great evils of which the Plebeians complained.
He was supported, with eminent ability and firmness, by
his colleague, Lucius Sextius. The struggle appears to
have been the fiercest that ever in any community termi-
nated without an. appeal to arms. If such a contest had
raged in any Greek city, the streets would have run with
blood. But, even in the paroxysms of faction, the Roman
retained his gravity, his respect for law, and his tenderness
for tr.c lives of his fellow-citizens. Year after year Lici-
nius and Sextius were re-elected Tribunes. Year after
year, if the narrative which has come down to us is to be
trusted, they continued to exert, to the full extent, their
power of stopping the whole machine of government. No
curule magistrates could be chosen; no military muster
could be held. We know too little of the state of Rome
In those days to be able to conjecture how, during that long
anarchy, the peace was kept, and ordinary justice adminis-
tered between mau and man. The animosity of both
parties rose to the greatest height. The excitement, wo
may well suppose, would have been peculiarly intense at
the annual election of Tribunes. On such occasions there
can be little doubt that the great families did all that could
be done, by threats and caresses, to break the union ol' the
Plebeians. That union, however, proved indissoluble.
At length the good cause triumphed. The Licinian laws
were carried. Lucius Sextius was the first Plebeian Con-
sul, Caius Licinius the third.

t iMwEUjag aggss;

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

The results of this great change were singularly hapnv
victory, followed the reconciliation of the orders M^n w^!

J^Tx ^ -.M '^' ^"P""' ""^-l '" ««« her the mistress
ot Italy. Wh, e the disabilities of the Plebeians contk^d

vIIIT:;'"/'' '^ '"""^"' t"gro„„dagai„stthe

removed, she rapidly became more thaa a match for
Carthage and Macedon.

we!^"!!.?' ^'? ^''''''''"' ^"'"^^' *« P'^be'"-' poets
were doubtless, not silent. Even ia modern times son..s

have been by no means withont influence on public affair^-

and we may therefore infer that, in a society where pS

was unknown, and where books were rarl, a pathetic „"r

humorous party-ballad must have produced effects s„ h a«

we can but faintly conceive. It is certain that satirical poemi

were common at Home from a very early period. The

rustics, who lived at a distance from the seat of govern!

n T?T ^"^ '""'' ""'""'^'''^^ '» «»=''«^ Fescennine
veise. Ihe lampoons of the city were doubtless of a higher

order; and their sting was early felt by the nobility. For

m the Twelve Tables, long before the time of the Liciniaa

laws, a severe punishment was denounced against the

citizen who should compose or recite verses reflecting on

another.* Satire is, indeed, the only sort of composition

La*tin'rV'°'r^ '"''" ''™°' '"' ^""^ "«" *'=« h-d been early
^ul r 7 °'' '""*' '"'* ^"^ '°^' before Ws time. <Quam^
Zclt^ZT f ■"","' '"'""" ^"'"'' '■ -"* J"" '"■» »°1"™

VIRGINIA.

in which the Latin poets, whose works have come down to
us, were not mere imitators of foreign models ; and it is
therefore the only sort of composition in which they have
never been rivalled. It was not, like their tragedy, their
comedy, their epic and lyric poetry, a hothouse plant
which, in return for assiduous and skilful culture, gave
only scanty and sickly fruits. It was hardy and full of
sap ; and in all the various juices which it yielded might
be distinguished the flavour of the Ausonian soil. * Satire,'
says Quinctilian, with just pride, ' is all our own.' Satire
sprang, in truth, naturally from the constitution of the
Roman government and from the spirit of the Homan
people ; and, though at length subjected to metrical rules
derived from Greece, retained to the last an essentially
Roman character. Lucilius was the earliest satirist whose
works were held in esteem under the Caesars. But many
years before Lucilius was born Naevius had been flung into
a dungeon, and guarded there with circumstances of
unusual rigour, on account of the bitter lines in which he
had attacked the great Csecilian family.* The genius and
spirit of the Roman satirist survived the liberty of their
country, and were not extinguished b/ the cruel despotism
of the Julian and Flavian Emperors. The great poet who
told the story of Domitian's turbot, was the legitimate
successor of those forgotten minstrels whose songs ani-
mated the factions of the infant Republic

These minstrels, as Niebuhr has remarked, appear to
have generally taken the popular side. We can hardly be
mistaken in supposing that, at the great crisis of the civil
conflict, they employed themselves in versifying all the
most powerful and virulent speeches of the Tribunes, and

* Plautus, Miles Gloriosus. Aulus Gellius, iii. 3.

wM.vtmmt*!**"*

LATS OP ANCIENT ROME.

in heaping abuse on the leader, of the aristoen,ey. Every
pergonal defect, every domestic scandal eyerv tr,dil^
dishonourable to a noble house, would b Lilt 'uT
brought into notice, and exaggerated Th. n? ! '
head 0, eh« aristocratica. part;'M:::l ^1^^
might perha^ be, in some measure, protected by Wen

btate. But Appms Claudius Crassus enjoyed no s„.h
unmun.ty He was descended from a long 1 n of arcestrs
d.stmgu.shed by their haughty dcme^uTour, and by « o
ruflex.M, „i,h which they had withstood ali the dema
of the Plebeian order. While the political conduct and the
deportment of the Claudian nobles drew upon them h
fiercest public hatred, they were accused of wanting, if any
credit .s due to the early history of Bome, a c ass of
qualities which, in the military Commonweal, isTuffi.
cien to cover a multitude of offences. The chiefe of the
family appear to have been eloquent, versed in civil busi-
ness, and lear„6d after the fashion of their age ; but in war
they were not distinguished by skill or valour. Some of
them, as if conscious where their weakness lay, had, when
filling the highest magistracies, taken internaradminbtr!!
tion as their department of public business, and lefl the
military command to their coUeagues.* One of them had
been entrusted with an army, and had failed ignomi-

t"rhr^;^ /"M *'"^'" ""'^ ^''^ >— «<• with a
t lumph. None of them had achieved any n.artial exploit,
su h as those by which Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus
litus Quinctius CapitoHnus, Aldus Cornelius Cossus
and, above all, the great CuniUus, had extorted the

• In the years of the city 260, 304, and 330.
t in the year of the city 282.

reluctant esteem of the multitude. During the Lici-
nian conflict, Appius Claudius Crassus signalized himself
by the ability and severity with which he haran-ued
against the two great agitators. He would naturllly
therefore, be the favourite mark of the Plebeian satirists •
nor would they have been at a loss to find a point on whicli
he was open to attack.

His grandfather, called, like himself, Appius Claudius
had left a name as much detested as that of Sextus Tar'
quinius. This elder Appius had been Consul more than
seventy years before the introduction of the Licinian laws
By availing himself of a singular crisis in public feeling ho
had obtained the consent of the Commons to the abolition
of the Tribuneship, and had been the chief of that Council
of Ten to which the whole direction of the State had been
committed. In a few months his administration had become
universally odious. It had been swept away by an irresist-
ible outbreak of popular fury; and its memory was still
held m abhorrence by the whole city. The immediate
cause of the downfall of this execrable government was said
to have been an attempt made by Appius Claudius upon
the chastity of a beautiful young giri of humble birth
The story ran that the Decemvir, unable to succeed by
bribes and solicitations, resorted to an outrageous act of
tyranny. A vile dependent of the Claudian house laid
claim to the damsel as his slave. The cause was brou-ht
before the tribunal of Appius. The wicked magistrate^in
defiance of the clearest proofs, gave judgment for the claim-
ant. But the giri's father, a brave soldier, saved her from
servitude and dishonour by stabbing-her to the heart in the
sight of the whole Forum. That blow was the signal for
a general explosion. Camp and city rose at once ; the Ten

100

LAra OF AmiEIfT ROME.

2" pxllod down; tho TribanoHhip w«« ro-ctablirficd ;
«ad App,uH o™,.pod tho hu„d« of the oxooutioucr only ),y

«daptcd to tl.o purposes b,.th of the p„„t ,.„d of tlio doni
Roguo woud bo o„^«rly »ou«d upon by mi„„trels burning
with Imtrod „g„.„„t tho Putrioiau order, ..,.,i„st tho Clua
dmn houso and o.p«oiully „g„inst the grandson and
uamos,.ko of tho infamous Decomvir.

In order that tho reader may judge fairly of these
fragments of the lay of Virginia, he n.nst imagine himself
« Pkbonm who ha, j„.t voted for the re-eloeti„n of
Soxtms and l.icuuus. AH the power of the Patrieians
has been exerted to throw out the two great champions
of tho Commons Evory Posthumius, ^milius, and
Cornohus has used his influenee to the utn.ost. Debtors
have been let out of tho workhouses on condition of
votmg against tho men of tho people: clients have boon
posted to luss and interrupt the favourite candidates-
Appius Claudius Crassus has spoken with more than his
usual eloquence and asperity : all has been in vain : Lici
nms and Soxtius have a fifth time carried all the tribes-
work IS suspended .- tho booths are closed : the Plebeians

through the Forum. Just at this moment it is announced
that a popular poet, a zealous adherent of the Tribunes
has m,.do a new song which will cut the Claudian nobles '
to the heart. The crowd gathers round him, and calls
-m h.m ,„ recite it. He takes his stand on the sp

v^r'al" » " " Tf """' '*'''•«'"'''' -»- 'han seventy

VIRGINIA.

IN THa YJBAIl OF THM CITY OOOLXXXII. ^^

Yk good men of the Commons, with loving hearts and in..
Who stand b, the hold Tribunes that stinwl 1^ ^
Come, make a circle round me, and mark my tale witfcaT
A Ule of what Rome once hath borne of wh« . i, '

T.ia IS „„ 0.e,a„ rab.e, of roulZM^' :r '" ■""' ^'"•
Of maid, with snaky ..ss«, „. sailors .„ J ;;„
Here, ,„ thi, „r.v P„™m, under .he noonday s„„

Old 'f ' "!•« ' ""■ '"'"""' *"' "'""^^ "-0 -- "one.
d men , ,11 creep among us who saw that fearful day,

J»-« seventy years and seven ago, when .he wiclced T^' ha„ sway

And of all .he wcked Ten Appius Claudius was U,e wore.
Ho aUlked along .he Forun, like King Tar,uin in h sTrd,-

The .:r" "f "" """' ''^ "■"""-« ^ " ^'^' : ■

H.'^^^ rnZtT '" 7'' ""' "="- "-^ '^'^ -'^"™ -"" f-
sowermgb,ow,h.seurhngm„u,h,which always seemedtosneer-

102

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

That brow of hate, that mouth of scorn, marks all the kindred still •
For never was there Claudius yet but wished the Commons ill • '
Nor lacks he fit attendance ; for close behind his heels
With outstretched chin and crouching race, the client Marcus steals
H.S loins g,rt up to run with speed, be the errand what it may
And the smile flickering on his cheek, for aught his lord may say
Such varlets pimp and jest fo. hire among the lying Greek. :
Such varlets still are paid to hoot when brave Licinius speaks.
Where er ye shed the honey, the buzzing flies will crowd •
Where'er ye fling the carrion, the raven's croak is loud • '
Where'er down Tiber garbage floats, the greedy pike ye see :
And wheresoe'er such lord is found, such client still will be.

Just then as through one cloudless chink in a black stormy sky.
Shh,es out the dewy morning-star, a fair young girl came by '
With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel on her arm
Home she went bounding from the school, nor dreamed of shame or
harm ;

And past th«se dreaded axes she innocently ran.
With bright, frank brow that had not learned lo blush at gaze of
man;

And up the Sacred Street she turned, and, as she danced along,
She warbled gaily to herself lines of the good old song
How for a sport the princes came spurring from the camp
And found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under the midnight lamp.
The maiden sang as sings the lark, when up he darts his flight
From his nest in the green April corn, to meet the morning light-
And Appius heard her sweet young voice, and saw her sweet young
rftC6|

And loTed her with the accursed love of his accursed race

And all .long the Forum, and up the Sacred Street,

His vulture eye pursued Ihe trip of those small glancing feet

)

yiROINIA.

103

Orer th» Alb«n moa„t.l„, ,ho light of morning broke •

Th« cily-gates were opened ; the Porum all «li„
W,th buyer. .„d With .cUcr, wa, h„n.n,ing like \ hire :

And b.,the,y young Virginia ean,e filing f„„ t,, ,/„„^'
Ah . woe for young Virginia, the sweetest n,aid in Ro„,e I
Wuh her .„all Ublet, in her hand, and her .atchel „n her am,
Forth she went bounding to the school n„. a T '

harm. dreamed of shame or

She erossed the Porum shining w,.„ stalls in alley, g„.
And ,„st had cached the very spot whereon I stand tul dav
When up the varlet Mareus came ; not such as when til

And str^le across Virginia's path, and caught her by .he wri.t
Hard strove '.he frighted m»iH»„ . j '■''" oy the wrist.

104

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME,

She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away and sold,
The year of the sore sickness, ere she was twelve hours old.
'Twas in the sad September, the month of wail and fright,
Two augurs were borne forth that morn ; ihe Consul died ere

night.
I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire ;
Let him who works v.he client wrong beware the patron's ire I '

So spake the varlet Marcus; and droad and silence came
On all the people at the sound of the great Claudian name.
For then there was no Tribune to speak the word of might,
Which makes the rich man tremble, and guards the poor man's
right.

There was no brav* Liclaius, no honest Sextius then ;
But all the city, in great fear, obeyed the wicked Ten.
Vet ere the varlet Marcus again might seize the maid,
Who clung tight to Muraena's skirt, and sobbed and shrieked for

aid.
Forth through the throng of gazers the young Icilius pressed,
And staioped his foot, and rent his gown, and smote upon his breast.
And sprang upon that colnmn, by many a minstrel sunjr.
Whereon three mouldering helmets, three resting swords, are

hung.

And beckoned to the people, and in bold voice and clear
Poured thick and fast the burning words which tyranta quale to
hear.

'Now, by your children's cradles, now ^y your fathers' graves,
Be men to-day, Quirites, or be for ever slaves 1
For this did Servius give us laws? For this -M Lucrece bleed?
For this was the great vengeance wrought on Tarquiu's evil seed ?
For this did those false sons make red the axes of their sire ?
For this did Scaevola's right hand hiss in the Tuscan fire ?

VIRGINIA.

105

are

Shall the vile fox-earth awe the race that stormed the lion's den?
Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to the wicked Ten ?
Oh for that ancient spirit which curbed the Senate's will I
Oh for the tents which in old time whitened the Sacred Hill I
In thoae brave days our fathers stood firmly side by side ;
They faced the Marcian fury ; they tamed the Fabian pride :
They drove the fiercest Quinctius an outcast forth from Rome;
They sent the haughtiest Claudius with shivered fasces home.
But what their care bequeathed us our madness flung away :
All the ripe fruit of threescore years was blighted in a day.
Exult, ye proud Patricians 1 The hard-fought fight Is o'er.
We strove for honours— 'twas in vain : for freedom — 'tis nomorJ.
No orier to the polling summons the eager throng ;
No tribune b'^eathes the word of might that guards the weak from

wrong.
Our very hearts, that were so high, sink down beneath your will.
Riches, and lands, and power, and state — ^ye have them : — keep

them still.
Still keep the holy filJets ; still keep the purple gown.
The axe3, and the curule chair, the car, and laurel crown :
Still press us for your cohorts, and, when the fight is done.
Still fill your garners from the soil which our good swords have

won.
Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft may not cure,
Let your foul usance eat away the substance of the poor.
Still let your haggard debtors bear all their fathers bore ;
Still let your dens of torment be noisome as of yore ;
No fire when Tiber freezes ; no air in dog-star heat ;
And store of rods for free-born backs, and holes for free-born feet.
Heap heavier still the fetters ; bar closer still the grate ;
Patient as sheep we yield us up unto your cruel hate.
But, by the Shades beneath us, and by the gods above.
Add not unto your cruel hate your yet more cruel love !

lOQ

LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME.

flavo ye not grace (nl ladies, whoso spotless lineage springs
From Consuls, and Fligh Pontiffs, and ancient Alban kings ?
Ladies, who deign not on our paths to set their tender feet,
Who from their cars look down with scorn upon the wondering
street,

Who in Corinthian mirrors their own proud smiles behold,
And breathe of Capuan odours, and shine with Spanish gold?
Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to life—
The sweet, swoet love of datighter, of sister, and of wife.
The gentle speech, the balm for all that his vexed soul endures,
The kiss, in which he half forgets even such a yoke as yours.
Still lot the maiden's beauty swell the father's breast with pride ;
sun let the bridegroom's arms infold an unpolluted bride.
Spare us the inoxiuiible wrong, the unutterable shame,
That turns the coward's heart to steel, the sluggard's blood to
flame,

Lest, when om- latest hope is fled, ye taste of our despair,
And learn by proof, in some wild hour, how much the wretched
dare.'

• • • • •

Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside.
To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn and hide.
Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a crimson flood.
Leaps down to the great sewer the gurgling stream of blood.
Hard by, a fleshcr on a block had laid his wliittle down ;
Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown.
And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began to swell.
And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, 'Farewell, sweet child!
Farewell!

Oh ! how I loved my darling ! Though stern I sometimes be,
To thee, thou know'st I was not so. Who could be so to thee ?

VJRQINIA.

107

And how my darling loved me 1 How glad she was to hear
My footetep on the threshold when I came back last year I
And how she danced with pleasure to see my civic crown
And took my sword, and hung it up, and brought me forth my
gown I

Now, all those things are over— yes, all thy pretty ways,
Thy needlework, thy prattle, thy snatches of old lays;
And none will grieve when I go forth, or smile when I return,
Or watch beside the old man's bed, or weep upon his urn.
The house that was the happiest within the Roman walls,
The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's marble halls,
"Soyr, for the brightness of thy smile, must have eternal gloom,
And for the music of thy voice, the silence of the tomb.
The time is come. See how he points his eager hand this way I
See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon the prey 1
With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, betrayed, bereft,
Tliy father hath in his despair one fearflil refuge left.
He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save
Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of the slave-
Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow-
Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never
know.

Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more
kiss ;

And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this.'
With that he lifted high the stool, and smote her in the side.
And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died.

Then, for a little moment, all people held their breath ;
And through the crowded Forum was stillness as of death;
And in another moment brake forth from one and all
A cry as if the Volscians were coming o'er the wall.

108

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME,

Some with averted faces shrieking fled home amain ;
Some ran to call a leech ; and some ran to lift the slain :
Some felt her lips and little wrist, if life might there be found ;
And some tore up their garments fast, and strove to stanch the
wound.

In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched ; for never truer blow
That good right arm had dealt in fight against a Volscian foe.

Who 1 Appius Claudius saw that deed, he shuddered and sank
down,

And hid his face some little space with the corner of his gown,
TilL with white lijjs and bloodshot eyes, Virginins tottered nigh.
And stood before the judgment-seat, and held tlie knife on high.
' Oh ; dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain,
By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain;
And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine.
Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line I ''
So spake the slayer of his child, and turned, and went his way ;
But first he cast one haggard glance to where the body lay,
And writhed, and groaned a fearful groau, and then, with' stead-
fast feet,

Strode right across the market-place unto the Sacred Street.

Then up sprang Appius Claudius : ' Stop him ; alive or dead I
Ton thousand pounds of copper to the man who brings his head.'
He looked upon his clients ; but none would work his will.
He looked upon his lictors ; but they trembled, and stood still.
And, as Virginius through the press his way in silence cleft.
Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and left.
And he hath passed in safety unto his woeful home.
And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what deeds are done in
Rome.

VIRGINIA.

109

By this the flood of people was swollen from every side,
And streets and porches round were filled with that o'erflowing
tide;

And close around the body gathered a little train

Of them that were the nearest and dearest to the slain.

They brought a bier, and hung it with many a cypress crown,

And gently they uplifted her, and gently laid her down.

The faceof Appius Claudius wore the Claudian scowl and sneer.

And in the Claudian note he cried, 'What doth this rabble here ?

Have they no crafts to mind at home, that hitherward they stray ?

Hoi lictors, clear the market-place, and fetch the corpse away! '

The voice of grief and fury till then had not been loud ;

But a deep sullen murmur wandered among the crowd,

Like the moaning noise that goes before the whirlwind on the deep,

Or the growl of a fierce watch-dog but half-aroused from sleep.

But when the lictors at that word, tall yeomen all and strong,

Each with his axe and sheaf of twigo, went down into the throng.

Those old men say, who saw that day of sorrow and of sin,

That in the Roman Forum was never such a din.

The wailing, hooting, cursing, the howls of grief and hate.

Were heard beyond the Pincian Hill, beyond the Latin Gate.

But close around the body, where stood the little train

Of them that were the nearest and dearest to the slain,

No cries were there, but teeth set fast, low whispers and black
frowiis.

And breaking up of benches, and girding up of gowns.

'Twas well the lictors might not pierce to where the maiden lay.

Else surely had they been all twelve torn limb from limb tliatday.

Right glad they were to struggle back, blood streaming from their
heads.

With axes all in splinters, and raiment ali in shreds.

Then Appius Claudius gnawed his lip, and the blood left his cheek ;

And thrice he beckoned with his hand, and thrice he strove to speak ;

110

LAVS OF ANCIENT ROME.

And thrice the tossing Forum set up a frightful yell •
'See, see, thou dog! what thou hast done; and hide thy shame
m hell I

• Thou that wouldst »»ke our maidens slaves must fi™t make slaves
of men.

Tribunes ! Hurrah for Tribunes 1 Down with the wicked Ten I '
And straightway, thick as hailstones, came whizzing through
the air

Pebbles, and cricks, and potsherds, all round the curale chair :
And upon Appius Claudius great fear and trembling came:
For never was a Claudius yet brave against aught but shame.
Though the great houses love us not, we own, to do them right,
That the great houses, all save one, have borne them well in fight.
St.ll Cams of Ooripli, his triumphs and his wrongs.
His vengeance and his mercy, live in our camp-fire'songs
Beneath the yoke of Furius oft have Gaul and Tuscan bowed •
And Rome may bear the pride of him of whom herself is proud
But evermore a Claudius shrinks from a stricken field,
And changes colour like a maid at sight of sword and shield
The Claudian triumphs all were won within the city towers ;
The Claudian yoke was never pressed on any necks but ours.'
A Cossus, like a wild cat, springs ever at the face;
A Fabius rushes like a boar against the shouting chase •
But the vile Claudian litter, raging with currish spite '
Still yelps and snaps at those who run, still runs from those who '
smite.

So now 'twas seen of Appius. When stones began to fly
He shook, and crouched, and wrung his hands, and sm'ote upon
his thigh.

'Kind clients, honest lictors, stand by me in this fray I
Must I be torn in pieces ? Home, home, the nearest way 1 '
Whde yet he spake, and looked around with a bewildered stare
Four sturdy lictors put their necks beneath thP onmio «»,.;> . '

VIRGINIA.

Ill

shame

» slaves

il'
irough

ir:

fight.

who

And fourscore clients on the left, and fourscore on the right
Arrayed themselves with swords and staves, and loins girt up for
fight.. V

But, though without or staiOf or sword, so furious was the throng
That scarce the train with might and main could bring their lord
along.

Twelve times the crowd made at him; five times they seized his
gown ;

Small chance was hi, ,„ rise again, if once they got him down :
And sharper came the pelting ; and eyetmore the yell-
' Tnbunes I we will have Tribunes ! '-rose with a louder swell :
And the chair tossed as tosses a bark with tattered sail
When raves the Adriatic benea.h an eastern gale
When the Oalabrian sea-marks are lost in clouds of spume
And the Kreat Thunder-Cape has donned his veil of inky gloom
One stone hit Appius in the mouth, and one beneath the ear • '
And ere he reached Mount Palatine, he swooned with pain and fear.
H.S cursed head, that he was wont to hold so high wi.h pride.
Now, hke a drunken man's, hung down, and swayed from side to
side;

And when his stout retainers had brought him to hh door,
His face and neck were all one cake of filth and clotted gore
As Appius Claudius was that day, so may his grandson be 1
God send Rome one such other sight, and send me there to seel

ipon

\^mim

"WMf!**

THE PEOPHECY OF CAPTS.

It can hardly be necessary to remind any reader that
according to the popular tradition, Romulus, after he had
slain his grand-uncle Amulius, and restored his grand-
father Numitor, determined to quit Alba, the hereditary
domain of the Sylvian princes, and to found a new city.
The gods, it was added, vouchsafed the clearest signs of
the favour with which they regarded the enterprise, and of
the high destinies reserved for the young colony.

This event was likely to be a favourite theme of the
old Latin minstrels. They would naturally attribute the
project of Romulus to some divine intimation of the
power and prosperity which it was decreed that his city
should attain. They would probably introduce seers
foretelling the victories of unborn Consuls and Dictators,
and the last great victory would generally occupy the
most conspicuous place in the prediction. There is
nothing strange in the supposition that the poet who was
employed to celebrate the first great triumph of the
Romans over the Greeks might throw his song of exulta-
tion into this form.

THE PROPHECY OF CAPrS. 113

The occasion was one likely to excite the strongest
feelings of national pride. A great outrage had been
followed by a great retribution. Seven years before this
time, Lucius Posthumius Megellus, who sprang from one
of the noblest houses of Rome, and had been thrice
Consul, was sent ambassador to Tarentum, with charge to
demand reparation for grievous injuries. The Tarentines
gave him audience in their theatre, where he addressed
them in such Greek as he could command, which, we may
well believe, was not exactly such as Cineas would have
spoken. An exquisite sense of the ridiculous belonged
to the Greek character ; and closely connected with this
faculty was a strong propensity to flippancy and imper-
tinence. When Posthumius placed an accent wrong, his
hearers burst into a laugh. When he remonstrated,''thcy
hooted him, and called him barbarian ; and at lenc^th
hissed him off the stage as if he had been a bad actw
As the grave Roman retired, a buffoon who, from his
constant drunkenness, was nicknamed the Pint-pot, came
up with gestures of the grossest indecency, and bespattered
the senatorial gown with filth. Posthumius turned round
to the multitude, and held up the gown, as if appealin- to
the universal law of nations. The sight only increased
the insolence of the Tarentines. They clapped their
hands, and set up a shout of laughter which shook the
theatre. ' Men of Tarentum,' said Posthumius, Mt will
take not a little blood to wash this gown.'*

Rome, in consequence of this insult, declared war against
the Tarentines. The Tarentines sought for allies beyond
the Ionian Sea. Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, came to their

^ * Dion. Hal. De Lpgationibus.

• i

114

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

help with a lar^e army; and, for the first time, the two
great nations of antiquity were fairly matched against
each other.

The fame of Greece in arms, as well as in arts, was then
at the height. Half a century earlier, the career of Alex-
ander had excited the admiration and terror of all nations
from the Ganges to the Pillars of Hercules. Royal houses,
founded by Macedonian Ciiptains, still reigned at Antioch
and Alexandria. That barbarian warriors, led by barbarian
chiefs, should win a pitched battle against Greek valour
guided by Greek science, seemed as incredible as it would
now seem that the Burmese or the Siamese should, in the
open plain, put to flight an equal number of the best Eng-
lish troops. The Tarentines were convinced that their
countrymen were irresistible in war ; and this conviction
had emboldened them to treat with the grossest indignity
one whom they regarded as the representacive of an infe-
rior race. Of the Greek generals then living, Pyrrhus
was indisputably the first. Among the troops who were
trained in the Greek discipline, his Epirotes ranked high.
His expedition to Italy was a turning-point in the history
of the world. He found there a people who, far inferior
to the Athenians and Corinthians in the fine arts, in the
speculative sciences, and in all the refinements of life, were
the best soldiers on the face of the earth. Their arms,
their gradations of rank, their order of battle, their method
of intrenchment, were all of Latian origin, and had all
been gradually brought near to perfection, not by the study
of foreign models, but by the genius and experience of
many generations of great native commanders. The first
words which broke from the king, when his practised eye
.-J — ^..^ A».uiixau vixvjttiupjjucnuj Wuiu luii \}i Uieati-

two

)

TBE PROPHECY OF CAPTS. . US

it?hr 't"""" ' '" "''' ''"'™ -'•'"■g barb,
roua m their military arrangements.' Ho wa» «f « ,

victorious ; for his own talents were supe L ^ 11 \
the eaptains who were opposed to him- „Td 2 R
were not prepared for th^ onset of Z iZ^^::
East, which were then for the first time seen in Italy
^oving mountains, with long snakes for hands.* But t^
victories of the Epirotes were fiercely disnuted ^ .
purcha^d, and altogether unprofitable ^AtZI^MS
Curins Dentatus, who had in his first ConsuIsMp won two
triumphs, was again placed at the head of the Tomln
Commonwealth, and sent to encounter the invaded A
great battle waa fought near Beneventum. P™^ JL
completely defeated. He repassed the sea; and the woZ
learned, with amazement, that a people had beln^^
covered who in fair fighting, were su'perior t„ he ^
troops that had been drilled on the system n/p •

and Antigonus. ^ "" "^ ^a^emo

ce^ foTtr""? '"^ " ^'^ "^'•' 'o '=^»" '" Ae- -0-
cess, for their glory was aW their own Tl,o„ i, j .

Earned from their enemy how to conTuer 'hi ' Z
With their own nat onal arms and in \.' •

battWay .hat they had ^^^ ^LTn/tt
long beheyed to be inyineible. The pilum and7h« T f
™„rd had yanquished the Macedonia^s^a; ThlS;
had broken the Macedonian phalanz. Eyen helltlr

^:: lT!r ^^'r?^ ""'■^ «'«' appearance"^
ii^fl':S;:iZ^' °"' '"'" ^•""'" "" - -lephant. Lucre-

116

LAYS OF AHOIENT ROME.

Lrhe Sit:

It is said by Floras and may easily be believed, that the
triumph far surpas.sed in magnificence any that Rome had
previously seen. The only F^oils which Papirius Cursor
and Fabius Maximus could exhibit were flocks and herds,
waggons of rude structure, and heaps of spears and helmets.
But now, for the first time, the riches of Asia and the arts
of Greece adorned a Roman pageant. Plate, fine staffs,
costly furniture, rare animals, exquisite pnntinjrs aud
sculptures, formed part of the procession. At the I anquet
would be assembled a crowd of warrior" md statesmen,
among whom Manius Curius Dentatus would take the
highest room. Caius Fubricius Luscinus, then, after two
Consulships and two triumphs, Censor of the Common-
wealth, would doubtless occupy a place of honour at the
board. In situations less conspicuous probably lay some
of those who were, a few years later, the terror of Carthage ;
Caius Duilius, the founder of the maritime greatness of his
country ; Marcus Atilius Regulus, who owed to defeat a
renown far higher than that which he had derived from his
victories ; and Caius Lutatius Catulus, who, while suffer-
ing from a grievous wound, fought the great battle of the
JEgates, and brought the first Punic war to a triumphant
close. It is impossible to recount the names of these
eminent citizens, without reflecting that they were all,
without exception. Plebeians, and would, but for the ever-
memorable struggle mamtivinec' by Caius Liciuius and
Lucius Sextius, have b^fi; ^>. 'un. ;d to hide in obscurity, or
to waste in civil broils, the capacity and energy which
prevailed against Pyrrhus and Hamiloar.

On such a day we may suppose that the patriotic enthu-
siasm of a Latin poet would vent itself in reiterated shouts
of lo tnumphCf such as were uttered by Horace on a far

THE PROPHECY OF CAPTS, II7

of«o»e foreign nations, and esp™ ial of tt ZT"-"
the lazy arte of peace, would be iniTtcd wTI d'^f •%"!

;: rti s;'^~ '- -" ^h: uii^wSt

The following lay belong, to the latest a«e of Latin
ballad-poetry. N»viua and LiviuB Androniol were 2
^b y among the ehildren whose mothers held thrrupt
2 he chanot of Curias go by. The minstrel who 1«

he.ametet"'„rf ^•'""'••'f '"'- "™<^ ^ -" thl S

2r:-e,u!ir:':trt '';::^^' r - --i

productions of remote nations, thr;:rdlXrC
m eompos.t.ons of the age of Camillus. But he troublca
himself httle about dates, and having heard travellerstk
^Uh admiration of the Colossus of Rhodes, aid of ^t
s^uctures and gardens with which the Macedonkn ki !^
of Syria had embellished their residence on the banjff
the Orontes, he has never thought of inquiring whether
these things existed in the age of Romulus.

THE PEOPHECT OF CAPYS.

X LAY SUNa AT THK BANQUBT m THE OAPITOI,, ON THE DAY WHEREON
MANIUS CURIUS 0BNTATU8, A SECOND TIME CONSUL, TRIUMPHED
OVER KING PYRRHUa AND THE TARBNTINES, IN THE YEAR OF
THE CITY CCCCLXXIX.

Now slain is King Amulius,
' Of the great Sylvian line,
Who reigned in Alba Longa,

On the throne of Aventine.
Slain is the Pontiff Gamers,

Who spake the words of doom :
* The children to the Tiber ;

The mother to the tomb.'

II.

In Alba's lake no fisher

His net to-day is flinging :
On the dark rind of Alba's oaks

To-day no axe is ringing t
The yoke hangs o'er the manger :

The scythe lies in the hay :
Through all the Alban villages

No work is done to-day.

THE PROPHECY OF CAPrs.

119

BiREON
IPHKD
IR OF

Hi.

And every Alban burgher

Hath donned his whitest gown ;
And every head in Alba

Weareth a poplar crown ;
And every Alban door-post

With boughs and flowers is gayj ^
For to-day the dead are living j

The lost are found to-day.

IV.

They were doomed by a bloody king :
They were doomed by a lying priest :

They were cast on the raging flood :
They were tracked by the raging beast

Raging beast and raging flood

Alike have spared the prey ;
And to-day the dead are living:
The lost are found to-day.

The troubled river knew them,

And smoothed his yellow foam,
And gently rocked the cradle

That bore the fate of Rome.
The ravening she-wolf knew them,

And licked them o'er and o'er
And gave them of her own fierce milk,

Rich with raw flesh and gore.
Twenty winters, twenty springs,

Since then have rolled away ;
And to-day the dead are livinir •

~o -

Thel

r-*

are found to-day.

120

ZAFS OF AZ'fClENT ROM£,

VI.

Blithe it vtm to see tlie twins,

Right goodlj youths and tall,
Marching from Alba ltong%

To their old grandsire's hall.
Along their path fresh garlands

Are hung from tree to tree :
Before them stride the pipers,

Piping a note of glee.

VII.
On the right goes Romulus,

With arms to the elbows red,
Arid in his hand a broadsword.

And on the blade a head—
A head in an iron helmet,

With horse-hair hangmg down,
A shaggy head, a swarthy head,

Fixed in a ghastly frown—
The head of King Amulius

Of the great Sylvian line.
Who reigned in Alba Longa,

On the throne of Aventine.

VIII.
On the left side goes Remus,

With wrists and fingers red.
And in his hand a boar-spear.

And on the point a head —
A wrinkled head and aged.

With silver heartland hair.
And holy fillets round it,

Such as the pontifis wear—

THE PROPHECY OF CAPTS.

The head of ancient Gamers,
Who spake the words of doom :

* The children to the Tiber j
The mother to the tomb.'

IX.

Two and two behind the twins

Their trusty comrades go,
Pour and forty valiant men.

With club, and axe, and bow.
On each side every hamlet

Pours forth its joyous crowd,
Shouting lads and baying dogs
And children laughing loud,
And old men weeping fondly

As Rhea's boy^ go by
And maids who shriek to see the heads.
Yet, shrieking, press more nigh.

So they marched along the lake j
They marched by fold and stall,

By corn-field and by vineyard.
Unto the old man's hall.

XI.

In the hall-gate sate Oapys,

Capys, the sightless seer ;
From head to foot he trembled

As Romulus drew near.
And up stood stiflf his thin white hair.

And his blind eyes flashed fire :
'Hail I foster child of the wonderous nurse

i^ail ! son of the wonderous sire I

121

122

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.
XII.

'But thou— what dost thou here

In the old man's peaceful hall?
What doth the eagle in the coop,

The bison in the stall?
Our corn fills many a garner •

Our vines clasp many a tree ;
Our flocks are white on many a hill •

But these are not for thee.

XIII.
' For thee no treasure ripens

In the Tartessian mine :
For thee no ship brings precious bales

Across the Libyan brine :
Thou Shalt not drink from amber;

Thou Shalt not rest on down •
Arabia shall not steep thy locks, *

Nor Sidon tinge thy gown.

XIV,

'Leave gold and myrrh and jewels,

Rich table and soft bed.
To them who of man's seed are born,

Whom woman's milk have fed.
Thou wast not made for lucre,

For pleasure, nor for rest;
Thou, that art sprung from the War-god's loins,

And hast tugged at the she-wolf s breast.

TSE PROPHECY OF CAPYS.

123

XV.

* From sunrise unto sunset

All earth shall hear thy fanio :
A glorious city thou shalt build

And name it by thy name :
And there, unquenched through ages,

Like Vesta's sacred fire,
Shall i:Te the spirit of thy nurse,

The spirit of thy sire.

XVI.

' The ox toils through the furrow

Obedient to the goad ;
The patient ass, up flinty paths,

Plods with his weary load :
With whine and bound the spaniel

His master's whistle hears ;
And the sheep yields her patiently

To the loud clashing shears.

XVII.

'But thy nurse will hear no master;

Thy nurse will bear no load ;
And woe to them that shear her.

And woe to them that goad I
When all the pack, loud baying.

Her bloody lair surrounds, '
She dies in silence, biting hard, .

Amidst the dying hounds.

124

LAY8 OF ANCIENT ROHB,

xvirr.

* Pomona lores the orchard ;

And Liber loves the vine ;
And Pales loves the straw-built shed

Warm with the breath of kine j
And Venus loves the whispers

Of plighted youth and maid,
In April's ivory moonlight

Beneath the chestnut shade.

XIX.

* But thy father loves the clashing

Of broadsword and of shield :
He loves to drink the steam that reeks

Prom the fresh battle-field :
He smiles a smile more dreadful
Than his own dreadful frown,
When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke
Go up from the conquered town.

XX.

* And such as is the War god,

The author of thy line,
And such as she who suckled thee,

Even such be thou and thine.
Leave to the soft Campanian

His baths and his perfumes ;
Leave to the sordid race of Tyre
Their dyeing-vats and looms :
Leave to the sons of Carthage

The rudder and the oar:
Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs
And scrolls of wordy lore.

THE PROPHECY OF CAPY8.

XXI.
* Thine, Roman, is the pilum :

Roman, the sword is thine,
The even trench, the bristling mound,

The legion's ordered line ;
And thine the wheels of triumph,

Whioh with their laurelled train
Move slowly up the shouting streets

To Jove's eternal fane.

XXII.
'Beneath thy yoke the Volscian

Shall vail his lofty brow :
Soft Capua's curled revellers

Before thy chairs shall bow :
The Lucumoes of Arnus

Shall quake thy rods to see ;
And the proud Samnite's heart of steel

Shall yield to only thee.

XXIII.
* The Gaul shall come against thee

Prom the land of snow and night :
Thou Shalt give his fair-haired armies

To the raven and tho kite.

XXIV.

*The Greek shall come against thee,

The conqueror of the East.
Beside him stalks to battle

The huge earth-shaking beast,
The beast on whom the castle

With all its guards doth stand,

Thfi hpaof iirlirv t<<>4U v~4— . »-•_ _ -

— T» .jfu- u»t;u wciWccii ius eyes

The serpent for a hand.

125

1^6

I^AFS OF ANOIENT ROME,

First march the bold Epirotes,

Wedged close with shield and spear;
And the ranks of false Tarentum
. Are glittering in the rear.
XXV.

'The ranks of false Tarentum
Like hunted sheep shall fly :
In rain the bold Epirotes

Shall round their standards die :
And Apennine's grej vultures

Shall have a noble feast
On the fat and the eyes
Of the huge earth-shaking beast.
XXVI.

'Hurrah I for the good weapons

That keep the War-god's land.
Hurrah I for Rome's stout pilum

In a stout Roman hand.
Hurrah I for Rome's short broadsword,

That through the thick array
Of levelled spears and serried shield?

Hews deep its gory way.

XXVII.

' Hurrah ! for the great triumph

That stretches many a mile.
Hurrah I for the wan captives

That pass in endless file.
Ho I bold Epirotes, whither

Hath the Red King t.Ven flight?
Ho I dogs of false Tarentum,
Is not the gown washed white ?

THE PROPHECY OF CAPT8.

XXVIII.

'Hurrah! for the great triumph

That stretches many a mile.
Hurrah I for the rich dye of Tyre,

And the fine web of Nile,
The helmets gay with plumage

Torn from the pheasant's wings,
The belts set thick with starry gems

That shone on Indian kings,
The urns of massy silver.

The goblets rough with gold,
The many-coloured tablets bright

With loves and wars of old.
The stone that breathes and struggles
The brass thai seems to speak j— -
Such cunning they who dwell on high
Have given unto the Greek.

127

XXIX.

* Hurrah 1 for Manius Curius,

The bravest son of Rome,
Thrice in utmost need sent forth,
Thrice drawn in triumph home.
Weave, weave, for Manius Curius

The third embroidered gown :
Make ready the third lofty car.

And twine the third green crown ;
And yoke the steeds of Rosea

With necks like a bended bow.
And deck the bull, Mevania's bull,
The bull as white as snow.

128

LAYS OF ANCIENT ROMS.

XXX.

'Blest and thrice blest the Roman
Who sees Rome's brightest day,
Who sees that long victorious pomp

Wind down the Sacred Way,
And through the bellowing Porum.
And round the Suppliant's Grove,
Up to the everlasting gatea
Of Oapitolian Jove.

XXXI.

* Then where, o'er two bright havens,

The towers of Corinth frown j
Where the gigantic King of Day

On his own Rhodes looks down ;
Where soft Orontes murmurs
Beneath the laurel shades ;
Where Nile reflects the endless length

Of dark-red colonnades ;
Where in the still deep water.

Sheltered from waves and blasts.
Bristles the dusky forest

Of Byrsa's thousand masts ;
Where fur-clad hunters wander

Amidst the northern ice ;
Where through the sand of morning-land

The camel bears the spice ;
Where Atlas flings his shadow

Far o'er the western foam,
Shall be great fear on all who hear
The mighty name of Rome.'

IVEY:

A SONG OF THE HUGUE^OTS.

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land
of France I

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,
For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Hurrah! Hurrah 1 a single field hath turned the chance of war,
Hurrah 1 Hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre.

Oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day.
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array j
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers.
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears.
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ;
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand :
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood :

180

irsr.

And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war
To hght for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. '

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour drest
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant' crest.
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye •
Ho looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern'and high
R.«1U graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing
Down an our line a deafening shout, ' God save our L 1 the King ! '
And ,f my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray '
Press wi,ere ye see my White plume shine, amidst theranksof war
And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.'

Hurrah I the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din

Of hfe, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin

The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain *

With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne '

Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France

Charge for the golden lilies,-upon them with the lance '

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousnnd spears in rest

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white c'rest •

And m hey burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, '

Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre

Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath turned his rein
DAumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is slain
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale-
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van
Remember St. Bartholomew,' was passed from man to man
But out spake gentle Henry, ' No Frenchman is my foe •
*Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go '

A SONG OF TBB HUGUENOTS. 131

Oh I was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,
A3 our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre?

Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for Franco to-day
And many a lordly banner Qod gave them for a prey.
But we of the religion have borne us best in fight •
And the good Lord of Rosny has ta'ea the cornet white.
Our owu true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en,
Tlie cornet wliite with croaacs black, the flag of false'Lorraine.
Up with it liigl, ; unfurl it wide ; that all the host may know
flow Qod hath huoihled the proud house which wrought His
church such woe.

Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest point of
war,

Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of Navarre.

Ho! maidens of Vienna; Ho! matrons of Lucerne;
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who neve'r shall return.
Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's
souls.

Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright •
Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night.
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the
slave,

And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valour of the brave.
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are ;
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre.

1824.

THE AEMADA:

A FRAGMENT.

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise ;
I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days
Wh.jn that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain)

It was about the lovely close of a warm sumnfer day,
There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay
Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle
At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile.
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace ;
And the tall Plata, till the noon, had held her close in chase.
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall ;
The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall ;
Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the coast,
And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post.
With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff' comes ;
Behind him march the halberdiers ; before him sound the drums •
His yoemen round the market cross make clear an amnlft snnne •
For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace.

THE ARMADA.

133

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gailj dance the bells

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells '

Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown

And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field

Bohemia s plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cesar's eagle shield '

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay

^ And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunte'rs lay

Hoi strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers fair
maids : '

Ho I gunners, fire a loud salute : ho I gallants, draw your blades •
Thou sun, shine on her joyously ; ye breezes, waft her wide •
Our glorious semper eadbm, the banner of our pride. '

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold
The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold
Night sank upon the dusky beach and on the purple sea.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay,
That time of slumber was as bright aud busy as the day ;
For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread,
High on St Michael's Mount it shone : it shone on Beachy Head. '
Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, ' -
Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire
The fisher left his skiflF to rock on Tamar's glittering waves :
The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless caves :
O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald
flew :

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu.
Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol
town.

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down •

The ap.ntinol r.r. wruu«u„ii i . , - . . '

..,, „ „,,ciiaii giiLu iooKea loriii into the night

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood-red light.

134

THE ARMADA.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the deathlike silence broke
And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke.
At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires *
At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires •
From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear •
And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer :
And from the furthest vvards was heard the rush of hurrying feet
And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roar-
ing street;
And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din
As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in :
And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the warlike errand
went,

And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of Kent.

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers
forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the
north ;

And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still :

All night from tower to tower they sprang; they sprang from hill
to hill:

Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales,
Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales
Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height,
Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of light,
Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately fane,
And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless plain ;
Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent,
And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent;
Till Sl'iddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile,
And the red glare on Sklddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.

1M2-

THB BND.

►roke, ^

of fear ;
cheer :
ag feet,
;h roar-

'»

errand

Jent.
ouriers

for the

m hill

ales,

leight,
ight,
le,
ain ;

pile,

le.

i '

LA YS

THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS

AND OTHER POEMS.

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNB AYTOTUf, D.C.L.,

Prqfmor of Rhetoric and English Literature in th»
University of Edinburgh.

ammmimmmmmra

1--

THE BIGHT HOKOVRABLB

ARCHIBALD WILLIAM MONTGOMERIE,

e&xl 0f eglittton uxm minton, 3SiM.,

THE PATEIOTIO AND KOBLB RBPRBSENTATIVB OF AN
ANCIENT SCOTTISH BAOE|

THIS VOLUME IS EESPECTFDLLT INSCRIBED

BY THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS

LAYS OP THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS

PASS
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN I43

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE 163

THE HEART OF THE BRUOB I79

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE 193

THE WIDOW OF GLENOOE 215

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS 230

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES , 249

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER „.., 28S

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS '

BLIND OLD MILTON 301

HERMOTIMUS , , 8q3

(ENONB ., gjQ

THE BURIED FLOWER 322

THE OLD OAMP :,.., 831

DANUBE ASB xHiS SUStKB , gjj^

MMMHMMMMMMWa

142

CONTENTS.

MISOELLANEOUS FOKM&-( CimMnutfd)

THB SCBEIK OF BINAI gjj

EPITAPH OF CONSTAKTINB KANABIS 843

THB HBFUaAL OF OHAHON , g^

APPENDIX

BXAMINATIO OF THB STATEMENTS IN MR MACAULAY'S HISTOBT
OF ENGLAND, REOABDINO JOHN ORAHAMB OF CLAVEBHOUSB,
TISOOUNT OF DUNDEE , 345

EDINBUEGH AFTEK FLODDEN.

The great battle of Flodden was fought upon the 9th of
September 1513. The defeat of the Scottish army,
resulting mainly from the fantastic ideas of chivalry
entertained by James IV., and his refusal to avail himself
of the natural advantages of his position, wag by far the
most disastrous of any recounted in tne history of the
northern wars. The whole strength of the kingdom, both
Lowland and Highland, was assembled, and the contest
was one of the sternest and most desperate upon record.

For several hours the is3ue seemed doubtful. On the
left the Scots obtained a decided advantage ; on the right
wing they were broken and overthrown ; and at last the
whole weight of the battle was brought into the centre,
where King James and the ilarl of Surrey commanded in
person. The determined valour of James, imprudent as
it was, had the effect of rousing to a pitch of desperation
the courage of th^ meanest soldiers; and the ground
becoming soft and slippery from blood, they pulled off
their boots and shoes, and secured a firmer footing by
fighting in their hose.

144 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISn CA VALIERS.

"It is owned," says Abercromby, -that both parties
did wonders, but none on either side performed more than
the King himself. He was again told that, by coming to
handy blows, he could do no more than another nmn
whereas, by keeping the post due to his station, he mi.^ht
be worth many thousands. Yet he would not only fir^ht
in person but also on foot; for he no sooner saw Li
body of the English give way which was defeated by the
H^arl of Huntly, but he alighted from his horse, and
commanded his guard of noblemen and gentlemen to do
the like and follow him. He had at first abundance of
suecess ; but at length the Lord Thomas Howard and Sir
Edward Stanley, who had defeated their opposites, comin<>.
in with the Lord Dacre's horse, and surrounding the
King s battalion on all sides, the Scots were so distressed
that, for their last defence, they cast themselves into a
ring ; and, being resolved to die nobly with their sove- '
reign, who scorned to ask quarter, were altogether cut off.
So say the English writers, and I am apt to believe that
they are in the right."

The combat was maintained with desperate fury until
nightfall. At the close, according to Mr Tytler, '' Surrey
was uncertain of the result of the battle : the remains of
the enemy's centre still held the field ; Home, with his
Borderers, still hovered on the left ; and the commander
wisely allowed neither pursuit nor plunder, but 'drew off
his men, and kept a strict watch during the night
When the morning broke, the Scottish artillery were seen
standing deserted on the side of the hill : their defenders
had disappeared ; and the Earl ordered thanks to be
given for a victory which was no longer doubtful Yet
even after all this, a body of the Scots appeared unbroken

EDJNBUmU AFTER FLODDEN. 145

upon a hill, and were about to charge the Lord Admiral
when they were compelled to leave their position by a
discharge of the English ordnance.

'' The loss of the Scots in this fatal battle amounted to
about ten thousand men. Of these a great proportion
were of nigh rank ; the remainder being composed of the
gentry, the farmers and landed yeomanry, who disdained
to fly when their sovereign and his nobles lay stretched in
heaps around them." Besides King James, there fell at
Flodden the Archbishop of St Andrews, thirteen earls
two bishops, two abbots, fifteen lords and chiefs of clans
and five peers' eldest sons, besides La Motte the French
ambassador, and the secretary of the King. The same
historian adds-- The names of the gentry who fell are too
numerous for recapitulation, since there were few families
of note m Scotland which did not lose one relative or
another, whilst some houses had to weep the death of all.
It IS f-om this cause that the sensations of sorrow and
national lamentation occasioned by the defeat were pecu-
liarly poignant and lasting_so that to this day few Scots-
men can hear the name of Flodden without a shudder of
gloomy regret."

The loss to Edinburgh on this occasion was peculiarly
great. All the magistrates and able-bodied citizens had
followed their King to Flodden, whence very few of them
returned. The office of Provost or chief magistrate of
the capital was at that time an object of ambition, and was
conferred only upon persons of high rank and station.
lUere seems to be some uncertainty whether the holder
01 this dignity at the time of the battle of Floddea
was feir Alexander Lauder, ancestor of the Fountainhall
iamily, who was elected in 1511, or that great historical

146 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS

personage, Archibald Earl of Angus, better known as
Archibald Bell-the-Cat, who was chosen in 151.^, the year
of the battle. Both of them were at Flodden. The
name of Sir Alexander Lauder appears upon the list of
the slain. Angus was one of the survivors ; but his son,
George, Master of Angus, fell fighting gallantly by the
side of King James. The city records of Edinburgh,
which commence about this period, are not clear upon the
point, and I am rather inclined to think that the Earl of
Angus was elected to supply the place of Lauder. But
although the actual magistrates were absent, they had
formally nominated deputies in their stead. I find, on
referring to the city records, that " George of Tours"
had been appointed to officiate in the absence of the Pro-
vost, and that four other persons were selected to discharge
the oflSce of bailies until the magistrates should return.

It is impossible to describe the consternation which
pervaded the whole of Scotland when the intelligence of
the defeat became known. In Edinburgh it was exces-
sive. Mr. Arnot, in the history of that city, says—

" The news of their overthrow in the field of Flodden
reached Edinburgh on the day after the battle, and over-
whelmed the inhabitants with grief and confusion. The ■
streets were crowded with women seeking intelligence
about their friends, clamouring and weeping. Those who
officiated in absence of the magistrates proved themselves
worthy of the trust. They issued a proclamation, ordering
all ^he inhabitants to assemble in military array for de-
fence of the city, on the tolling of the bell ; and command-
ing, 'that all women, and especially strangers, do repair
to their 7/ork, and not be seen upon the street damorand
and cryand; and that women of thfi hpffpr ««rf ^n v^«„;.

MDINBmQB AFTER FLODDm. UJ

to the church and offer np-nravera «t *i.„ ^ , , ,
fur niir «„, • T , '^ l'™?^™. at the stated honra
lor our Sovereign Lord and his army and th^ f„ '

who are with the army.' " ^' '"wnsmen

Indeed, the Council records bear ample evidence of
the emergency of that occasion. Throuio„,T. ,. ^
pages the word " Flowdoun" frequ n^fy ^ * Jfir
n.arg.„ u. reference to various hurried oLZZ 1 n!
and defence; and there can be no doubt that, hT h!
English forces attempted to follow up their victorv !
attack the Scottish capita,, the citi Js Sd C'^LII
ed to the last. But it soon became apparent that !h. 1
sustained by the English was so severtbl t ^e^ w^
n no condition to avail himself of the ;pportunity and
.f^ortly afterwards, he was comj^Ld to Land

The references to the city banner contained i„ the

following poem, may require a word of explanation U

is a standard still held in great honour and reve n;e by

he burghers of Edinburgh, having been presen'd t^

nT482' tZ ■' " T"" '" ''''" '"^^^ -"■-
M r, u """"■' "'""S '''* t"-^* »f tie Earl
Marischal still conspicuous in the Library of the Faculty

of Advocates, was honourably brought back from Flodden
and certainly never could have been displayed in a ™
memorable field. Maitland says, .itl.lXtZV^^
very interesting relic of antiquity—

"As a perpetual remembrance of the loyalty and
bravery of the Edinburghers ou the aforesaid^ocfasien
the King granted them a banner or standard, with a Zer
to display the same in defence of their king, country and
their own rights. This flag is kept bv the ar.,„i'Z
the Trades; at whose appearance therewith, it is said that

148 LAYS OF TBE SCOTTISM CAVALIERS.

not only the artificers of Edmburgh are obliged to repair
to it, but all the artisans or craftsmen within Scotland are
bound to follow it, and fight under the Convener of Edin-
burgh as aforesaid."

Ko event in Scottish history ever took a more lasting
hold of the public mind than the " woeful fight" of Flod-
den ; and, even now, the songs and traditions which are
current on the Border recall the memory of a contest
unsullied by disgrace, though terminating in disaster and
defeat.

EDINBUEGH AFTER FLODDEIf.

News of battle 1— news of battle I

Hark I 'tis ringing down the street:
And the archways and the pavement

Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle I who hath brought it?

News of triumph ? Who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,

Greetings from our gallant King?
All last night we watched the beacons

Blazing on the hills afar,
Each oile bearing, as it kindled,

Message of the opened war.
All night long the northern streamers

Shot across the trembling sky :
Fearful lights that never beckon

Save when kings or heroes die.

News of battle I Who hath brought it ?

All are thronging to the gate ;
* Warder— warder ! open quicklv :

Man— is this a time to wait?"

150

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

' ■

And the heavy gates are opjned:

Then a murmur long and loud,
And a cry of fear and wonder

Bursts from out the bending crowd.
Fjf they see in battered harness

Only one hard-stricken man ;
And his weary steed is wounded,

And his cheek is pale and wan :
Spearless hangs a bloody banner

In his weak and drooping hand-
God I can that be Randolph Murray,

Captain of the city band ?

HI.

Round him crush the people, crying,

" Tell us all— oh, tell us true I
Where are they who went to battle,

Randolph Murray, sworn to you ?
Where are they, our brothers — children ?

Have they met the English foe ?
Why art thou alone, unlbllowed?

Is it weal or is it woe ? "
Like a corpse the grisly warrior

Looks from out his helm of steel j
But no word he speaks in answer —

Only with his arm^d heel
Chides his weary steed, and onward

Up the city streets they ride
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children.

Shrieking, praying by his side.
" By the God that made thee, Randolph I

Tell us what mischance hath come."
Then he lifts his riven banner.

And the asker's voice is dumb.

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN.

151

IV.

The elders of the city-
Have met within their hall—
The men whom gcod King James had charged

To watch the tower and wall.
" Your hands are weak with age," he said,

*' Your hearts are stout and true ;
So bide ye in the Maiden Town,

While others fight for you.
Mj trumpet from the Border-side

Shall send a blast so clear,
That all who wait within the gate

That stirring sound may hear.
Or, if it be the will of Heaven

That back I never come.
And if, instead of Scottish shouts,

Ye hear the English drum, —
Then let the warning bells ring out,

Then gird you to the fray.
Then man the walls like burghers stout,

And fight while fight you may.
'Twere better that in fiery flame

The roofs should thunder down,
Than that the foot of foreign foe
Should trample in the town I"

Then in came Randolph Murray,—
His step \/as slow and weak.

And, ds he doffed his dinted helm.
The tears ran down his cheek :

162 LAYS Of TBE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

They fell upon his corslet

And on his mailed band,
As he gazed around him wistfully,

Leaning sorely on his brand.
And none who then beheld him

But straight were smote with fear,
For a bolder and a sterner man

Had never couched a spear.
They knew so sad a messenger

Some ghastly news must bring ;
And all of them were fathers,

And their sens were with the King.

VI.

And up then rose the Provost—

A brave old man was he,
Of ancient name, and knightly fame,

And chivalrcas degree.
He ruled our city like a Lord

Who brooked no equal here,
And ever fpr the townsman's rights

Stood up 'gainst prince and peer.
And he had seen the Scottish host

March from the Borough-muir,
With music-storm and clamorous shout,
And all the din that thunders out

When" youth's of victory sure.
But yet a dearer thought had he,—

For, with a father's pride,
He saw his last remaining son

Go forth bT Handnlnh'a a\Ha

„ ^ _ J

EDmnnROH APTER flodden.

With Casque on he^d and spur on heelj
All keen to do and dare ;

And proudly did that gallant boy
Dunedin's banner bear.

Oh ! woeful now was the old man' look^
And he spake right heavily-a-

"Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings,
However sharp they be 1

Woe is written on thy visage,
Death is looking from thy face

Speak 1 though it be of overthrow-
It cannot be disgrace I ^

163

vir.

ftight bitter was the agony
That wrung that soldier ptoud :

Thrice did he strive to answer,
And thrice he groaned aloud%

Then he gave the riven banner
To the old man's shaking hand,

Saying—" That is all I bring ye
From the bravest of the land

Ay ! ye may look upon it-
It was guarded well and long,

By your brothers and joya children,
By the valiant and the strong.

One by one they fell around it.
As the archers laid them low,

Grimly dying, still unconquered.
With their faces to the foe.

1B4 LAVS OF TEE 8C0TTISE CAVALIERS.

Ay! ye may well look upon it-
There is more than honour there,

Else, be sure, I had not brought it
From the field of dark despair.

Never yet was royal banner
Steeped in such a costly dye ;

It hath lain upon a bosom
Where no other shroud shall lie.

Sirs ! I charge you, keep it holy ;
Keep it as a sacred thing,

For the stain ye see upon it
Was the life-blood of your King I "

VIII.

Woe, antl woe, and lamentation I

What a piteous cry was there !
Widows, maidens, mothers, children,

Shrieking, sobbing in despair !
Through the streets the death-word rushes,

Spreading terror, sweeping on—
" Jesu Christ I our King has fallen—

Great God, King James is gone I
Holy Mother Mary, shield us.

Thou who erst didst lose thy Son!
the blackest day for Scotland

That she ever knew before I
our King— the good, the noble,

Shall we see him never more ?
Woe to us, and woe to Scotland 1
our sons, our sons and men I
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron,
Surely some will come again I

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN.

Till the oak that fell last winter
Shall uprear its shattered stem —

Wives and mothers of Dunedin —
Ye may look in vain for them I

IX.

But within the Council Chamber

All was silent as the grave,
Whilst the tempest of their sorrow

Shook the bosoms of the brave.
Well indeed might they be shaken

With the weight of such a blow :
He was gone— their prince, their idol,

Whom they loved and worshipped so I
Like a knell ot death and judgment^

Rung from heaven by angel hand,
Fell the words of desolation

On the elders of the land.
Hoary heads were bowed and trembling.

Withered hands were clasped and wrung;
God had left the old and feeble,

He had ta'en away the young.

156

Then the Provost he uprose.

And his lip was ashen white ;
But a flush was on his brow,

And his eye was full of light.
*' Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray,

Like a soldier stout and true ;
Thou hast done a deed of daring

Had been perilled but by t^yr.

166

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

For thou hast not ahamed to face us,
Nor to speak thv ghastly tale,

Standing— thou a knight and captain-
Hen., alive within thy mail I

Now, as my God shall judge me,
I hold it braver done.

Than hadst thou tarried in thy place,
And died above ray son I

Thou needst not tell it : he is dead.

God help us all this day!
But speak— how fought the citizens

Within the furious fray ?
For by the might of Mary I

'Twere fiome thing still to tell
That no Scottish foot went backward
When tho Royal Lion fell 1 "

XI.

" No one failed him ! He is keeping

Royal state and semblance still ;
Knight and noble lie around him,

Cold on iUodden's fatal hill.
Of the brave and galla. t-hearted,

Whom you sent with prayers away,
Not a single man departed

From bis Monarch j'esterday.
Had you seen them, my masters I

When the night began to fall.
And the Jdnglish spearmen gathered

Round a grim and ghastly wall
As the wolves in winter circle

Round thf> leaguer on the heath.
So the greedy foe glared upward,

.„«^ =mii iV4 uiuuu M>a;

aeath.

EDINEVRQE AFTER FLQDDEN,

But a rampart rose before them,

Which the boldest dared not scale;
Every stone a Scottish body,

Every step a corpse in mail I
And behind it lay our Monarch,

Clenching still his shivered sword;
By his side Montrose and Athole,

At his feet a Southron lord.
All so thick they lay together.

When thfj stars lit up the sky,
That I knew not who were stricken,

Or who yet remained to die.
Few there were when Surrey halted.

And his wearied Lost withdrew ;
None but dying men around me,

When the Eaglish trumpet blew,
Then I stooped, and took ihe banner,

As you see it, from his breast.
And I closed our herd's eyelids,

And I left him to his rest.
In the mountains growled the thunder.

As I leaped the woeful wall,
And the heavy clouds were settling

Over Plodden, like a pall."

XII.

So he ended. And the othera

Oared not any answer then ;
Sitting silent, dumb with sorrow.

Sitting anguish -struck, like men-
Who have seen the roaring torrent

Sweep their happy homes away.
And yet linger by the margin,

Staring wildly on the spray.

167

168

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISff CAVALIERS,

But, without, the maddening tumult

Waxes ever more and more,
And the crowd of walling women
Gather round the Council door.
Every dusky .spire is ringing

With a dull and hollow knell,
And the Miserere's singing

To the tolling of the bell.
Through the streets the burghers hurry.

Spreading terror as they go ;
And the rampart's thronged with watchers
For the coming of the foe.
. From each mountain-top a pillar

Streams into the torpid air
Bearing token from the Border

That the English host is there.
All without is flight and terror,
All within is woe and fear-
God protect thee, Maiden City,
For thy latest hour is near I

XIII.
No I not yet, thou high Dunedin 1

Shalt thou totter to thy fall ;
Though thy bravest and thy strongest

Are not there to man the wall.
No, not yet I the ancient spirit

Of our fathers hath not gone ;
Take it to thee as a buckler

Better far than steel or stone.
Oh, remember those who perished

For thy birthright at the time
When to be a Scot was treason,

AjUi +.n Oi<1o -RT-Wk TIT^ll -_•_- . •

, „4...ii TT anauu vriiue I

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN,

159

Have they not a voice among ns,

Whilst their hallowed dust is here?
Hear ye not a sumnions sounding

From each buried warrior's bier?
Up I— they say— and keep the freedom

Which we won you long ago :
Up I and keep our graves unsullied

From the insults of the foe I
Up ! and if ye cannot save them,

Come to us in blood and fire:
Midst the crash of falling turrets

Let the last of Scots expire 1

XIV.
Still the bells are tolling fiercely,

And the cry comes louder in;
Mothers wailing for their children,

Sisters for their slaughtered kin.
All is terror and disorder ;

Till the Provost rises up,
Calm, as though he had not tasted

Of the fell and bitter cup.
All so stately from his sorrow,

Rose the old undaunted chief.
That you had not deemed, to see him.

His was more than common grief.
" Rouse ye, Sirs I " he said ; " we may not

Longer mourn for what is done ;
If our King be taken from us.

We are left to guard his son.
We have sworn to keep the city

From the foe, whate'er they be.
And the oath that we have taken

160

■i

LAYS OF ms SC0TTT8B 0AVALIM8,

Death is noaror to us, brethren,
Than it seemed to those who died

Fighting yesterday at Ploddon,

By their lord and master's side.

Let us meet it then in paUence, *
Not in terror or in fear j

Though our hearts are ble'eding yonder,

Let our souls be steadfast hero.
Up, and rouse ye I Time is fleeting.

And we yet have much to do ;
Up f and haste ye through the city,

Stir the burghers stout and true'
Gather all our scattered people,

Fling the banner out once more,~

Randolph Murray I do thou boar it,

As it erst was borne before:
Never Scottish heart will leave it,

When they see their Monarch's gore

XV,

"Lot them cease that dismal knelling
It is time enough to ring.

When the fortress-strength'of Scotland

Stoops to ruin like its King.
Let the bells be kept for warning,

Not for terror or alarm ;
When they next are heard to thunder,

Let each man and stripling arm.
Bid the women leave their wailing-

Do they think that woeful strain.

From the bloody heaps of Flodden,'

Can redeem their dearest slain? '

EDINBVRQH AFTER FLODDBJST,

Bid them ceaae,— or rather hasten

To the churches every one ;
There to pray to Mary Mother,

And to her anointed Son,
That the thunderbolt above ug

May not fall in ruin yotj
That in fire and blood and rapine

Scotland's glory may not set.
Let them pray,--for never women

Stood in need of such a prayer I—
England's yeomen shall not find them

Clinging to the altars there.
No I if we are doomed to perish,

Man and maiden, let us fall,
And a common gulf of ruin

Open wide to whelm us all I
Never shall the ruthless spoiler

Lay his hot insulting hand
On the sisters of our heroes,

Whilst we bear a torch or brand I
Up 1 and rouse ye, then, my brothers,-—

But when next ye hear the bell
Sounding forth the sullen summons

That may be our funeral knell.
Once more let us meut iDgether,

Once more see each other's face ;
Then, like men that need not tremble,

Go to our appointed place.
God, our Father, will not fail us.
In that last tremendous hour, —
If all other bulwarks crumble,
Hb will be our strength and tower :

161

162 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Though the ramparts rock beneath us,

And the walls go crashing down,
Though the roar of conflagration

Bellow o'er the sinking town ;
There is yet one place of shelter,

Where the foemen cannot come
Where the summons never sounded

Of the trumpet or the drum.
There again we'll meet our children,

Who, on Flodden's trampled sod,
For their king and for their country

Rendered up their souls to God.
There shall we find rest and refuge,

With our dear departed brave
And the ashes of the city
Be our universal grave 1 "

II I

THE EXECUTION- OF MONTEOSE.

The most poetical chronicler would find-it impossible to
render the incidents of Montrose's brilliant career more
picturesque than the reality. Among the devoted cham-
pions who, during the wildest and most stormy period of
our history, maintained the cause of Church and King,
"the Great Marquis" undoubtedly is entitled to the fore-
most place. Even party malevolence, by no means extinct
at the present day, has been unable to detract from the
eulogy pronounced upon him by the famous Cardinal de
Retz, the friend of Cond^ and Turenne, when he thus
summed up his character :— " Montrose, a Scottish noble-
man, head of the house of Grahame— the only man in the
world that has ever realised to me the ideas of certain
heroes, whom we now discover nowhere but in the lives
of Plutarch— has sustained in his own country the cause
of the King his master, with a greatness of soul that has
not found its equal in our age."

But the success of the victorious leader and patriot is

almost til rn-oj-n in + /-> +V>/^ c^l... Jr> U,- +1- . ^ ii . .

; " '""^" "-^'"^ cuaae oy the noble magnanimity

and Christian heroism of the man in the hour of defeat

164 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

and death. Without wishing, in any degree, to revive a
controversy long maintained by writers of opposite political
and polemical opinions, it may fairly be stated that Scot-
tish history does not present us with a tragedy of parallel
interest That the execution of Montrose was the natural,
nay, the inevitable, consequence of his capture, may be
freely admitted even by the fiercest partisan of the cause
for which he staked his life. In those times, neither
party was disposed to lenity ; and Montrose was far too
conspicuous a character, and too dangerous a man, to be
foro-iven. But the ii^nominious and

savage

treatment

which he received at the hands of those whose station and
descent should at least have taught them to respect mis-
fortune, has left an indelible stain upon the memory of the
Covenanting chiefs, and more especially upon that of
Argyle.

The perfect serenity of the man in the hour of trial
and death, the courage and magnanimity which he dis-
played to the last, have been dwelt upon with admiration
by writers of every class. He heard his sentence deli-
vered without any apparent emotion, and afterwards told
the magistrates who waited upon him in prison, '' that he
was much indebted to the Parliament for the great honour
they had decreed him;" adding, "that he was prouder
to have his head placed upon the top of the prison, than
if they had decreed a golden statue to be erected to him
in the market-place, or that his picture should be hun"- in
the King's bed-chamber." He said, "he thanked them
for their care to preserve the remembrance of his loyalty,
by transmitting such monuments to the different parts of
the kingdom ; and only wished that he had flesh enough to
have sent a piece to every city in Christendom, as a token

revive a

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 166

of hU „n.hakeu love and fidelity to his king and county."
On he n,ght before his execution, he inscribed the follow-
ing Imes with u diamond on the window of his jail .—

"Let tlicm bestow on every a!rth a limb
Then open all my veins, that I may swim
To tl.ce, my Maker I in that crimson lalie •
Then place my parboiled head upon a stake-
Scatter my ashes-strew them in the air-
Lord I since thou knowest where all these atoms arc.
I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust
And coniident thou'lt raise mo with llie just."

After the Restoration the dust wa, recovered, the
scattered remnants collected, and the bones of the hero
conveyed to their final resting-pluce by a nun.crous assem-
blage of gentlemen of his family and name

There is no ingredient of fiction in the historical inci-
dents recorded in the following ballad. The indignities

hrongh Mmbnrgh, h.s appearance before the Estates,
and his last passage to the scaffold, as well as his uudaunt!
ed bearing, have all been spoken to by eyewitnesses of
the scene. A graphic and vivid sketch of the whole will
be found in Mr Mark Napier's volume, " The Life and
Times of Montrose"-, work as chivalrous in its tone as
the Chronicles of Froissart, and abounding in original and
most mteresfng materials; but, in order to satisfy „H
J"P e, the authorities for each fact are given in the shape
of notes. The ballad may be considered as a narrative of
the tra„sa..,ons, related by an aged Highlander, who had
followed Montrose throughout hiseamj.igns, to his gr.ud-
son, shortly before the battle of Killiocraukie

mimSm i f' m it' m S J. ' limm

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

\ i

Comb hither, Evan Cameron

Come, stand beside my knee —
I hear the river roaring down

Towards the wintry sea.
There's shouting on the mountain-side,

There's war within the blast —
Old faces look upon me,

Old forms go trooping past :
I hear the pibroch wailing

Amidst the din of fight.
And my dim spirit wakes again

Upon the verge of night.

II.

'Twas I that led the Highland host

Through wild Lochaber's snows,
What time the plaided clans came down

To battle wiih Montrose.
Fve told thee how the Southrons fell

Beneath the broad claymore,
A id how we smote the Campbell clan

My luvcrlochy's shore.

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE,

I've told thee how we swept Dundee,
And tamed the Lindsays' pride ;

But never have I told thee yet
How the great Marquis died.

III.

A traitor sold him to his foes ;

deed of deathless shame !
I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet

With one of Assynt's name-
Be it upon the mountain's side,

Or yet within the glen,
Stand he in martial gear alone,

Or backed by ar;n6d men-
Face him, as thou wouldst face the man

Who wronged thy sire's renown ;
Remember of what blood thou art.

And strike the caitiff down I

167

IV.

They brought him to the Watergate,

Hard bound with hempen span,
As though they held a lion there,

And not a fenceless man.
They set him high upon a cart —

The hangman rode below —
They drew his hands behind his back.

And bared his noble brow.
Then, as a hound is slipped from leash,

They cheered the common throng,
And blew the note with yell and shout.

i i.l

';;.

168 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

It would hare made a brcve man's heart

Grow sad and sick that dav.
To watch the keen malignant eyea

Bent down on that array.
There stood the Whig west-country lords,

In balcony and bow ;
There sat their gaunt and withered dames,

And their daughters all a-row.
And every open window

Was full as full might be
With black-robed Covenanting carles,
,, That goodly sport to see 1

VI.

But when he came, though pale and wan.

He looked so great and high.
So noble was his manly front,

So calm his steadfast eye ;—
The rabble rout forbore to shout,

And each man held his breath.
For well tbey knew the hero's soul

Was face to face with death.
And then a mouriful shudder

Through all the people crept,
And some that came to scoff at him

Now turned aside and wept.

VII.
But onwards — always onwards,

In silence and in gloom,
The dreary pageant laboured,

Till it reached^fthe house of doom.

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

Then first a woman's voice was heard

In jeer and laughter loud,
And an angry cry and a hiss arose

From the heart of the tossing crowd :
Then as the Gramme looked upwards

He saw the ugly amilp
Of him who sold his 'ang for gold—

The master-fiend Argj-le 1

VIII.

The Marquis gazed a moment,

And nothing did he say.
But the check of Argyle grew ghastly pale

And he turned his eyes away.
The painted' harlot by his side,

She shook through every limb,
For a roar like thunder swept the street,

And hands were clenched at him ;
And a Saxon soldier cried aloud,

" Back, coward, from thy place i
For seven long years thou hast not dared

To look him in the face,"

IX.

Had I been there with sword in hand.

And fifty Oamerons by,
That day through high Dunedin's streets

Had pealed the slogan-cry.
Not all their troops of trampling horse.

Nor might of mail6d men —
Not all the rebels in the south

Had borne us backwards then I

169

•

\j:i

i!i

170 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Once more his foot on Highland heath

Had trod as free as air,
Or I, and all who bore my name,

Been laid around him there 1

It might not be. T'ley placed him next

Within the solemn hall,
Where once the Scottish kings were throned

Anaidst their nobles all.
But there was dust of vulgar feet

On that polluted floor,
And perjured traitors filled the place

Where good meu sate before.
With savage gJee came Warristoun

To read the murderous doom ;
And then npro^o the great Montrose

In the middle of the room.

XI.

"Now, by my faith as belted knight,

And by the name I bear,
-And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross

That waves above us there

Yea, by a greater, mightier oath—

And oh, that such should be I— •
By that dark stream of royal blood

That lies 'twixt you and me —
I have not sought in battle-field

A wreath of such renown,
Nor dared I hope on my dying day
To win the martyr's crown !

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

171

XII.

" There is a chamber far away

Where sleep the good and brave,
But a better place ye i. ive named fcr me

Than by my father's prave.
For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might,

This hand hath always striven,
And ye raise it up for a witness still

In the eye of earth and heaven.
Than nail my head on yonder tower —

Give every town a limb —
And God who made shall gather them :

1 go from you to Him 1 "

XIII.

The morning dawned full darkly,

The rain came flashing down,
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt

Lit up the gloomy town :
The thunder crashed across the heaven,

The fatal hour was come ;
Yet aye broke in with muffled beat,

The 'larm of the drum.
There was madness on the earth below

And anger in the sky.
And yor ^g and old, and rich and poor

Came forth to see him die.

XIV.

Ah, God I that ghastly gibbet !

How dismal 'tis to see
The great tall spectral skeleton,

The ladder and the tree !

172

LAFS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Hark I hnrk ! It Is the clash of arms—

The bells begin to toll—
"He is coming! he is coming!

God's mercy on his soul I "
One last long peal of thunder—

The clouds are cleared away
And the glorious sun once more looks down

AmidL't the daxzling day.

i.l

XV.

"Ho is coming I he is coming!"

Like a bridegroom from his room,
Came the hero from his prison
To the scaffold and the doom.
There was glory on his forehead,

There was lustre in his eye
And he never walked to battle

More proudly than to die:
There was colour in his visage,

Though the cheeks of all were wan,
And they marvelled as they saw him pass,
That great and goodly man I

XVI.

He mounted up the scaffold,
And he turned him to the crowd •

But they dared not trust the people,

• So he might not speak aloud.

But he looked upon the heavens,
And they were clear and blue,

And in the liquid ether
The eye of God shone through

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

Yet a black and murky battlement

Lay resting on the hill,
As though the thunder slept within —

All else was calm and still.

173

XVII.

The grim Geneva ministers

With anxious scowl drew near,
As you have seen the ravens flock

Around the dying deer.
He would not deign them word nor sign,

But alone he bent the knee ;
And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace

Beneath the gallows-tree. .
Then radiant and serene he rose,

And cast his cloak away :
For he had ta'en his latest look

Of earth and sun and day.

xviir.

A beam of light fell o'er him,

Like a glory round the shriven.
And he climbed the lofty ladder

As it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cloud.

And a stunning thunder-roll ;
And no man dared to look aloft,

For fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound,

A hush and then a groan ;
And darkness swept across the sky —

The work of death was done !

174 LAYS

OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

NOTES TO THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

"^ traitor sold him to Ma foes:'— P. 167.

Zr.r^'TrT^ ^^'*""^^^ °^ *^^ ^^^^^ °* Sutherland records
wli / Z'^'"' °^ Invercarron) Montrose and Kinnoul
wandered up the river Kyle the whole ensuing night a^d 1

next day, and the third day also, without any food or sustenance

and at last came within the country of Assynt The Z ';

Kmnoul, being f.int for lack of n,eat,'and nofL ," to rave any

he perished. Mon rose had almost famished, but that he fortuned
m his misery to light upon a small cottage in that wilde ne'f
where he was supplied with some milk and bread.' Not even ^e
iron frame of Montrose could endure a prolonged existence under
such circumstances. He gave himself up to Macleodo Assynt ^

cons.derat.on of that circumstance, and, indeed, from the dictates
of honourable feeling and common humanity. As the Arly e
faction had sold the King, so this Highlander rendered h^o^n

"dutrtor" d f f ^ *'^ '"° '' ^^^ Covenanters, for wl"h
duty to the public' he was rewarded with four hundred bolls of
moal.»-2^APiEii's Life of Montrose.

" They brought him to the WatergateP-P . 167.

brZhtlf^ri A^^^'* "''^^"^"^ '^"^- ^-'^-^ to be
Drought from the Watergate on a cart, bareheaded, the hanjrman

in his livery covered, riding on the horse that draws the cart-the

E:rVh t dT ^^ '^'' ""''' ' ^^p«-*° '^^ ^°^"-thtf

House fnd it '^"^ *^^°«« '<> ^e brought to the Parliament
receiv; hi^ senten^ '" '' ""'T '' ^^^-«l"«"ts, on his knees, to
of fI nV T l-""'^'^ t° be hanged on a gibbet at the C oss

dfad aid th tf ^l^ ''' ''' 'P^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^°"^« «"«! he be
dead , and thereafter to be cut down by the hangman, hi. ho«d

uauu., una legB to be cut olt; and distributed as follows :-viz This

TUE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE,

;i,75

heaa to be affixed on an iron pin, and set on the pinnacle of the
west gavel of the new prison of Edinburgh ; one hand to be set
on the port of Perth, the other .oq the port of Stirling; one leg
and foot on the port of Aberdeen, the other on the port of Glasgow.
If at his death penitent, and relaxed from excommunication, then
the trunk of his body to be interred by pioneers in the Greyfriars •
otherwise, to be interred in the Boroughmuir, by the hangman's
men, under the galiovrs."— Balfour's Notes of Parliament.

It is needless to remark that this inhuman sentence was executed
to the letter. In order that the exposure might be more complete
the cart was constructed with a high chair in the centre, having
holes behind, through which the ropes that fastened him were
drawn. The author of the Wi(/ton Papers, recently published by
the Maitlaud Club, says, " The reason of his being tied to the cart
was in hope that the people would have stoned him, and that he
might not be able by his hands to save his face." His hat was
then pulled off by the hangman, and the procession commenced.

" But when he came, though pale and wan,
He looked so great and high." —P. I;j8.

" In all the way, there appeared in him such majesty, courage
modesty— and even somewhat more than natural— that those
common women who had lost their husbands and children in his
wars, and who were hired to stone him, were upon the sight of
him so astonished and moved, that their intended curses turned
into tears and prayers ; so that next day all the ministers preached
against them/or not stoning and reviling him." — Wigton Papers.

" Then first a woman^s voice was heard
In Jeer a7id laughter loud."— P. 169.

" It is remarkable that, of the irany thousand beholders, the
Lady Jean Gordon, Countess of Haddington, did (alone) publicly
insult and laugh at him; which being perceived by a gentleman
in the street, he cried up to her, that it became her better to sit
upon the cart for her adulteries."— Wigton Papers. This infamous
woman was the third daughter of Huntly, and the niece of Argyle.
It will hardly be credited that she was the sister of that gallant
Lord Gordon, who fell fighting by the side of Montrose, only five
years before, at the battle of Aidford !

176 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

" For seven long years thou hast not dared
To look him in the faceJ'—V. 169.

"The Lord Lorn and his new lady were also sitting on a
balcony, joyful spectators ; and the cart being stopped when
it came before the lodging where the Chancellor, Argyle, and
Warrisioun sat— that they might have time to insult— he,' sus-
pecting the business, turned his face towards them, whereupon
they presently crept in at the windows ; which being perceived by
an Englishman, he cried up, it was no wonder they started aside
at his look, for they durst not look him in the face these seven
years bygone."— Wigton Papers.

" IVith savage glee came Warrisioun
To read the murderous doom." — P. 170.

Archibald Johnston of Warristoun. This man, who was the
inveterate enemy of Montrose, and who carried tlie most selfish
spirit into every intrigue of his party, received the punishment of
his treasons about eleven years afterwards. It may be instructive
to learn how he met his doom. The following extract is from the
MSS. of Sir George Mackenzie :— " The Chancellor and oihers
waited to examine him; he foil upon his face, roaring, and with
tears entreated they would pity a poor creaturje who had forgot all
that was in the Bible. This moved all the spectators with a deep
melancholy ; and the Chancellor, reflecting upon the man's great
parts, former esteem, and the great share he had in all the
late revolutions, could not deny some tears to the frailty of siJly
mankind. At his examination, he pretended he had lost so much
blood by the unskilfulness of his chirurgeons, that he lost his
memory with his blood; and I really believe that his courage had
been drawn out wiili it. Within a few days he was brought before
the parliament, where he discovered nothing but much weakness,
running up and down upon his knees, begging mercy; but the
parliament ordained his former sentence to be put to execution,
and accordingly he was executed at the Cross of Edinburgh."

" And God who made shall gather them :
I go from you to Jlim."—P. 171,

" He said he was much beholden to the parliament for the
honour they put on him; 'for,' says he, ^ think It a greater

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

177

honour to have my head standing on the port of this town, for this
quarrel, than to have my picture in tlio king's bed-chamber. I am
beholden to you that, lest my loyalty should be forgotten, ye have
appointed five of your most eminent towns to bear witness of it to
posterity." — Wiglon J'ajjers.

" JJe is coming I he is coming I
Like a bridegroom from his room!^ — P. 172.

"In his downgoings from the Tolbooth to the place of exe-
cution, he was very riclily clad in fine scarlet, laid over with rich
silver lace, his hat in his hand, his bands and cuffs exceeding
rich, his delicate white gloves on his hands, his stockings of
incaniaie silk, and his shoes with tiieir ribbons on his feet;
and sarks provided for him with [)earling about, above ten pounds
tlie elne. All tliese were provided for him by his friends, and
a pretty cassock put on upon him, upon the scaffold, wherein
he was haugeU. To be short, uotliiug was here dehcientto honour
his poor carcase, more beseeming a bridegroom than a criminal
going to the gallows."— Nicholl's JJiarg.

'•'■The grim Geneva ministers
With anxious scowl drew near^ — P. 173.

The Presbyterian ministers beset Montrose both in prison and on
the scaffold. The following extracts are from the diary of the
Rev. Robert Traill, one of the persons who were appointed by the
commission of the kirk " to deal with him :"— " liy a warrant from
the kirk, we staid a while with him about iiis soul's condition
But we found him continuing in his old pride, and taking very ill
what was spoken to him, saying, *1 ])ray you, gentlemen, let
me die in peace.' It was answered that he might die in true
peace, being reconciled to the Lord and to his kirk."— " We
returned to the commission, and did show unto them what had
passed amongst us. They, seeing that for the present he was not
desiring relaxation from his censure of excommunication, did
appoint Mr Mungo Law and me to attend on the moirow on
the scaffold, at the time of his execution, that, in case he should
desire to be relaxed from his excommunication, we should be
allowed to give it unto him in the name of the kirk, and to pray
with him, and for him, thai what is loosed on earth might be loosed in

178 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

heaven." But this pious intention, which may appear somewhat
strange to the modern Calvinist, when the prevailing theories
of the kirk regarding the efficacy of absolution are considered, was
not destined to be fulfilled. Mr Traill goes on to say, " But he
did not at all desire to bo relaxed from his excommunication in
the name of the kirk, yea, did not look towards that place on
the scaffold where we stood ; only he drew apart some of the magis-
trates, and spake a while with them, and then went up the ladder,
in his red scarlet cassock, in a very stately manner."

" And he climbed the lofty ladder
As it were the path to heaven." — P. 173.

" He was very earnest that he might have the liberty to keep on
his hat — it was denied : he requested he might have the privilege
to keep his cloak about him — neither could that be granted.
Then, with a most undaunted courage, he went up to the top
of that prodigious gibbet."—" The whole people gave a general
groan ; and it was very observable, that even those who, at
his firpt appearance, had bitterly inveighed against him, could not
now abstain from tears." — Montrose Medivivus.

Bi ;

THE HEAET OF THE BRUCE.

Hector Boece, in his very delightful, though somewhat
apocryphal Chronicles of Scotland, tells us, that '' quhen
Schir James Douglas was chosin as maisi worthy of c..^
Scotland to pass with King Robertis hart to the Holy
Land, he put it in ane cais of gold, with arromitike and
precious iinyementis ; and tuke with him Schir William
Sinclare and Schir Robert Logan, with mony othir nobil-
men, to the haiiy graif ; quhare he buryit the said hart,
with maist reverence and solera]. -.itie that could be devi-
sit."

But no contemporary historian bears out the statement
of the old Canon of Aberdeen. Froissart, Fordoun, and
Barbour all agree that the devotional pilgrin^age of the
good Sir James was not destined to be accomplished, and
that the heart of Scotland's greatest King and hero was
brought back to the land of his nativity. Mr Tytler, in
few words, has so graphically recounted the leading events
of this expedition, the.: I do not hes'tate to adopt his
narrative : —

" As soon as the season of the year permitted, Dou«-las
having the lieait of hib beloved master under his charire.

^-...._, —

P w | ]i iiii ' ii'| W || | !i wji. i u I 111 .L j pjW U l L i m. l

180

LAYS OF TUB SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

set sail from Scotland, accompanied by a splendid retinue,
and anchored off Sluys in Flan dors, at this time the great
seaport of the NetherUad?*. His object was to find out
companions with whom he might travel to Jerusalem;
but he declined laudioir, and for twelve days received all
visitors on U^ard his ;*hip with a state almost kingly.

'''At Sluyshe heard that Alonzo, the king of Leon and
Castile, was carrying on war with Osmyn, the Moorish
governor of Granada. The religious mission which he
had embraced^ and the vows he had taken before leaving
Scotland, induced Douglas to consider Alonzo's cause as a
holy warfare ; and before proceeding to Jerusalem, he first
determined to visit Spain, and to signalise his prowess
against the Saracens. But his first field against the Infi-
dels proved fatal to him who, in the long English war,
had seen seventy battles. The circumstances of his death
were striking and characteristic. In an action near
Theba, on the borders of Andalusia, the Moorish cavalry
were defeated ; and after their camp had been taken,
Douglas, with his companions, engaged too eagerly in the
pursuit, and being separated from the main body of the
Spanish army a strong division of the Moors rallied and
surrounded them. The Scottish knight endeavoured to
cut his way through the Infidels, and in all probability
would have succeeded, had he not again turned to rescue
Sir William Saint Clair of Roslin, whom he saw in jeo-
pardy. In attempting this, he was inextricably involved
with the enemy. Taking from his neck the casket which
contained the heart of Bruce, he cast it before him, and
exclaimed with a loud voice, ' Now pass onward as thou
wert wont, and Douglas will follow thee or die I ' The
action and the sentiment wc'C heroic, and they were the

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE.

181

last words and deed of a heroic life, for Douglas fell over-
powered by his enemies; and three of his knights, and
many of his companions, were slain along with their
master. On the succeeding day, the body and the -casket
were both found on the field, and by his surviving friends
conveyed to Scotland. The heart of Bruce was deposited
at Melrose, and the body of the ' Good Sir James'— the
name by which he is affectionately remembered by his
countrymen— was consigned to the cemetery of his fathers
in the parish church of Douglas."

A nobler death on the field of battle is not recorded in
the annals of chivalry. In memory of this expedition,
the Douglases have ever since carried the armorial bear-
ings of the Bloody Heart surmounted by the Crown; and
a similar distinction is borne by another family. Sir
Simon of Lee, a distinguished companion of Douglas, was
the person on whom, after the fall of his leader, the cus-
tody of the heart devolved. Hence the name of Lockhart,
anl their eHu^j^ the Heart within a Fetterlock.

THE HEAET OF THE BEUCE.

I .i

It was upon an April morn,
"While yet the frost lay hoar,

We heard Lord James's bugle-horn
Sound by the rocky shore.

II.

Then down we went, a hundred knights,

All iii our dark array,
And flung our armour in the ships

That rode within the bay.

III.

We spoke not as the shore grew less

But gazed in silence back,
^Where the long billows swept away
Tlie foam behind our track.

WW,

And aye the purple hues decayed

Upon the fading hill,
And but one heart in all that ship

Was tranquil, cold, and still.

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE.

183

The good Lord Douglas paced the deck—

Oil, but Ill's face was wan !
Unlike the flush it used to wear

When in the battle-van.—

VI.

« Come hither, I pray, my trusty knight,

Sir Simon of the Lee ;
There is a freit lies near my soul

I needs must tell to thee.

VII.

" Thou know'st the words King Robert spoko

Upon his dying day:
How he bade me take his noble heart

And carry it far away ;

VIII.

" And lay it in the holy soil

Where once the Saviour trod,
Since he might not bear the blessed Cross,

Nor strike one blow for God.

IX.

" Last night as in my bed I lay,

I dreamed a dreary dream :—
Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand

In the moonlight's quivering beam.

" His robe was of the azure dj^e—
Snow-white his scattered hairs —

And even such a cross he bore
As good Saint Andrew bears.

184 LAYS OF run SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

XI.

" ' Why go ye forth, Lord James/ he aald,.

* With spear and belted brand ?
Why lo you take ii .^ dearest pledge

From this onr Scottish Imd ?

XII.
" * The sultry Lreoze of Galilee

Creeps through its groves of palm,
The olives on the Holy Mount

Stand glittering in the calm.

xiir

"'But 'tis not there that Scotland's heart
Shall rest, by God's decree,

Till the great angel calls the dead
To rise from earth and seal

XIV.
" ' Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede I

That heart shall pass once more
In fiery fight against the foe,

As it was wont of yore.

XV.

" ' And it shall pass beneath the Cross,
And save King Robert's vow ;

But other hands shall bear it back,
Not, James of Douglas, thou I '

XVI.

« Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray,

Sir Sunon of the Lee—
For truer friend had never man

Than thou hast been to me—

THIS HEART OF THE BRUCE,

XVII.

" If ne'er upon the Holy Land

'Tis mine in life to tread,
Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth

The relics of her dead,"

XVIII.

The tear was in Sir Simon's eye
As he wrung the warrior's hand—

" Betide me weal, betide me woo,
I'll hold by thy command.

XIX.

« But if in battle-front, Lord James,
'Tis ours once more to ride,

Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend,
Shall cleave me from thy side 1 "

XX.

And aye we sailed, and aye we sailed,

Across the weary sea,
Until one morn the coast of Spain

Rose grimly on our Iee.~

XXI.

And as we rounded to the port,
Beneath the watch-tower's wall.

We heard the clash of the atabals,
And the trumpet's wavering call.

XXII.
" Why sounds yon Eastern music here

So wantonly and long,
And whose the crowd of armM. men

That round von standard thron"?"

185

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186

LAFS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS-

XXIII.
. "The Moors have come from Africa

To spoil, and waste, and slay,
And King Alonzo of Castile
Must fight with them to-day."

XXIV.

"Now shame it were," cried good Lord James,

" Shall never be said of me,
That I and mine have turned apide

From the Cross in jeopardie !

XXV.

"Have down, have down, my merry men all-
Have down unto the plain ;

We'll let the Scottish lion loose!
Within the fields of Spain I "

XXVI.

"Now welcome to me, noble lord,

Thou and thy stalwart power ;
Bear is the sight of a Christian knight,

Who comes in such an hour I

XXVII.
"Is it for bond or faith you come,

Or yet for golden fee ?
Or bring ye France's lilies here.

Or the flower of Burgundie ? "

XXVIII.

" God greet thee well, thou valiant king.

Thee and thy belted peers-
Sir James of Douglas am I called,

And these are Scottish spears.

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE.

XXIX.

"We do not fight for bond or plight,

Nor yet for golden fee ;
But for the sake of our blessed Lord,

Who died upon the tree.

XXX.

" We bring our great King Robert's heart

Across the weltering wave,
To lay it in the holy soil

Hard by the Saviour's grave.

XXXI.

" True pilgrims we, by land or sea.

Where danger bars the way j
And therefore are we here, Lord King,

To ride with thee this day I "

XXXII.

The King has bent his stately head,
And the tears were in his eyne —

" God's blessing on thee, noble knight,
For this brave thought of thine I

XXXIII.
" I know thy name full well, Lord James ;

And honoured may I be,
That those who fought beside the Bruce

Should fight this day for me !

XXXIV.

" Take thou the leading of the van,

And charge the Moors amain ;
There is not such a lance as thine

In all the host of Spain 1"

187

Ii38 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

XXXV.

The Douglas turned towards us then,
Oh, but his glance was high I

" There is not one of all my men
But is as frank as I.

XXXVl.

" There is not one of all my knighta
But bears as true a spear —

Then— onwards, Scottish gentlemen,
And think, King Robert's here ! "

XXXVII.

The trumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew.
The arrows flashed like flame,

As, spur in side, and spear in rest,
Against the foe we came.

XXXVIII.

And many a beardbd Saracen
Went down, both horse and man :

For through their ranks we rode like corn,
So furiously we ran I

XXXIX.

But in behind our path they closed.

Though fain to let us through ;
For they were forty thousand men,
And we were wondrous few.

XL.
We might not see a lance's length.

So dense was their array.
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade

Still held them hard at bay.

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE,

XLI.
"Make in I make in ! " Lord Douglas cried-

" Make in, my brethren dear
Sir William of St Clair is down ;

We may not leave him here 1 "

XLII. .

But thicker, thicker grew the swarm,

And sharper shot the rain ;
And the horses reared amid the press,

But they would not charge again.

XLIII.
" Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James,

" 'TVou kind and true St Clair I
An' if I may not bring thee oflF,

I'll die beside thee there 1 "

XLIV.
Then in his stirrups up he stood,

So lionlike and bold,
And held the precious heart aloft

All in its case of gold.

XLV.

He flung it from him far ahead,

And never spake he more,
But — " Pass thee first, thou dauntless heart,

As thou wert wont of yore 1 "

XLVI.

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet.

And heavier still the stour,
Till the spears of Spain came shivering in,

And swept away the Moor

189

190

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

XLVII.
" Now praised be God, the day is won I

Tliey fly o'er flood and fell-
Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,

Good knight, that fought so well ? »

XLVIir.
"Oh, ride ye on. Lord King I" he said,

" And leave the dead to me ;
For I must keep the dreariest watch
That ever I shall dree I

XLIX.
" There lies above his master's heart.

The Douglas, stark and grim ;
And woe, that I am living man.

Not lying there by him I

"The world grows cold, my arm is old,

And thin my lyart hair,
And all that I loved best on earth

Is stretched before me there.

LI.

" Bothwell banks, that bloom so bright

Beneath the sun of May I
The heaviest cloud that ever blew

Is bound for you this day.

LII.

"And, Scotland, thou may'st veil thy ead

In sorrow and in pain :
The sorest stroke upon thy brow

Hath fallen this day in Spain I

THE BEART OF THE BRUCE,

•Lilt.

" We'll bear them back unto our ship,

We'll bear them o'er the sea,
And lay them in the hallowed earth,

Within our own countrie.

LIV.

"And be thou strong of heart. Lord King,

For this I tell thee sure,
The sod that drank the Douglas' blood

Shall never bear the Moor! "

LV.

The King he lighted from his horse,

He flung his brand awaj,
And took the Douglas by the hand,

So stately as he lay.

LVI.

" God give thee rest, thou valiant soul I
That fought so well for Spam ;

I'd rather half my land were gone,
So thou wert here again 1 "

Lvir.

We lifted thence the good Lord James,
And the priceless heart he bore •

And heaVily we steered our ship
Towards the Scottish shore.

LVIII.

No welcome greeted our return,

Nor clang of martial tread,
But all were dumb and hushed as death

Before the mighty dead.

191

192 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

im.

We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,
The heart in fair Melrose ;

And woeful men were we that day —
God grant, their souls repose I

THE BUEIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE.

It is very much to be regretted that no competent person
has as yet undertaken the task of compiling a full and
authentic biography of Lord Viscount Dundee. His
memory has consequently been left at the mercy of.
writers who have espoused the opposite political creed;
and the pen of romance has been freely employed to por-
tray as a bloody assassin one of the most accomplished
men and gallant soldiers of his age.

In order to do justice to Glaverhouse, we must regard
him in connection with the age and country in which he
lived. The religious diflferences of Scotland were then
at their greatest height ; and there is hardly any act of
atrocity and rebellion which had not been committed
by the insurgents. The royal authority was openly and
publicly disowned in the western districts: the Arch-
bishop of St Andrews, after more than one hairbreadth
escape, had been waylaid and barbarously murdered
by an armed gang of fanatics on Magus Muir ; and his
daughter was wounded and maltreated while interceding
for the old man'js life. The country was infested by ban-

194

LAFS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

I •

- r

ditti, who took every possible opportunity of shooting
down and massaorinp; any of the Htrag<;lin<:; soldiery : the
clergy were attacked and driven from their houses; so
that, throughout a considerable portion of Scotland, there
was no security either for property or for life. It was
lately the fashion to praise and magnify the Covenanters
as the most innocent and persecuted of men ; but those
who are so ready with their sympathy, rarely take the
pains to satisfy themselves, by reference to the annals of
the time, of the true character and motives of those men
whom they blindly venerate as martyrs. They forget, in
their zeal for religious freedom, that even the purest and
holiest of causes may bo sullied and disgraced by the
deeds of its upholders, and that a wild and frantic profes-
sion of faith is not always a test of genuine piety. It is
not in the slightest degree necessary to discuss whether
the royal prerogative was at that time arbitrarily used, or
whether the religious freedom of the nation was unduly
curtailed. Both points may be, and indeed are, admit-
ted — for it is impossible altogether to vindicate the policy
of the measures adopted by the two last monarchs of the
house of Stuart; but neither admission will clear the
Covenanters from the stain of deliberate cruelty.

After the battle of Philiphaugh, the royalist prisoners
were butchered in cold blood, under the superintendence
of a clerical emissary, who stood by rubbing his hands,
and exclaiming — " The wark gangs bonnily on I" Were
I to transcribe, from the pamphlets before me, the list of
the murders which were perpetrated by the country
people on the soldiery, oflScers, and gentlemen of loyal
principles, during the reign of Charles II., I believe that
no candid person would be surprised at the severe retalia-

THE BURIAL- MARCH OF DUNDEE.

195

tion which Was mado. It must be remembered that the
country was then under military law, und that the strict-
est orders had been issued by the Government to the
officers in command of the troops, to use every means
in their power for the effectual repression of the disturb-
ances. The necessity of such orders will become appar
rent, when wo reflect that, besides the open actions at
Aird's Moss and Diumclog, the city of Glasgow was
attacked, and the royal forces compelled for a time to fall
back upon Stirling.

Under such circumstances, it is no wonder if the
soldiery were severe in their reprisals. Innocent blood
may no doubt have been shed, and in some caaes even
wantonly; for when rebellion has grown into civil war
and the ordinary course of the law is put in abeyance it
is always impossible to restrain military licence. But it
is most unfair to lay the whole odium of such acts upon
those who were in command, and to dishonour the fair
name of gentlemen^ by attributing to them personally the
commission of deeds of which they were absolutely igno-
rant. To this day the peasantry of the western districts
of Scotland entertain the idea that Claverhouse was a
sort of fiend in human shape, tall, muscular, and hideous
in aspect, secured by infernal spells from the chance
of perishing by any ordinary weapon, and mounted on
a huge black horse, the especial gift of Beelzebub ! On
this charger it is supposed that he could ride up preci-
pices as easily as he could traverse the level ground — that
he was constantly accompanied by a body of desperadoes,
vulgarly known by such euphonious titles as " Hell's Tarn"
and ''the De'ils Jock/' and that his whole time was occu-
pied, day and night, in hunting Covenanters upon the

196 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

hills I Almost every rebel who was taken in arms and
shot, is supposed to have met his death from the indivi-
dual pistol of Cluverhouse; and the talcs which, from
time to time, have boon written by such in-enious persons
R3 the late Mr Gait and the Ettrick Shepherd, have
quietly been assumed as facts, and added to the store of
our traditionary knowledge. It is in vain to hint that
the chief commanders of the forces in Scotland could
have found little leisure, even had they possessed the
tnste, for pursuing single insurgents. Such suggestions
are an insult to martyrology ; and many a parish of the
west would be indignant were it averred tliat the tenant
of its grey stone had suffered by a meaner hand.

When we look at the portrait of Cluverhouse, and
survey tho calm, melancholy, and beautiful features of
the devoted soldier, it appears almost incredible that
he should have provoked so much calumny and misrepre-
sontaticn. But when— discarding modern historians, who
in too many instances do not seem to entertain the slight-
est scruple in dealing with the memory of the dead ^
—we turn to the writings of his contemporaries, who
knew the man, his character appears iu a very different
light. They describe him as one who was stainless in his
honour, pure in his faith, wise in council, resolute in
action, and utterly free from that selfishness which dis-
graced many of the Scottish statesmen of the time No
ooe dares question his loyalty, for he sealed that confes-
sion with his blood ; and it is universally admitted that
with him fell the last hopes of the reinstatement of the
house of Stuart.

* yi(^e Appendix.

TBB nVRIAL-MARcn OF DUNDEE. 197

I ma, perhapi bo permitted here, in the ab«>noe of a
better chronielcr, to mention a few purtieulars of his life
Which, I behove, are oomp..rutivcly unknown. John
Grahame of Claverhouse w.« a cadet of the family of
Fmtrie conneeted by intermarri„ge with the blood-royal
of Scotland. After completing hi« studies at the Univer-
«ty of St. Andrew,, he entered, a, waa the national eu,-
torn for gentlemen of good birth and limited means, into
forcgn service ; served some time in France as ^volunteer,
and afterwards went to Holland. He very .,oo^reeeived a
comn„ss,on as a cornet in a regiment of horse-guards
from the P„„ee of Orange, nephew of Ch es II and

Mary. His manner at that time is thus described — " He
was then ane esquire, under the title of John Grahame of
Claverhousc.; but the vivacity of his parts, and the deli-
cacy and justice of his understanding and iud.-ment
jomed with a certain vigour of mind and activity of body
d.stmgu.shed him in such a manner from all others of h^s
rank, that though he lived in a superior character, yet
he acqu^ed the love and esteem of all his equals as
well as of those who had the advantage of him in d.-nitv
and estate." >"o"";

By one of those singular accidents which we occasionally
meet with m history, Grahame, afterwards destined to
become his most formidable opponent, saved the life of the
i-rince of Orange at the battle of St Neff. The Prince's
torse had been killed, and he himself was in the grasp of
the enemy, when the young cornet rode to his rescue,
freed him from his assailants, and mounted him on hi
own steed. For thU service ho received a captain's com-

198

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

But, even in early life, William of Orange was not'
famous for keeping his promises. Some years afterwards
a vacancy in one of the Scottish Regiments in the Prince's
service occurred, and Claverhouse, relying upon the pre-
vious assurance, preferred his claim. It was disregarded,
and Mr Collier, afterwarda Earl of Portmore, was appoint-
ed over his head. It would seem that Grahame had
suspected some foul play on the part of this gentleman,
for, shortly after, they accidentally met and had an angry
altercation. This circumstance having come to the ears
of the Prince, he sent tor Captain Grahame, and adminis-
tered a sharp rebuke. I give the remainder of this
inci<^eut in the words of the old writer, because it must
be considered a very remarkable one, as illustrating the
fiery spirit and dauntless independence of Claverhouse.

" The Captain answered, that he was indeed in the
wrong, since it was more his Highness's business to have
resented that quarrel than his; because Mr Collier had
less injured him in disappointing him of the regiment,
than he had done his Highness iii making him break his
woid. * Then,' replied the Prince in an angry tone, ' I
make you full reparation ; for I bestow on you what is
more valuable than a regiment, when I give you your
right arm ! ' The Cuptain subjoined, that i-ince his
Highness had the goodness to give him his liberty, he
resolved to employ himself elsewhere, for he would not
lougor serve a Prince that had broken his word.

" The Captain, having thus thrown up his comnission,
was preparing in haste for his voyage, when a messenger
arrived from the Prince, with two hundred guineas for
the horse on which he had saved his life. The Captain
sent the horse, but he ordered the s-old to be distributed

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE.

199

he
not

among the grooms of the Prince's stables. It is said,
however, that his Highness had the generosity to write to
the King and the Duke, recommending him as a fine
gentleman and a brave officer, fit for any office, civil or
iiuilitary." *

On his ai'rival in Britain he was well received by the
Court, and immediately appointed to a high military com-
mand in Scotland. It would be beyond the scope of the
present paper to enter minu^^ly into the details of his
service during the stormy period when Scotland was cer-
tainly misgoverned and when there was little unity, but
much disorder in the land. In whatever point of view
we regard the history of those times, the aspect is a mourn-
ful one indeed. Church and St ite never was a popular
cry in Scotland ; and the peculiar religious tendencies
which had been exhibited by a large portion of the nation,
at the time of the Reformation, rendered the return of
tranquillity hopeless, until the hierarchy was displaced,
and a humbler form of church government, more suited
to the feelings of the people, substituted in its stead.

Three years after the accession of James VII., Claver-
house was raised to the peerage, by the title of Lord
Viscount of Dundee. He was major-general and second
in command of the rcyal forces, when the Prince of Orange
landed ; and he earnestly entreated King James to be
allowed to march against him, offering to stake his head
on the successml result of the enterprise. There can be
little doubt, from the great popularity of Lord Dundee
with the army, that, had such consent been given, William
would have found more than a match in his old officer ;

• Memoirs of the Lord Vuscount of Dundee. London: 1714.

200

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

but the King seemed absolutely infatuated, and refused
to allow a drop of blood to be shed in his quarrel, thouc^h
the great bulk of the population of England were clearly
and enthusiastically in his favour. A modern poet, the
Honourable Geor-e Sydney Smythe, has well illustrated
this event in the following spirited lines :

"Then out spake gallant Ciaverhouae, and his soul thrilled wild

and high,
And he showed the King his subjects, and he prayed him not to fly.
Oh^never yet was captain so dauntless as Dundee-
He has sworn to chase the Hollander back to his Zudyer-Zee I"

But though James quitted his kingdom, the stern
loyalty of Dundee was nothing moved. ^ Alone and with-
out escort he traversed England, »nd presented himself at
the Convention of Estates, then assembled at Edinburgh
for the purpose of receiving the message from the Prince
of Orange. The meeting was a very strange one. Many
of the nobility and former members of the Scottish Par-
liament had absolutely declined attending it,— some on
the ground that it was not a legal assembly, having been
summoned by the Prince of Orange ; and others be^cause,
m such a total disruption of order, they judged it safest
to abstain from taking any prominent part. This gave
an immense ascendancy to the Revolution party, who
further proceeded to strengthen their position by inviting
to Edinburgh large bodies of the armed population of
the west. After defending for several days the cause of
his master, with as much eloquence as vigour, Dundee,
finding that the majority of the Convention were resolved
to offer tb3 crown of Scotland to the Prince, and having
moreover received sure information that some of the wild

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE.

201

frantic Whigs, with Daniel Ker of Kersland at their
head, had formed a plot for his assassination, quitted
Edinburgh with about fifty horsemen, and, after a short
interview— celebrated by Sir Walter Scott in one of his
grandest ballads— with the Duke of Gordon at the Castle
rock, directed his steps towards the north. After a short
stay at his house of Dudhope, during which he received,
by order of the Council, who were thoroughly alarmed at
his absence, a summons through a Lyon-herald to return
to Edinburgh under pain of high treason, he passed into
the Gordon country, where he was joined by the Earl of
Dunfermline with a small party of about sixty horse.
His retreat was timeous, for General Mackay, who com-
manded for the Prince of Orange, had despatched a
strong force, with instructions to make him prisoner.
From this time, until the day of his death, he allowed
himself no repose. Imitating the example, and inheriting
the enthusiasm of his great predecessor Montrose, he in-
voked the loyalty of the clans to assist him in the struggle
for legitimacy,— and he did not appeal to them in vain.
His name was a spell to rouse the ardent spirits of the
mountaineers; and not the Great Marquess himself, in
the height of his renown, was more sincerely welcomed
and more fondly loved than "Ian dhu nan Cath,"— dark
John of the Battles, — the name by which Lord Dundee
is still remembered in Highland song. In the mean time
the Convention, terrified at their danger, and dreading a
Highland inroad, had despatched Mackay, a military
officer of great experience, with a considerable body of
troops, to quell the threatened insurrection. He was en-
countered bv Dundee, and nnmnpllprl fn nv^onnotQ +1,/^ i^.'^i,
country and fall back upon the Lowlands, where he sub-

202

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Bequently received reinforcements, and again marched
northward. The Highland host was assembled at Blair,
though not in great force, when the news of Mackay's
advance arrived ; and a council of the chiefs and officers
was summoned, to determine whether it would be most
advisable to fall back upon the glens and wild fastnesses
of the Highlands, or to meet the enemy at once, though
with a far inferior force.

Most of the old officers, who had been trained in the
foreign wars, were of the former opinion—" alleging that
it was neither prudent nor cautious to risk an engagement
against an army of disciplined men, that exceeded theirs
in number by more than a half." But both Glengarry
and Locheill, to the great satisfaction of the General,
maintained the contrary view, and argued that neither
hunger nor fatigue were so likely to depress the High-
landers as a retreat when the enemy was in view. The
account of the discussion is so interesting, and so charac-
teristic of Dundee, that I shall take leave to quote its
termination in the words of Drummond of Balhaldy :—

"An advice so hardy and resolute could not miss to
please the generous Dundee. His looks seemed to heighten
with an air of delight and satisfaction all the while Loch-
eill was speaking. He told his council that they had
heard his sentiments from the mouth of a person who had
formed his judgment upon infallible proofs drawn from a
long experience, and an intimate acquaintance with the
persons and subject he spoke of Not one in the company
offering to contradict their general, it was unanimously'
agreed to fight.

" When the news of this vigorous resolution spread
through the army, not.hino- waa Vipo^ri k,,^. „^^i„„_xr,_ , n

THE BURIAL-MARGH OF DUNDEE.

203

joy, which exceedingly pleased their gallant general ; but
before the council broke up, Locheill begged to be heard
for a few words. ' My Lord,' said he, 'I have just now
declared, in presence of this honourable company, that I
was resolved to give an implicit obedience to all your Lord-
ship's commands; but I humbly beg leave, in name of
these gentlemen, to give the word of command for this one
time. It is the voice of your council, and their orders
are that you do not engage personally. Your Lordship's
business is to have an eye on all parts, and to issue out
your commands as you shall think proper; it is ours to
execute them with promptitude and courage. On your
Lordship depends the fate, not only of this little brave
army, but also of our King and country. If your Lord-
ship deny us this reasonable demand, for my own part I
declare, that neither I, nor any I am concerned in, shall
draw a sword on this important occasion, whatever con-
struction shall be put upon the matter.'

" Locheill was seconded in this by the whole council; but
Dundee begged leave to be heard in his turn. ' Gentle-
men,' said he, 'as I am absolutely convinced, and have had
repeated proofs, of your zeal for the King's service, ana
of your aflFection to me as his general and your friend, so I
am fully sensible that my engaging personally this day
may be of some loss if I shall chance to be killed. But I
beg leave of you, however, to allow me to give one %hear
darg (that is, one harvest-day's work) to the King, my
master, that I may have an opportunity of convincing the
brave cla j^ ^hat I can hazard my life in that service as freely
as the meanest of them. Ye know their temper, gentlemen ;
and if they do not think I have personal courage enough!
they wiU not esteem me hereafter, nor obey my commands

204 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

with cheerfulness. Allow me this single favour, and I
here promise, upon my honour, never again to risk my
person while I have that of comm inding you.'

"The council, finding him inflexible, broke up, and
the army marched directly towards the Pass of Killie-
crankie."

Those who have visited that romantic spot need not be
reminded of its peculiar features, for these, once seen,
must dwell for ever in the memory. The lower part of
the Pass is a stupendous mountain-chasm, scooped out
by the waters of the Garry, which here descend in a suc-
cession of roaring cataracts and pools. The old road
which ran almost parallel to the river and close upon its
edge, was extremely narrow, and wound its way beneath
a wall of enormous crags, surmounted by a natural forest
of birch, oak, and pine. An army cooped up in that
gloomy ravine would have as little chance of escape from
the onset of an enterprising partisan corps, as had the
Bavarian troops when attacked by the Tyrolese in the
steep defiles of the Inn. General Mackay, however, had
made his arrangements with consummate tact and skill,
and had calculated his time so well, that he was enabled
to clear the Pass before the Highlanders could reach it
from the other side. Advancing upwards, the passage
becomes gradually broader, until, just below the House
of Urrard, there is a considerable width of meadow-land.
It was here that Mackay took up his position, and arrayed
his troops, on observing that the heights above were occu-
pied by the army of Dundee.

The forces of the latter scarcely amounted to one-
third of those of his antagonist, which were drawn up in
axixv, TTxuavuw anjr iCDCi\e. jj.u wub thereiore compelled

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE.

205

in making his disposit'ions, to leave considerable gaps in
his own line, which gave Mackay a furtlier advantage.
The right of Dundee's army was formed of the M'Lean,
Glengarry, and Clanraniild regiments, along with some
Irish levies. In the centre was Dundee himself, at the
head of a small and ill equipped body of cavalry, com-
posed of Lowland gentlemen and their followers, and
about forty of his old troopers. The Oamerons and
Skyemen, under the command of Looheil! and Sir Donald
Macdonald of Sleat, were stationed on the left. During
the time occupied by these dispositions, a brisk cannonade
was opened by Mackay's artillery, which materially
increased the impatience of the Highlanders to come to
close quarters. At last the word was given to advance,
and the whole line rushed forward with the terrific impe-
tuosity peculiar to a charge of the clans. They received
the fire of the regular troops without flinching, reserved
their own until they were close at hand, poured in a
murderous volley, and then, throwing away their firelocks,
attacked the enemy with the broadsword.

The victory was almost instantaneous, but it was
bought at a terrible price. Through some mistake or
misunderstanding, a portion of the cavalry, instead of fol-
lowing their general, who had charged directly for the
guns, executed a manoeuvre which threw them into disor-
der ; and when last seen in the battle, Dundee, accompa-
nied only by the Earl of Dunfermline and about sixteen
gentlemen, was entering into the cloud of smoke, standing
up in his stirrups, and waving to the others to come on.
It was in this attitude that he appears to have received
his death-wound. On returning from the pursuit, the
Highlanders found him dying on the field.

206 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

It would be difficult to point out another instance in
which the maintenance of a great cause depended solely
npon the life of a single man. Whilst Dundee survived,
Scotland at least was not lost to the Stuarts, for, shortly
before the battle, he had received assurance that the
greater part of the organized troops in the north were
devoted to his person, and ready to join him; and the
victory of Killiecrankie would have been followed by
a general rising of the loyal gentlemen in the Lowlands.
But with his fall the enterprise was over.

I »hope I shall not be accused of exaggerating the
importance of this battle, which, according to the
writer I have already quoted, was best proved by the
consternation into which the opposite party were thrown
at the first news of Mackay's defeat. " The Duke of
Hamilton, commissioner for the parliamant which then
sat at Edinburgh, and the rest of the ministry, were
struck with such a panic, that some of them were for
retiring into England, others into the western shires of
Scotland, where all the people, almost to a man, befriended
them; nor knew they whether to abandon the govern-
ment, or to stay a few days until they saw what use my
Lord Dundee would make of his victory. They knew
the rapidity of his motions, and were convinced that
he would allow them no time to deliberate. On this
account it was debated, whether such of the nobility and
gentry as were confined for adhering to their old master,
should be immediately set at liberty or more closely shut
up; and though the last was determined on, yet the
greatest revolutionists among them made private and fre-
quent visits to these prisoners, excusing what was past,
froin a fatai neecssity of the timeB, which obliged them

THE BUKIAL-MARCII OF DUNDEE.

207

to give a seeming compliance, but protesting that they
always wished well to King James, as they should soon
have occasion to show when my Lord Dundee advanced."
"The next morning after the battle," says Drummond,
" the Highland army had more the air of the shattered
remains of b/oken troops than of conquerors ; for here it
was literally true that

* The vanquished triumphed, and the victors mourned.'

The death of their brave general, and the loss of so many
of their friends, were inexhaustible fountains of grief
and sorrow. They closed the last scene of this mournful
tragedy in obsequies of their lamented general, and of the
other gentlemen who fell with him, and interred them in
the church of Blair of Atholl with a real funeral solem-
nity, there not being present one single person who
did not participate in the general affliction."

I close this notice of a great soldier and devoted loyal-
ist, by transcribing the beautiful epitaph composed by Dr.
Pitcairn : —

"Ultime Scotorum, potuit quo sospite solo
Libertas patriae salva fuisse tuae :
Te moriente, novos accepit Scotia civea,
AccepitquG novos, te moriente, deos.
Ilia tibi superesse aegat : tu non potes 1111 :
Ergo Oaledoniae nomen inane vale :
- Tuque vale, gentis priscae fortissime ductor,
Optime Scotorum atque ultime — Grame, vale I "

THE BUMAL-MAECH OF DUNDEE.

\ I.

Sound the fife, and cry the slogan —

Let the pibroch shake the air
With its wild triumphal music,

Worthy of the freight we bear.
Let the ancient hills of Scotland

Hear once more the battle-song
Swell within their glens and valleya

As the clansmen march along 1
Never from the field of combat,

Never from the deadly fray,
Was a nobler trophy carried

Than we bring with us to-day —
Never, since the valiant Douglas

On his dauntless bosom bore
Good King Robert's heart — the priceless—

To our dear Redeemer's shore I
Lo ! we bring with us the hero —

Lo I we bring the conquering Graeme,
Crowned as best beseems a victor

From the altar of his fame ;

THE BURIAL-MARC II OF DUNDEE.

209

Fresh and bleeding from the battle

Whence his spirit took its flight,
Midst the crashing charge of squadrons,

And the thunder of the fight I
Strilce, I say, the notes of triumph,

As we march o'er moor and lea I
Is there any here will venture

To bewail our dead Dundee?
Let the widows of the traitors

Weep until their eyes are dim I
Wail ye may full well for Scotland—

Let none dare to mourn for him 1
See I above his glorious body

Lies the royal banner's fold-
See I his valiant blood is mingled—

With its crimson and its gold —
See how calm he looks, and stately,

Like a warrior on his shield.
Waiting till the flush of morning

Breaks along the battle-fieldl
See — Oh never more, my comrades,

Sball we see that falcon eye
Redden with its inward lightning,
As the hour of fight drew nigh
Never shall we hear the voice that.

Clearer than the trumpet's call,
Bade us strike for King and Country,
Bade us win the field, or fall 1

II.

On the heights of Killiecrankie

Yester-morn our army lay :
Slowly rose the mist in columns

From the fivers broken way ;

.■

210 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

n«)iirscly roared the swollen torrent,

And the I'adei was wrapt in glue .],
When the chinsuion ruse together

From their hiir HniiiLst the hrootn.
Then w»' belled on our tartuns,

And our bonnets down wo drew,
And wo felt our brouddwordd' edges,

And we proved iheni to be true ;
And we prayed the prayer of uoldicrs,

And we cried the gathering-cry,
And we clasped tlie hands of kinsmen.

And we swore to do or die
Then our leader rode before us

On hi* war-horse black as night-
Well the Uameronian rebels

Knew that charger in the fight 1 —
And a cry of exultation

From the bearded warriors rose ;
For wo loved the house of Claver'so,

And we thought of good Montrose.
But he raised his hand for silence —

" Soldiers I I have sworn a vow :
Ere the evening star shall glisten

On Schehallion's lof'y brow,
Either we shall rest in triumph,

Or another of the Grtemes
Shall have died in battie-ham-.-ss

For his Country and King James I
Think upon the Royal Martyr —

Think of what his race endure —
Think of him whom butchers murdered

On the field of Magus Muir : —

THE BURIAL-MAROU OF DUNDEE^ 21 1

By hill HRcred blood I charge yo,

By the ruim-d henrth and ahrino—
By tho blighted hopes olHcotlaud,

By your liijuries and mine—
Strike this day aa if the anvil

Lay beneath your blows the while,
Be they covenanting troitors,

Or the brood of false Argylel
Strike I and drive the trembling rf bcla

Backwards o'er the stormy Forth ;
Let them tell their pale Convention
How they fared within tho North.
Let them tell that Highland honour

Is not to bo bought uor sold,
That wo scora their prince's anger •

As we loathe his foreign gold.
Strike! and when the fight is over.

If ye look in vain for me,
Where the dead are lying thickest,
Search for him that was Dundee I "

III.

Loudly then the hills re-echoed

With our answer to his call,
But a deeper echo sounded

In the bosoms of us all.
For the lands of wide Breadalbane,

Not a man who heard him speak
Would that day have left the battle.

Burning eye and flushing cheek
Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,

And they harder drew their breath ;
their souls were strong within them,

Stronger than the grasp of death.

212

LAF;S OF TEE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS

Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet

Sounding in the Pass below,
And the distant tramp of horses,

A.nd the voices of the foe :
Down we crouched amid the bracken.

Till the Lowland rauks drew near,
Panting like thf hounds in summer.

When they scent the stately deer.
From tht dark defile emerging,

Next we saw the squadrons come,
Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers

Marching to the tuck of drum ;
Through the scattered wood of birches.

O'er the broken ground and heath,
Wound the long battalion slowly,

Till they gained the plain beneath ;
Then we bounded from our covert. —

Judge how looked the Saxons then.
When they saw the rugged mountain

Start to life with arm^d men 1
Like a tempest down the ridges

Swept the hurricane of steel,
Rose the slogan of Macdonald —

Flashed the broadsword of Locheill 1
Vainly sped the withering volley

'Mongst the foremost of our band —
On we poured until we met them,

Foot to foot, and hand to hand.
Horse and man went down like drift-wood

When the floods are black at Yule,
And their carcasses are whirling

In the Garry's deepest pool.

■

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 213

Horse and man went down before us—

Living foe there tarried none
On the field of Killiecrankie,

When that stubborn fight was done I

•'

IV.

And the evening star was shining

On Schehallion's distant head,
When we wiped our bloody broads ivords

And returned to count the dead.
There we found him gashed and gory,

Stretched upon the cumbered plain,
As he told us where to seek him,

In the thickest of the slain.
And a smile was on his visage,

For within his dying ear
Pealed the joyful note of triumph.

And the clansmen's clamorous cheer :
So, amidst the battle's thunder.

Shot, and steel, and scorching flame
In the glory of his manhood

Passed the spirit of the Grame I

Open wide the vaults of Atholl,

Where the bones of heroes rest-
Open wide the hallowed portals

To receive another guest I
Last of Scots, and last of freemen-
Last of all that dauntless rac«,
vthu TTuuiu liiLuur uic unsuiliea
Than outlive the L ^,'s disgrace !

214

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

thou lion-hearted warrior 1

Reck not of the after- time :
Honour may be deemed dishonour,

Loyalty be called a crime.
Sleep in peace with kindred ashes

Of the noble and the true,
Hands that never failed their country,

Hearts that never baseness knew.
Sleep 1 — and till the latest trumpet

Wakes the dead from earth and sea,
Scotland shall not boast a braver

Chieftain than our own Dundee I

'm^mm

THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE.

The Massacre of Glencoe is an event which neither can
nor ought to be forgotten. It was a deed of the worst
treason and cruelty— a barbarous infracfon of all laws,
human and divine; and it exhibits in their foulest perfidy
the true characters of the authors and abettors of the
Revolution.

After the battle of Killiecrankie the cause of the Scot-
tish royalists declined, rather from the want of a competent
leader than from any disinclination on the part of a large
section of the nobility and gentry to vindicate the right of
King James. No person of adequate t ilents or authority
was found to supply the place of the great and gallant
Lord Dundee : for General Cannon, who succeeded in
command, was not only deficient in military skill, but did
not possess the confidence, nor understand the character of
the Highland chiefs, who, with their clansmen, constituted by
far the most important section of the army. Accordingly no
enterprise of any importance was attempted ; and the disast-
rous issue of the battle of the Bovne led to a neLmtintmn ^hini.
terminated in the entire disbanding of the royal forces!
By this treaty, which was expressly sanctioned by William

216 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

of Orange, a full and unreserved indemnity and pardon
was granted to all of the Highlanders who had taken
arms, with a proviso that they should first subscribe the
oath of allegiance to William and Mary, before the 1st of
January 1692, in presence of the Lords of the Scottish
Council, "or of the sheriffs or their deputies of the res-
pective shires wherein they lived." The letter of William
addressed to the Privy Council, and ordering proclamation
to be made to the above effect, contained also the follow-
ing signifirant passage : — " That ye communicate our
pleasure to the Governor of Inverlochy, and other
commanders, that they be exact and diligent in their
several posts ; but that they show no more zeal against the
Highlanders after their submission, than they have ever
done formerly when these were in open rebellion.*^

This enigmatical sentence, which in reality was intend-
ed, as the sequel will show, to be interpreted in the most
cruel manner, appears to have caused some perplexity in
the Council, as that body deemed it necessary to apply for
more distinct and specific instructions, which, however,
were not then issued. It had been especially stipulated
by the chiefs, as an indispensable preliminary to their
treaty, that they should have leave to communicate with
King James, then residing at St Germains, for the purpose
of obtaining his permission and warrant previous to sub-
mitting themselves to the existing government. That
article had been sanctioned by William before the procla-
mation was issued, and a special messenger was despatched
to France for that purpose.

In the mean time, troops were gradually and cautiously
advanced to the confines of the Highlands, and, in some
instances, actually quartered on the inhabitants. The con-

THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE.

217

dition of the country was perfectly tranquil. No disturb-
ances whatever occurred in the north or west of Scotland •
Locheill and the other chiefs were awaiting the commani-
cation from St Germuins, and held themselves bound in
honour to remain inactive ; whilst the remainder of the
royalist forces (for whom separate terms had been made)
were left unmolested at Dunkeld.

But rumours, which are too clearly traceable to the
emissaries of the new Government, asserting the prepara-
tion made for an immediate landing of King James at the
head of a large body of the French, were industriously
circulated, and by many were implicitly believed. The
infamous policy which dictated such a course is now appa-
rent. The term of the amnesty or truce granted by the
proclamation expired with the year 1691, and all who had
not taken the oath of allegiance before that term were to
be proceeded against with the utmost severity. The pro-
clamation was issued upon the 29th of August : conse-
quently, only four months were allowed for the complete
submission of the Highlands.

Not one of the chiefs subscribed until the mandate
from King James arrived. That document, which is
dated from St Germains on the 12th of December 1691,
reached Dunkeld eleven days afterwards, and, consequently,
but a very short time before the indemnity expired. The
bearer. Major Menzies, was so fiitigued that he could pro-
ceed no farther on his journey, but forwarded the mandate
by an express to the commander of the royal forces, who
was then at Glengarry. It was therefore impossible that
the document could be circulated through the Highlands
within the prescribed period. Locheill, says Drummond
of Balhaldy, did not receive his copy till about thirty

218 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

hours before the time was out, and appeared before the
sheriff at InveraYa, where he took the oaths upon the
very day on which the indemnity expired.

That a general massacre throughout the Highlands was
contemplated by the Whig Government is a foct estab-
lished by overwhelming evidence. In the course of the
subsequent investigation before the Scots Parliament,
letters were produced from Sir John Dalrymple, then
Master of Stair, one of the secretaries of state in attend-
ance upon the Court, which too clearly indicate the
intentions of William. In one of these, dated 1st
December 1691 — a month, be it observed, before the
amnesty expired — ^and addressed to Lieutenant-Colonel
Hamilton, there are the following words : " The winter is
the only seasoa in which we are sure the Highlanders
cannot escape us nor carry their wives, bairns, and cattle
to the mountains." And in another letter, written only
two days afterwards, he says, "It is the only time that
they cannot escape you, for human constitution cannot
endure to be long out of houses. This is the proper
season to maule them in the cold long nights. ^^ And in
January thereafter, he informed Sir Thomas Livingston
that the design was "to destroy entirely the country of
Lochaber, Locheill's lands, Keppoch's, Glengarry's, Appin,
and Glencoe. I assure you," he continues, " your power
shall be full enough, and I hope the soldiers will not
trouble the Government with prisoner s.^^

Locheill was more fortunate than others of his friends
and neighbours. According to Drummond, — " Major
Menzies, who, upon his arrival, had observed the whole

forces of thp. kino-rlnTn rparlv fn invn/lA fVia TTioclilnnrlfl aq

he wrote to General Buchan, foreseeing the unhappy con-

THE WIDOW OF OLENCOE.

219

sequences, not only begged that general to send expresses
to all parts with orders immediately to submit, but also
wrote to Sir Thomas Livingston, praying him to supplicate
the Council for a prorogation of the time, in regard that
he was so excessively fatigued, that he was obliged to stop
some days to repose a little ; and that though he should
send expresses, yet it wais impossible they could reach the
distant parts in such time as to allow the several persons
concerned the benefit of the indemnity within the spac^
limited ; besides, that some persons having put the High-
landers in a bad temper, he was confident to persuade
them to submit, if a further time were allowed. Sir
Thomas presented this letter to the Council on the 5th of
January ] 692, but they refused to give any answer, and
ordered him to transmit the same to Court."

The reply of William of Orange was a letter, counter-
signed by Dalrymple, in which, upon the recital that
" several of the chieftains and many of their clans have
not taken the benefit of our gracious indemnity," he gave
orders for a general massacre. " To that end, we have
given Sir Thomas Livingston orders to employ our troops
(which we have already conveniently posted) to cut oflF
these obstinate rebels hy all manner of hostility ; and
we do require you to give him your assistance and con-
currence in all other things that may conduce to that
service ; and because these rebels, to avoid our forces, may
draw themselves, their families, goods, or cattle, to lurk
or be concealed among their neighbours: therefore we
require and authorise you to emit a proclamation, to be
published at the market-crosses of these or the adjacent
shires where the rebels reside, dischargiug upon the iiigu-
est penalties the law allows, any reset, correspondence, Qr

220

LAVS OF TUB SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

mtercommuning with these rebels." This monstrous
mandate, which was in fact .the death warrant of many
thousand innocent people, no distinction being m ide of
age or sex, would, in all human probability, have been put
into execution, but for the remonstrance of one high-mind-
ed nobleman. Lord Carmarthen, afterwards Duke of
Leeds, accidentally became aware of the proposed massacre,
and personally remonstrated with the monarch against a
measure which he denounced as at once cruel and impoli-
tic. After much discussion, William, influenced rather
by an apprehension that so savage and sweeping an act
might prove fatal to his new authority, than by any com-
punction or impulse of humanity, agreed to recall the
general order, and to limit himself, in the first instance,
to a single deed of butchery, by way of testing the temper
of the nation. Some difficulty seems to have arisen in
the selection of the fittest victim. Both Keppoch and
Glencoo were named, but the personal rancour of Secre-
tary Dalrymple decided the doom of the latter. The
secretary wrote thus :-" Argyle tells me that Glencoe
hath not taken the oath, at which I rejoice. Tt is a great
work cf charity to be exact in rooting out that damnable
set. ' The final instructions regarding Olencoe, which
were issued on 16th January 1692, are as follows:—

"William R.- As for M'lan of Gleneoe and that tribe, if tliev
can be well d.stineruished from the rest of the Highlanders, it will
be proper lor public justice to extirpate that set of thieves.

W. R."
^ This letter is remarkable as being signed and counter-
signed by William alone, contrary to the usual practice
The secretary was no doubt desirous to screen him^Alf
fcom after responsibility, and was besides aware that the

THE WIDOW OF OLENCOE.

221

royal signature would insure a rigorous execution of the
sentence.

Macdonald, or, as he was more commonly designed,
M'lan of Glencoe, was the head of a considerable sept or
branch of the great Clan-Coila, and was lineally descended
from the ancient Lords of the Isles, and from the royal
family of Scotland — the common ancestor of the Macdon-
alds havi}^g espoused a daughter of Robert II. Ho was,
according to a contemporary testimony, " a person of
great integrity, honour, good nature, and courage; and
his loyalty to his old master. King James, was such, that
he continued in arms from Dundee's first appearing in
the Highlands, till the fatal treaty that brought on his
ruin." In common with the other chiefS; he had omitted
taking the benefit of the indemnity until he received the
sanction of King James : but the copy of that document
which was forwarded to him, unfortunately arrived too
late. The weather was so excessively stormy at the time
that there was no possibility of penetrating from Glencoe
to Inverara, the place where the sheriflF resided, before the
expiry of the stated period ; and Mian accordingly
adopted the only practicable mode of signifying his sub-
mission, by making his way with great difficulty to Fort-
William, then called Inverlochy, and tendering his signa-
ture to the military Governor there. That officer was not
authorised to receive it, but, at the earnest entreaty of the
chief, he gave him a certificate of his appearance and ten-
der ; and on New- Year's day, 1692, M'lan reached Inve-
rara, where he produced that paper as evidence of his
intentions, and prevailed upon the sherifi". Sir James Camp-
bell of Ardkinsrlass to administer the oaths remuired.
After that ceremony, which was immediately intimated to

222 ZAFS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

the Privy Council, had been performed, the unfortunate
gentleman returned home, in the full eonvietion that
he had thereby m.de peace with Government for himself
and for his clan. But his doom was already sealed.

A company of the Earl of Argyle's regiment had been
previously quartered at Glencoe. These men, thou^^h
. Campbells, and hereditarily obnoxious to the Macdonalds
Camerons, and other of the loyal clans, were yet country'
men, and were kindly and hospitably received. Their
captam, Robert Campbell of Glenlyon, was connected with
the family of Glencoe through the marriage of a niece
and was resident under the roof of the chik And yet
this was the very troop selected for the horrid service.

fcpecial instructions were sent to the m.jor of the rcd-
ment, one Duncanson, then quartered at Balhichulish-la
morose, brutal, and savage man-who accordingly wrote
to Campbell of Glenlyon in the following terms Z

«Sm v«„ u .. "Sallacholis, 12^e6. 1692.

M'DoX of nTn "'^/'''"' '° ''''' "P°» *b« -bels, the
Fou ar. t ^ '' ^""^ P"" ^" t'' tb« «^«rd under seventy

you are to have special care that the old fox and his sons doe unon

2::T' ""'' '^"^ '""'^^- ^^" -« '^ secure a, h avenues
oclLk in T ''"'" '^'" ^"" ^^^ ^^ P"* '- ^--tion att five
af r ' ". ?:,"!°--^J---Iy, and by that time, or very shortly
atter it, 111 strive to be att you with a stronger party. If I doe

th!r .K K^' ^^^\^^'^^ miscreants be cutt off root and branch See

xp ct '^ L't " 'rr^"'*^'^ withoutfeud or favour, else y Lt;

mTn fitt to . '^ "' "'* *'"' *° '^' ^'"^'^ government, nor I

^ou wi^i notT^r' T'"'"''"''^ ^° '^^ ^^"^'« ^«-i««- Expecting
you will not faill m the fulfilling hereof as you lore yourself I sub
scnbe these with my hand. « jourseii, i sub-

«^or their Majesty^s service, " ^''^^^'' ^^^anson.

"To Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon"

TRE WIDOW OF OLENCOE

223

This order was but too literally obeyed. At the

appointed hour, when the whole inhabitants of the glen

were asleep, the work of murder began. M'lan wps one

of the first who fell. Drummond's narrative fills up the

. remainder of the dreadful story.

*' They then served all within the family in the same
manner, without distinction of age or person. In a word
— for the horror of that execrable butchery must give
pain to the reader — they left none alive but a young
child, who being frightened with the noise of the guns,
and the dismal shrieks and cries of its dying parents,
whom they were a-murdering, got hold of Captain Camp-
bell's knees, and wrapt itself within his cloak ; by which,
chancing tj move compassion, the captain inclined to have
saved it, but one Drummond, an ofl&cer, arriving about the
break of day with more troops, commanded it to be shot
by a file of musqueteers. Nothing could be more shock-
ing and horrible than the prospect of these houses be-
strewed with mangled bodies of the de,ad, covered with
blood, and resounding with the groans of wretches in the
last agonies of life.

"Two sons of Glencoe's were the only persons that
escaped in that quarter of the country ; for, growing
jealous of some ill designs from the behaviour of the
soldiers, they stole from their beds a few minutes before
the tragedy began, and, chancing to pverhear two of them
discoursing plainly of the matter, they endeavoured to
have advertised their father ; but finding that impractica-
ble, they ran to the other end of the country and alarmed
the inhabitants. There was another accident that contri-
buted much to their safety; for the night was so exces-
sively stormy and tempestuous, that four hundred soldiers.

224 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

who were appointed to murder those people, were stopped
in their march from Inverlochy, and could not get up till
they had time to save themselves. To cover the deformity
of so dreadful a sight, the soldiers burned all the houses
to the ground, after having rifled them, carried away nine
hundred cows, two hundred horses, numberless herds
of sheep and goats, and everything else that belonged
to these miserable people. Lamentable was the case'' of
the women and children that escaped the butchery : the
mountains were covered with a deep snow, the rivers
impassable, storm and tempest filled the air, and added to
the horrors and darkness of the night, and there were no
houses to shelter them within many miles."*

Such was the awful massacre of Glencoe, an event
which has left an indelible and execrable stain upon the
memory of William of Orange. The records of Indian
warfare can hardly afford a parallel instance of atrocity;
and this deed, coupled with his deliberate treachery in the
Darien scheme, whereby Scotland was for a time absolutely
ruined, is sufficient to account for the little estima ion in
which the name of the ''great Whig deliverer" is still
regarded in the valleys of the North.

♦ Memoin of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill.

THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE.

Do not lift him from the bracken,

Leave him lying where he fell —
Better bier ye cannot fashion :

None beseems him half so well
As the bare and broken heather,

And the hard and trampled sod,
Whence his angry soul ascended

To the judgment-seat of God 1
Winding-sheet we cannot give him —

Seek no mantle for the dead,
Save the cold and spotless covering

Showered from heaven upon his head.
Leave his broadsword as we found it.

Bent and broken with the blow.
Which, before he died, avenged him

On the foremost of the foe.
Leave the blood upon his bosom —

Wash not off that sacred stain ;
Let it stiffen on the tartan,

L?rt his wounds UuCloscd fCmuili,

226 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Till the day when he shall show them
At the thrune of God on high,

When the murderer and the murdered
Meet before their Judge's eye I

II.

Nay, ye should not weep, my children !

Leave it to the faint and weak ;
Sobs are but a woman's weapon —

Tears befit a maiden's cheek.
Weep not, children of Macdonald I
Weep not thou, his orphan heir —
Not in shame, but stainless honour,
Lies thy slaughtered father there.
Weep not — but when years are over,
And thine arm is strong and sure,
And thy foot is swift and steady

On the mountain and the muir —
Let thy heart be hard as iron.

And thy wrath as fierce as fire.
Till the hour when vengeance cometh

For the race that slew thy sire 1
Till in deep and dark Glenlyon
Rise a louder shriek of woe.
Than at midnight, from their eyrie,

Scared the eagles of Glencoe :
Louder than the screams that mingled

With the howling of the blast.
When the murderer's steel was clashing,

And the fires were rising fast ;
When thy noble father bounded

To the rescue of his men.
And the slogan of our kindred

Pealed throughout the startled glen I

THE WIDOW OF QLENCOE.

227

When the herd of frantic women

Stumbled through the midnight snow,
"With their fathers' houses blazing,

And their dearest dead below 1
Oh, the horror of the tempest.

As the flashing drift was blown.
Crimsoned with the conflagration.

And the roofs went thundering down I
Oh, the prayers— tuo prayers and curses

That together winged their flight
From the maddened hearts of many

Through that long and woeful night!
Till the fires began to dwindle,

And the shots grew faint and few,
And we heard the foeman's challenge

Only in a far halloo:
Till the silence once more settled

O'er the gorges of the glen,
Broken only by the Cona

Plunging through its naked den.
Slowly from the mountain-summit

Was the drifting veil withdrawn,
And the ghastly valley glimmered

In the grey December dawn.
Better had the morning never

Dawned upon our dark despair !
Black amidst the common whiteness

Rose the spectral ruins there :
But the sight of these was nothing

More than wrings the wild-dove's breast,
When she searches for her offspring

Round the relics of her nest.

228 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

"♦

For m many a spot the tartan

Peered above the wintry heap,
Marking where a dead Macdonald

Lay within his frozen sleep.
Tremblingly we scooped the covering

From each kindred victim's head,
And the living lips were burning

On the cold ones of the dead.
And T left them with their dearest —

Dearest charge had every one —
Left the maiden with her lover,

Left the mother with her son.
I alone of all was mateless —

Far more wretched I than they,
For the snow would not discover

Where my lord and husband lay.
But I wandered up the valley,

Till I found him lying low.
With the gash upon his bosom

And the frown upon his brow —
Till I found him lying murdered,

Where he wooed me long ago I

III.

Woman's weakness shall not shame me—

Why should I have tears to shed ?
Could I rain them down like water,

O my hero I on thy head —
Could the cry of lamentation

Wake thee from thy silent sleep,
Could it set thy heart a-throbbing,

It were mine to wail and weep 1

THE WIDOW OF QLENCOE.

But I will not waste my sorrow,

Lest the Campbell women say
That the daughters of Clanranald

Are as weak and frail as they.
I had wept thee hadst thou fallen,

Like our fathers, on thy shield.
When a host of Engliph foemen

Camped upon a Scottish field—
I had mourned thee, hadi t thou perished

With the foremost of his name
When the valiant and the noble

Died around the dauntless Graeme |
But I will not wrong thee, husband 1

With my unavailing cries,
Whibt thy cold and mangled body

Stricken by the traitor lies ;
Whilst he counts the gold and glory

That this hideous night has won
And his heart is big with triumph

At the murder he has done.
Other eyes than mine shall glisten,
" Other hearts be rent in twain.
Ere the heathbells on thy hillock

Wither in the autumn rain
Then I'll seek thee where thou sleepest

And I'll veil my weary head.
Praying io: a place beside thee,

Dearer than my bridal bed :
And I'll give thee tears, my husband I

If the tears remain to me,
When the widows of the foeman '

Cry the coronach for thee 1

229

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

,i'

In consequence of a capitulation with Government, the

regular troops who had served under Lord Dundee were

^^^y^*^ ^Q France ; and, immediately upon their landing,

the officers and others had their rank confirmed according

to the tenor of the commissions and characters which they

bore in Scotland. They were distributed throughout the

diflFerent garrisons in the north of France, and, though

nominally in the service of King James, derived thSr

whole means of subsistence fpom the bounty of the French

monarch. So long as it appeared probable that another

descent was meditated, these gentlemen, who were almost

without exception men of considerable family, assented to

this arrangement ; but the destruction of the French fleet

under Admiral Tourville, off La Hogue, led to a material

change in their views. After that naval engagement it

became obvious that the cause of the fugitive king was in

the mean timp. f^psr^orafo .j«ri j-v,^ a^,«A^:,i, ^m _-•-!

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 231

less gallantry than honour, volunteered a sacrifice which
so far as I know, has hardly been equalled. '

The old and interesting pamphlet written by one of the
corps,* from which I have extracted most of the following
details, but which is seldom perused except by the anti-
quary, states that^'^ The Scottish officers considering
that, by the loss of the French fleet, Kin^ Jamea.'s^'estora-
tion would be retarded for some time, and that they were
burdensome to the King of France, being entertained in
garrisons on whole pay, without doing duty, when he had
almost all Europe in confederacy against him, therefore
humbly entreated King James to have them reduced into
a company of private sentinels, and chose officers amongst
themselves to command them ; assuring his Majesty that
they would serve in the meanest circumstances, and undergo
the greatest hardships and fatigues, that reason could
imagine or misfortunes inflict, until it pleased God to
restore him. King James commended their generosity
and loyalty, but disapproved of what they proposed, and
told them it was impossible that gentlemen, who had served
in so honourable posts as formerly they had enjoyed, and
lived in so great plenty and ease, could ever undergo the
fatigue and hardships of private sentinels' duty. Again,
that his own first command was a company of officers
whereof several died ; others, wearied with fatigue, drew
their discharges ; till at last it dwindled into nothino- and
lie got no reputation by the command j therefore he desired
them to insist no more on that project. The officers (not-
withstanding his Majesty's desire to the contrary) made
several interests at court, and harassed him so much, that

* An Account of Dundee' i Officers after they went to France, By an
officer of the Army. London: 1714.

232 LAFS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

at last' he condescended," and appointed those who were to
command them.

Shortly afterwards, the new corps was reviewed for the
first and last time by the unfortunate James in the gardens
of St Germains, and a- ^ » ars are said to have gushed
from his eyes at the sig . ,i so many brave men, reduced,
through their disinterested and persevering loyalty, to so
very humble a condition. "Gentlemen," said he, "my
own misforttines are not so nigh my heart as yours. It
grieves me beyond what I can express, to see so many
brave and worthy gentlemen, who had once the prospect
of being the chief ofiicers in my army, reduced to the
stations of private sentinels. Nothing but your loyalty,
and th't of a few of my subjects in Britain, who are
forced from their allegiance by the Prince of Orange, and
who, I know, will be ready on all occasions to serve me
and my distressed family, could make me willing to live.
The sense of what all of you have done and undergone for
your loyalty, hath made so deep an impression upon my
heart, that, if it ever please God to restore me, it is im-
possible I can be forgetful of your services and sufferings.
Neither can there be any posts in the armies of my domi-
nions but what you have just pretensions to. As for my
son, your Prince, he is of your own blood, a child capable
of any impression, and, as his education will be from you,
it is not supposable that he can forget your merits. At
your own desires you are now going a long march far
distant from me. Fear God and love one another. "Write
your wants particularly to me, and depend upon it always
to find me your parent and King." The scene bore a
strong resemblance to one which many years afterwards
occurred at Fontainebleau. The company listened to his

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

233

words with deep emotion, gathered round him, as if half
repentant of their own desire to go ; and so parted, for
ever on this earth, the dethroned monarch and his exiled
subjects.

The number of this company of officers was about one
hundred and twenty : their destination was Perpignan in
Roussillon, close upon the frontier of Spain, where they
were to join the army under the command of the Mareschal
de Noailles. Their power of endurance, though often
most severely tested in an unwholesome climate, seems to
have been no less remarkable than their gallantry, which
upon many occasions called forth the warm acknowledg-
ment of the French commanders. " Le gentilliomme^^
said one of the generals, in acknowledgment of their
readiness at a peculiarly critical moment, " est tov jours
gentilhomme, et se montre toujours tel dans le hesoin et
dans le danger'' — a eulogy as applicable to them as it
was in later days to La Tour d'Auvergne, styled the first
grenadier of France. At Perpignan they were joined
by two other Scottish companies, and the three seem to
have continued to serve together for several campaigns.

As a proof of the estimation in which they were held, I
shall merely extract a short account of the taking of
Rosas in Catalonia, before referring to the exploit which
forms the subject of the following ballad. " On the 27th
of May, the company of officers, and other Scottish com-
panies, were joined by two companies of Irish, to make up
a battalion in order to mount the trenches ; and the major
part of the officers listed themselves in the company of gren-
adiers, under the command of the brave Major Rutherford,
who, on his way to the trenches, in sight of Mareschal de
Noailles and his court, marched with his conjpany on the

l,:i

is:

234 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

side of the trench, which exposed him to the fire of a bas-
tion, where there were two culverins and several otlier
guns planted ; likewise to tlie fire of two curtins lined
with small-shot. Colonel Brown, following with the bat-
talion, was obliged, in honour, to march the same way
Major Rutherford had done ; the danger whereof the
Moreschal immediately perceiving, ordered one of his
fiides-dc-camp to command Rutherford to march under
cover of the trench, which he did ; and if he' had but
delayed six minutes, the grenadiers and battalion liad been
cut to pieces. Rutherford, with his grenadiers, marched
to a trench near the town, and the battalion to a trench on
the rear and flank of the grenadiers, who fired so inces-
santly on the besieged, that they thought (the breach
being practicable) they were going to make their attacks,
immediately beat a chamade, and were willing to give up
the town upon reasonable terms: but the Mareschal's
demands were so exorbitant that the Governor could not
figree to them. Then firing began on both sides to be
very hot ; and they in the town, seeing how the grenadiers
lay, killed eight of them. When the Governor surrender-
ed the town, he inquired of the Mareschal what country-
men these grenadiers were; and assured him it was on
their account he delivered up the town, because they fired
BO hotly that he believed they were resolved to attack the
breach. He answered, smiling, ' Ce sont mes en/ans'—
They are my children. Again; ' They are the King of
Great Britain's Scottish officers, who, to show their willing-
ness to share of his miseries, have reduced themselves
to the carrying of arms, and chosen to serve under my
command.' The next day, when the Mareschal rode along
the front of the camp, he halted at the company of the

t /

THE ISLAND OF TEE SCOTS.

235

officers' piquet, and they all surrounded him. Then, with
his hat in his hand, ho thanked them for their good ser-
vices in the trenches, and freely acknowledged it was their
conduct and courage which compelled the Governor to
give up the town ; and assured them he would acquaint
his master with the same, which he did ; for when his son
arrived with the news at Versailles, the King, having read
the letter, immediately took coach to St Germains, and
when he hud shown King Jnmes the letter, he thanked
him for the services his subjects had done in taking Bosas
in Catalonia; who, with ccncern, replied, they were the
stock of his British officers, and that he was sorry he could
not make better provision for them."

And a miserable provision it was ! They were gra-
dually compelled to part with every remnant of the
property which they hud secured from the ruins of their
fortunes ; so that when they arrived, after various adven-
tures, at Scelestadt, in Alsace, they were literally without
the common means of subsistence. Famine and the sword
had by this time thinned their ranks, but had not dimin-
ished their spirit, as the following narrative of their last
exploit will show : — • ^

"In December 1697, General Stirk, who commanded
for the Germans, appeared with 1(5,000 men on the othor
side of the Ehine, which obliged the Marquis de Sell to
draw out all the garrisons in Alsace, who made up about
4000 men ; and he encamped on the other side of the
Bhine, over against General Stirk, to prevent his passing
the Rhine and carrying a bridge over into an island in the
middle of it, which the French foresaw would be of great
preiudice to them. For thfi f-nf-mv's onns T^la^c^ r^n fV...*
island, would extremely gall their camp, which they could

236 LAYS OF TJIE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS

not hinder for tho deepness of the water, and their want-
ing of boats— for which, the Marquis quicRly sent; but
arriving too late, the Gornrins had carried u bridg*^ over
into the island, where thoy had posted above five hundred
men, who, by order of their engineers, intrenched them-
selves; which the company of officers perceiving, who
always grasped after honour, and scorned all thoughts of
danger, resolved to wade the river, and attack the Germans
in the island ; and for that effect, desired Captain John
Foster, who then comm.-inded them, to beg of the Marquis
that they might have liberty to attack t!ie Germans in the
island ; who told Captain Foster, when the boats came up,
they should be the first that Jittacked. Foster courteous-
ly thanked the Marquis, and told him they would wade
into the island, who shrunk up his shoulders, prayed God
to bless them, and desired them to do what they ple;ised."
Whereupon the officers, with the other two Scottish com-
panies, made themselves ready ; and, having secured their
arms round their necks, waded into" the river hand-in-hand,
''according to the Highland fashion," with the water as
high as their brtc^sts ; and, having crossed the heavy stream,
fell upon the Germans in their intrenchment. These were
presently thrown into confusion, and retreated, breaking
down their own bridges, whilst many of them were
drown, i. This movement, hciving been made in the dusk
of the evening, partook of the character of a surprise ;
but it appears to me a very remarkable one, as having been
effected under such circumstances, in the dead of winter,
and in the face of an enemy who possessed the advantages
both of position and of numerical superiority. The
author of the narrative adds:— "When the Marquis de
Seii heard tho firing, and understood that the Germans

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

237

were bent out of the iwland, he nifidc the ainjn of the cross
on his face and breast, and declared publicly that it was
the bravest action that ever he saw, and that his army
had no honour by it. As soon as the boats came, the
Marquis sent into the island to acquaint the officers that
he would send them both troops and provisions, who thank-
ed his Excellency, and desi- A he should be informed that
they wanted no troops, and could not spare time to make
use of provisions, and only desired spades, shovels, and
pickaxes, wherewith they might intrench themselves —
which were immediately sent to them. The next morning,
the Marquis came into the- island, and kindly embraced
every officer, and thanked them for the good service they
had done his m-ister, assuring them he would write a
true account of their honour and bravery to the Court of
France, which, at the reading his letters, immediately
went to St Germains, and thanked King James for the
services his subjects had done on the Rhine."

The company kept possession of the island for nearly
six weeks, notwithstanding repeated a'^tempts on the part
of the Germans to surprise and dislodge them ; but all
these having been defeated by the extreme watchfulness of
the Scots, General Stirk at length drew off his army, and
retreated. " In consequence of this action," says the
Chronicler, " that island is called at present Isle d'Ecosse,
and will in likelihood bear that name until the general
coiiflagration."

Two years afterwards, a treaty of peace was concluded ;
and this gallant company of soldiers, worthy of a better
fate, was broken up and dispersed. At the time when the
narrative, from which i have quoted so freely, was eoia-
piled, not more chan sixteen of Dundee's veterans were

238

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISJT UAVALTERS.

was

alive. The author concludes thus:— "And thr
dissolved one of the be^st conipanies that ever inarehcd
under command ! Gentlemen, who, in the mid.t of ali
their pressures and obscurity, never forgot they were
gent men; and whom the sweets of a brave, a just, und
honuurable conscience rendered perhaps more happy under
those suffenno-s than the most prosperous and triumphant
in iniquity, since our minds st;.mp our happiness."

Some years ap;o, while visitinjr the ancient Scottish
convent at Ratisbone, my attention was drawn to the
monumental inscriptions on the walls of the dormitory
n;any of which bear reference to .j.^entlomen of family and
distinction, whose political principles had involved them
in the trcnibles of 1688, 1715, and 1745. Whether the
cloister which now holds their dust had afforded them a
shelter m the latter years of their misfortunes, I know
not ; but, for one that is so commemorated, hundreds of
the exiles must have passed away in obscurity, buried in
the field on which they fell, or carried from the damp
vaults of the military hospital to the trench, without any
token of remembrance, or any other wish beyond that
which the minstrels have ascribed to one of the greatest of
our olden heroes : —

" Oh I bury me by the bracken bush,

Beneath the blooming brier-
Let never living mortal ken

That a kindly Scot lies here I "

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

The Rhine ia running deep and red,

The island lies before —
" Now is there one of all the host

Will dare to venture o'er ?
For not alone the river's sweep

Might make a brave man quail ;
The foe are on the. further side,

Their shot comes fast as hail. *^

God help us, if the middle isle

We may not hope to win I
Now is there any of the host

Will dare to venture in ? "

II.

" The ford is deep, the banks are steep,

The island-shore lies wide :
Nor man nor horse could stem its force,

Or reach the further side.
See there I amidst the willow-boughs

The serried bayonets gleam ;
They've flung their bridge — they've won the isle;

The foe have crossed the stream 1

240 LAYS OF TEE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Their volley flashes sharp and strong—

By all the Saints I I trow
There never yet was soldier bom

Gould force that passage now !"

in.

So spoke the bold French Mareschal

"With him who led the van,
Whilst rough and red before their view

The turbid river ran.

Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross

The wild and swollen Rhine,
t '

And thundering on the other bank

Far stretched the German line.
Hard by there stood a swarthy man

Was leaning on his sword,
And a-saddened smile lit up his face

As he heard the Captain's word.
" I've seen a wilder stream ere now

Than that which rushes there ;
I've stemmed a heavier torrent yet

And never thought to dare.
If German steel be sharp and keen,

Is ours not strong and true ?
There may be danger in the deed,

But there is honour too."

IV.

The old lord in his saddle turned,

And hastily he said—
" Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart

Awakened from the dead ?

THE ISLM^D OF THE SCOTS.

Thou art the leader of the Scota—

Now well and sure I know,
That gentle blood in dangerous hour

Ne'er yet ran cold nor slow,
And I have seen ye in the fight

Do all tha* mortal may :
If honour is the boon ye seek,

It may be won this day —
The prize is in the middle isle,

There lies the adventurous way.
And armies twain are on the plain.

The daring deed to see —
Now ask thy gallant company

If they will follow thee I "

Right gladsome looked the Captain then^

And nothing did he say,
But he turned him to his little band —

Oh few, I ween, were they 1
The relics of the bravest force

That ever fought in fray.
No one of all that company

But bore a gentle name, '
Not one whose fathers had not stood

In Scotland's fields of fame.
All they had marched with great Dundee

To where he fought and fell.
And in the deadly battle-strife

Had venged their leader well :
And they had bent the knee to earth

When every eye was dim,
As o'er their hero's buried corpse

They sang the funeral hymn ;

241

242 LAYS OF TUB SCOTTISH CAVALIFRS.

And thev had trod the Pass once more.

And stooped on either side
To pluclc the heather from the spot

Where je had dropped and died ;
And they had bound it next their hearts

And ta'en a last farewell
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky

Where Scotland's glory fell.
Then went they forth to foreign lands

Like bent and broken men,
Who leave their dearest hope behind.

And may not turn again.
{

VI.

" The stream," he said, "is broad and deep,

And stubborn is the foe-
Yon island-strength is guarded well-
Say, brothers, will ye go ?
From home and kin for many a year

Our steps have wandered wide,
And never may our bones be laid

Our fathers' graves beside.
No children have we to lament,

No wives to wail our fall ;
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand

Have reft our hearths of all.
But we have hearts, and we have arms

As strong to will and dare
As when our ancient banners flew

Within the northern air.
Come, brothers 1 let me name a spell

Shfl.ll rniiao trrtnw an■.■,^„ ;_

»"■ j'^'-ti avtiiB again,

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

And aend the old blood bounding free
Through pulse, and heart, and vein.

Call back the days of bygone years-
Be young and strong once more ;

Think yonder stream, so stark and red,
Is one we've crossed before.

Rise, hill and glen ! rise, crag and wood!
Rise up on either hand —

Again upon the Garry's banks,
On Scottish soil we stand 1

Again I see the tartans wave.
Again the trumpets ring ;

Again I hear our leader's call —
' Upon them for the King 1 ♦

Stayed we behind that glorious day
For roaring flood or linn ?

The soul of Grasme is with us still-
Now, brothers 1 will ye in ? "

243

VII.

No stay— no pause. With one accord

They grasped each other's hand,
Then plunged into the angry flood.

That bold and dauntless band.
High flew the spray above their heads,

Yet onward still they bore,
Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell,

And shot, and cannon-roar —
" Now, by the Holy Cross I 1 swear.

Since earth and sea began.
Was never such a daring deed

Essayed by mortal man 1 "
Q

pi r .ii *w»» t. ii mw i>wt i ' n» »ii» iWW >i mM) w «'

244 lAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

VIII.

Thick blew the smoke across the stream,
' And faster flashed the flame :

The water plashed in hissing jets

As ball and bullet came.
Yet onwards pushed the Cavaliers

All stern and undismayed,
With thousand armed foes before,

And none behind to aid.
Once, as they neared the middle stream,
\ So strong the torrent swept,
That scarce that long and living wall

Their dangerous footing kept.
Then rose a warning cry behind,

A joyous shout before :
" The current's strong— the way is long —

They'll never reach the shore !
See, see 1 they stagger in the midst.

They waver in their line I
Fire on the madmen ! break their ranks.

And whelm them in the Rhine I "

IX.

Have you seen the tall trees swaying

When the blast is sounding shrill,
And the whirlwind reels in fury

Down the gorges of the hill ?
How they toss their mighty branches

Struggling with the tempest's shock;
How they keep their place of vantage,

Cleaving firmly to the rock?

THE ISLAND OF TffE SCOTS.

^245

Even so the Scottish warriors

Held their own against the river ;
Though the water flashed around them,

Not an eye was seen to quiver ;
Though the shot flew sharp and deadlj,

Not a man relaxed his hold :
For their hearts were big and thrilling

With the mighty thoughts of old.
One word was spoke among them,

And through the ranks it spread —
"Remember our dead Claverhouse 1 "

Was all the Captain said.
Then, sternly bending forward,

They wrestled on awhile.
Until they cleared the heavy stream.
Then rushed towards the isle.

The German heart is stout and true,

The German arm is strong ;
The German foot goes seldom back

Where arm^d foemen throng.
But never had they faced in field

So stern a charge before,
And never had they felt the sweep

Of Scotland's broad claymore.
Not fiercer pours the avalanche

Adown the steep 'ncline,
That rises o'er the parent-springs

Of rough and rapid Rhine —
Scame h\. ifjer shnots thu KnU ffnn% Ti»....«~

Than came the Scottish band

'ff^^fS»;l;liery i1^ J ta ^0 Ht K^%

t li

246 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Right up against the guarded trench,
And o'er it sword in hand.

In vain their leaders forward press —
They meet the deadly brand 1

lonely island of the Rhine —

"Where seed was never sown,
What harvest lay upon thy sands,

By those strong reapers thrown ?
What saw the winter moon that night,
* As, struggling through the rain.
She poured a wan and fitful light

On marsh, and stream, and plain?
A dreary spot with corpses strewn.

And bayonets glistening round ;
A broken bridge, a stranded boat,

A bare and battered mound ;
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile,

That sent its quivering glare
To tell the leaders of the host

The conquering Scots were there !

XII.

And did they twine the la;irel-wreath

For those who fought so well ?
And did they honour those who lived,

And weep for those who fell ?
What meed of thanks was given to them

Let aged annals tell.
Why should they bring the laurel-wreath—

Why crown the cup with wine?

THE ISLAND OF TBE SCOTS.

It was not Frenchmen's blood that flowed

So freely on the Rhine—
A stranger band of beggared men "

Had done the venturous deed :
The glory was to France alone,

The danger was their meed.
And what cared they for idle thanks

From foreign prince and peer ?
What virtue had such honeyed words

The exiled heart to cheer ?
What mattered it that men should vaunt

And loud. and fondly swear,
That higher feat of chivalry

Was never wrought elsewhere?
They bore within their breasts the grief

That fame can never heal —
The deep, unutterable woe

Which none save exiles feel.
Their hearts were yearning for the land

They ne'er might see again—
For Scotland's high and heathered hills,

For mountain, loch, and glen—
For those who haply lay at rest

Beyond the distant sea,
Beneath the green and daisied turf
Where they would gladly be I

247

XIII.

Long years went by. The lonely isle
In Rhine's impetuous flood

Has ta'en another name from those
Who bought it with their blood :

248 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

And, though the legend does not live —

For legends lightly die—
The peasant, as he sees the stream

In winter rolling by,
And foaming o'er its channel bed

Between him and the spot
Won by the warriors of the sword,
Still calls that deep and dangerous ford

The Passage of the Soot.

CHAKLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES.

Though the sceptre had departed from the ITouse of
Stuart, it was reserved fbr one of its last descendants to
prove to the world, by his personal gallantry and noble
spirit of enterprise, that he at least had not degenerated
from his royal line of ancestors. The daring effort of
Charles Edward to recover the crown of these kingdoms
for his father, is to us the most remarkable incident of the
last century. It was honourable alike to the Prince and
to those who espoused his cause ; and even in a political
point of view, the outbreak ought not to be deplored,
since its failure put an end for ever to the dynastlcil
struggle which, for more than half a century, had agitated
the whole of Britain ; since it established the rule of law
and of social order throughout the mountainous districts
of Scotland, atid blended Celt and Saxon into one prosper-
ous and united people. It was better that the antiquated
eystem of clanship should have expired in a blaze of glory,
than gradually dwindled into contempt ; better that the

H I

250 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. -^ .

pitriarchal rule should nt once have been extinguished by
the dire catastrophe of CuJlodoD, than that it sJiould have
hngered on, the shadow of an old tradition. There is
nothing now to prevent us from dwelling with pride and
admiration on the matchless devotion displayed by the
Highlanders, in 1745, in behalf of the heir of him whom
tliey acknowledged as their lawful king. No feeling can
arise to repress the interest and the sympathy which is
exnted by the perusal of the tale narrating the sufferings
of the princely wanderer. That unbought loyalty and
allegiance of the heart, which would not depart from its
constancy until the tomb of the Vatican had closed upon
the last of the Stuart Hue, has long since been transferred
to the constitutional sovereign of these realms; and the
enthusiastic welcome which has so often greeted the return
of Queen Victoria to her Highland home, owes its origin
to a deeper feeling than that dull respect which modern
liberalism asserts to be the only tribute due to the first
m igistrate of the land.

The campaign of 1745 yields in romantic interest to
none which is written in history. A you.ig and inexperi-
enced prince, whose person was utterly unknown to any of
his adherents, landed on the west coast of Scotland, not at
the head of a foreign force, not mummented with supplies
and arms, but accompanied by a mere handful of followers,
and ignorant of the language of the people amongst whom
he was hazarding his person. His presence in Scotland had
not been urged by the chiefs of the clans, most of whom
were deeply averse to embarking in an enterprise which
must^ involve them in a war with so powerful an antagonist
as England, and which, if unsuccessful, could only
t-rminate in the utter ruin of their fortunes. This was

•A

CHARLES ED WARD A T VERSAILLES. 251

not a cause in which the whole of Scotland was concerned.
Although it was well known that many ki iding families in
the Lowlands entertained Jacobite opinions, and although
a large proportion of the common people had not yet
become reconciled to, or satisfied of the advantages of the
Union, by which they considered themselves dishonoured
and betrayed, it was hardly to be expected that, without
some fair guarantee for success, the bulk of the Scottish
nation would actively bestir themselves on the side of the
exiled family. Besides this, even amongst the Highlanders
there was not unanimity of opinion. The three northern
clans of Sutherland, Mackay, and Monro, were known to
be stanch supporters of the Government. It was doubtful
what part might be taken in the struijgle by those of
Mackenzie and Ross. The chiefs of Skye, who could have
brought a hirge force of armed men into the field, had de-
clined participating in the attempt. The adhesion of Lord
Lovat, upon which the co-operation of the Erasers might
depend, could not be calculated on with cert;dnty ; and
nothing but hostility could be expected from the powerful
sept of the Campbells. Under such circumstances, it is
little wonder if Cameron of Locheill, the most sagacious
of all the chieftains who favoured the Stuart cause, was
struck with consternation and alarm at the news of the
Prince's landing, or that he attempted to persuade him
from undertaking an adventure so seemingly hopeless. Mr
Robert Chambers, in his admirable history of that period,
does not in the least exaggerate the importance of the
interview on the result of which the prosecution of the
war depended. '' On arriving at Borrodale, Locheill had

J- \ic:w >'\»vxx fiiv X iitice, m wiiiuii ine proDitui-

lities of the enterprise were anxiously debated. Charles

I 'ii

252 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

used every argument to excite the loyalty of Locheill, and
the chief exerted all his eloquence to persuade the Prince
to withdraw till a better opportunity. Charles represented
the present as the best possible opportunity, seeing that
the French general kept the British army completely
engaged abroad, while at home there were no troops but
one or two newly-raised regiments. Ho expressed his
confidence that a small body of Highlanders would be
sufficient to gain a victory over all the force that could
now be brought against him ; and he was equally sure that
such an advantage was all that was required to make his
friends at home declare in his favour, and cause those
abroad to send him assistance. All he wanted was that
the Highlanders would begin the war. Lochcill still
resisted, entreating Charles to be more temperate, and
consent to remain concealed where he was, till his friends
should meet together and concert what was best to be done.
Chj^rles, whose mind was wound up to the utmost pitch of
impatience, paid no regard to this proposal, but answered
that he was determined to put all to the hazard. ' In a
few days,' said he, ' with the few friends I have, I will
raise the royal standard, and proclaim to the people of
Britain that Charles Stuart is come over to claim the
crown of his ancestors— to win it, or to perish in the
attempt 1 Locheill— who, my father has often told me,
was our firmest friend— may stay at home, and learn from
the newspapers the fate of his Prince!' 'No!' said
Locheill, stung by so poignant a reproach, and hurried
away by the enthusiasm of the moment ; ' I will share the
fate of my Prince, and so shall every man over whom
nature or fortune has jriven me anv nnw^r.' Rnoh w.ist fhe
juncture upon which depended the citil war of 1745 ; for

, CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLEa. 253

It is a point agreed, says Mr Home, who narrates this
conversation, that if Locheili had persisted in his refusal
to take arms, no other chief would have joined the standard
ftnd the spark of rebollion must have been instantly
extinguished." Not more than twelve hundred men were
assembled in Glenfinnan on the day when the standard was
unfurled by the Marquis of Tullibardine; and at the head
of this mero handful of followers, Charles Edward com-
menced the stupendous enterprise of reconquering the
dominions of his fathers.

With a force which, at the battle of Preston, did
not double the above numbers, the Prince descended
upon the Lowlands, having baffled the attempts of
General Cope to intercept his march— occi;pied the city
Of Perth, and the town of Dundee, a-ud finally, after
a faint show of resistance on the part of the burghers,
took possession of the ancient capital of Scotland^ and
once more established a court in the halls of Holy-
rood. His youth, his gallantry, and the grace and
beauty of his person, added to a most winning and
affable address, acquired for him the sympathy of many
Who, from political motives, abstained from becoming his
adherents. Possibly certain feelings of nationality, which
no deliberate views of civil or religious policy could alto-
gether extirpate, led such men to regard, with a sensation
akin to pride, the spectacle of a prince descended from the
long line of Scottish kings, again occupying his ances-
tral seat, and restoring to their country, which had
been utterly neglected by the new dynasty, a portion
of its former state. No doubt a sense )f pity for the
probable fate of one so young and chivalrous was often
present to their minds, for they had thorough confidence

lEl

I ii

if >

!» I

254

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

m the intrepidity of the regular troops, and in the
capacity of their commander; and they never for a
moment supposed that these could be successfully encoun-
tered by a raw levy of undisciplined Highlanders, ill
armed and worse equipped, and without the support of any
artillery. "^

The issue of the battle of Prestonpans struck Edin-
burgh with amazement. In point of numbers the two
armies were nearly equal, but in everything else, save
personal valour, the royal troops had the advantage.
And yet, m four minufes—f or the battle is said not
to have lasted longer-the Highlanders having made
only one terrific and impetuous charge-the rout of the
regulars was general. The infantry was broken and
cut to pieces; the dragoons, who behaved shamefully on
the occasion, turned bridle and fled, without having once
crossed swords with the enemy. Mr Chambers thus ter-
minates his account of the action : '' The general result
of the battle of Preston may be stated as having been the
total overthrow and almost entire destruction of the royal
army. Most of the infantry, falling upon the park walls
of Preston, were there huddled together without the power
of resistance into a confused drove, and had either to
surrender or be cut to pieces. Many, in vainly attempt-
ing to climb over the walls, fell an easy prey to the
ruthless claymore. Nearly 400, it is said, were thus
slam, 700 taken, while only about 170 in all succeeded
hn efFecting their escape.

" The dragoons, with worse conduct, were much more
fortunate. In falling back, they had the good luck to

nnd outlets from thpir *•r>c^v^.^"^5^.c. ~™v:-.- i .i ,

"^'^ ^v>=pcv,Live puHitiuus oy tne roads

which ran along the various extremities of the park

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 255

wall, and they thus got clear through the village with
little slaughter; after which, as the Highlanders had
no horse to pursue them, they were safe. Several officers
among whom were Fowkes and Lascellos, escaped to
Cockenzie and along Seton Sands, in a direction con-
trary to the general flight.

" The unfortunate Cope had attempted, at the first
break of Gardiner's dragoons, to stop and rally them,
but was borne headlong with the confused bands, through
the narrow road to the south of the enclosures, not-
withstanding all his efforts to the contrary. On getting
beyond the village, where he was joined by the retreat^
mg bands of the other regiment, he made one anxious
effor;, with the Earls of Loudon and Home, to form
and bring them back to charge the enemy, now disor-
dered by the pursuit; but in vain. They fled on
ducking their heads along their horses' necks to escap^
the bullets which the pursuers occasionally sent after them.
By using great exertions, and holding pistols to the heads
of the troopers, Sir John and a few of his officers induced
a small number of them to halt in a field near St. Olement's
Wells, about two miles from the battle ground. But,
after a momentary delay, the accidental firing of a
pistol renewed the panic, and they rode off once more in
great disorder. Sir John Cope, with a portion of them,
reached Channelkirk at an early hour in the fore-
noon, and there halted to breakfast, and to write a brief
note to one of the state-officers, relating the fate of
the day. He then resumed his flight, and reached Cold-
stream that night. Next morning he proceeded to Berwick,
whos^ fortifications seemed competent to give the security
he required. He everywhere brought the first tidiii-s
of his own defeat." °

[ I :l]fi

256 I^^TS OF THE SCOTTISH PAVALJERS.

This victory operated very much in favour of Prince
Charles. It secured him, for a season, the undisputed
possession of Scotland, and enabled numerous adherents
from all parts of the country to raise such forces as
they could command, and to repair to his banner.
His popularity in Edinburgh daily increased, as the
qualities of his person and mind became known ; and
such testimony as the following, with respect to hia
estimation by the fair sex and the devotion they exhibited
in his cause, is not overcharged : '^ His afikbility and
great personal grace wrought him high favour with the
ladies, who, as we learn from the letters of President
Forbes, became generally so zealous in his cause as to
have some serious effect in inducing their admirers to
declare for the Prince. There was, we know for certain,
a Miss Lumsden, who plainly told her lover, a young
artist, named Robert Strange, that he might think no more
of her unless he should immediately join Prince Charles,
and thus actually prevailed upon him to take up arms. It
may be added that he survived the enterprise, escaped
with great difficulty, and married the lady. He was
afterwards the best line-engraver of his time, and received
the honour of knighthood from George III. White
ribbons and breastknots became at this time conspicuous
articles of female attire in private assemblies. The ladies
also showed considerable zeal in contributing plate and
other articles for the use of the Chevalier at the T)alace,
and in raising pecuniary subsidies for him. Many a
posset-dish and snuff-box, many a treasured necklace
and^repeater, many a jewel which had adorned its suc-
cessive generations of family beauties, was at this time
sold or laid in pledge, to raise a little money for the
service of Prince Charlie.

CHARLES JEDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 257

As to the motives and intended policy of this remark-
able and unfortunate young man, it may be interesting
to quote the terms of the proclamation which he issued
on the 10th October 1745, before commencing his march
into England. Let his history be impartially read-^
his character, as spoken to by those who knew him
best, fairly noted— and I think there cannot be a doubt
that, had he succeeded in his daring attempt, he would
have been true to the letter of his word, and fulfilled
a pledge which Britain never more required than at
the period when that document was penned.

" Do not the pulpits and congregations of the clergy,
as well as your weekly papers, ring with the dreadful
threats of popery, slavery, tyranny, and arbitrary power,
which are now ready to be imposed upon you by the
formidable powers of France and Spain ? Is not my
royal father represented as a bloodthirsty tyrant, breath-
ing out nothing but destruction to all who will not
immediately embrace an odious religion? Or have I
myself been better used ? But listen only to the naked
truth.

"I, with my own money, hired a small vessel. Ill-
supplied with money, arms, or friends, I arrived in
Scotland, attended by seven persons. I publish the
King my father's declaration, and proclaim his title,
with pardon in one hand, and in the other liberty of
conscience, and the most solemn promises to grant
whatever a free Parliament shall propose for the happi-
ness of the people. I have, I confess, the greatest reason
to adore the goodness of Almighty God, who has in so
■atjiu a manner protected me and my small army
h the many dangers to which we were at first

rcitn

■

258 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALlBIiS.

exposed, and w!io has led mo in the way to victory,
and to the capital of this ancient kingdom, amidst the
acclamations of the King my Father's subjects. Wliy,
then, is so much pains tiken to spirit up the minds of
the people against. this my undertaking?

" The reason is obvious ; it is, lc;st the real sense of
the nation's present sufferings should blot out the
remembrance of past misfortunes, and of the outcries
formerly raised against the royal family. Whatever
miscarriages might have given occasion to them, they
have been ,more than atoned for since ; and the nation
has now an opportunity of being secured against the
like in future.

" That our family has suifered exile during these
fifty-seven years, everybody knows. Has the nation,
during that period of time, been the more happy and
flourishing for it ? Have you found reason to love and
cherish your governors as the fathers of the people of
Great Britain and Ireland ? Has a family, upon whom
a faction unlawfully bestowed the diadem of a |^ghtful
prince, retained a dj|e sense of so* great a trust and
favour? Have you found more liumanity and condes-
cension in those who were not born to a crown, than
in my royal forefathers ? Have their ears been open to
the cries of the people ? Have they or do they consider
only the interests of these nations? Have you reaped
any other benefit from them than an immense load of
debt? If I am answered in the afiirmative, why has
their government been so often railed at in all jour
public assemblies? Why has the nation been so long

or rcuFcss aiiuinst tuc ribiiHc of I ar-

-•^ ••'& '-'««' '

liament«, upon account of their long duration, the multi-

lUlt'l-

CHARLE8 EDWARD AT VERSAILLES, 269

tude of placemen, which occasions their venality, the
introduction of penul laws, and, in general, against the
miserable situation of the kingdom at home and abroad ?
All these, and many more inconveniences, must now be
removed, unless the people of Great Britain be already so
far corrupted that they will not accept of freedom when
oflfered to them, seeing the King, on his restoration, will
refuse nothing that a free Parliament can ask for the secu-
rity of the religion, laws, and liberty of his people.

'' It is now time to conclude ; and I shall do it with
this reflection : Civil wars are ever attended with rancour
and ill-will, which party-rnge never fails to produce in the
minds of those whom diflferent interests, principles, or
views, set in opposition to one another. I, therefore, earn-
estly require it of my friends to give as little loose as
possible to such passions : this will prove the most effectual
means to prevent the same in the enemies of my royal
cause. And this my declaration will vindicate to all pos-
terity the nobleness of my undertaking and the generosity
of my intentions."

There was much truth in the open charges preferred in
this declaration against the existing Government. The
sovereigns of the House of Hanover had always shown a
marked predilection for their Continental possessions, and
had proportionally neglected the affairs of Britain. Under
Walpole's administration, the Imperial Parliament had
degenerated from an independent assembly to a junta of
placemen, and the most flagitious system of bribery was
openly practised and avowed. It was not without reason
that Charles contrasted the state of the nation then with
its position when under the rule of the legitimate family
and had there not beeu a strong, though, I think unrea-

260 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

sonable suspicion in the minds of many, that his success
would be the prelude to a vigorous attack upon the estab-
lished religions of the country, and that he would be
inclined to follow out in this respect the fatal policy of his
grandfather, Charles would in all probability have received
a more active and general support than was accorded to
him. But the zeal with which the Episcopalian party in
Scotland espoused his cause, naturally gave rise to the idea
that the attempt of the Prince was of evil omen to Pres-
bytery ; and the settlement of the Church upon its present
footing was yet so recent, that the sores of the old feud
W(ire still festering and green. The Established clergy,
therefore, were, nearly to a man, opposed to his preten-
sions ; and one minister of Edinburgh, at the time when
the Highland host was in possession of the city, had the
courage to conclude his prayer nearly in the following
terms — " Bless the king ; Thou knows what king I mean
— ^may his crown long sit easy on his head. And as to
this young man who has come among us to seek an earthly
crown, we beseech Thee in mercy to take him to Thyself
and give him a crown of glory ! " At the same time it is
very curious to observe, that the most violent sect of Pres-
byterians, who might be considered as the representatives
of the extreme Cameronian principle, and who had early
seceded from the Church, and bitterly opposed the union
of the kingdoms, were not indisposed, on certain terms, to
coalesce with the Jacobites. It is hardly possible to
understand the motives which actuated these men, who
appear to have regarded each successive Government as
equ illy obnoxious. Some writers go the length of aver-
ring that, in 1688, a negoti -ion was opened by one section
of the Coveiiantcra with Lord .Diiudue, with the object of

3 success
he estub-
ould be
ay of his
received
orded to
party in
the idea
to Pros-
3 present
old feud
i clergy,
i preten-
aae when
had the
bllowing
: I mean
id as to
1 earthly
Thyself
ime it is
of Pres-
jntatives
ad early
e union
erms, to
sible to
Bn, who
tnent as
of aver-
section
bject of

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 261

resistance to the usurpation of William of Orange, and
that the project was frustrated only by the death of that
heroic nobleman. Sir Walter Scott— a great authority
— «eems to have been convinced that such was the case ;
but in the absence of direct proof, I can hardly credit it.
It is perfectly well known that a conspiracy was formed by
a certain section of the Cameronian party to assassinate
Lords Dundee and Dunfermline whilst in attendance at
the meeting of Estates ; and although the recognition of
William as king might not have been palatable to others
who held the same opinions, it would be a strange thing
if they had so suddenly resolved to assist Dundee in his
efforts for the exiled family. But the political changes in
Scotland, more especially the Union, seem to have inspired
some of these men with a spirit of disaflfection to the
Government ; for, according to Mr Chambers, the most
rigid sect of Presbyterians had, since the Revolution,
expressed a strong desire to coalesce with the Jacobites,
with the hope, in case the house of Stuart were restored,
to obtain what they called a covenanted King. Of this
sect one thousand had assembled in Dumfriesshire at the
first intelligence of the insurrection, bearing arms and
colours, and supposed to contemplate a junction with the
Chevalier. But these religionists were now almost as
violently distinct from the Established Church of Scot-
land as ever they had been from those of England and
Rome, and had long ceased to play a prominent part
in the national disputes. The Established clergy, and the
greater part of their congregations, were averse to Charles,
upon considerations perfectly moderate, at the same time
not easy to be shaken.

262 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH VAVALIER8.

On commencing his march into England, Charles found
himself at the head of an army of between five thousand
and six thousand men, which force was considered strong
enough, with the augmentations it might receive on the
way, to effect the occupation of London. Had the Eng-
lish Jacobites performed their part with the same zeal as
the Scots, it is more than probable that the attempt would
have been crowned with success. As it was, the Prince
succeeded in reducing the strong fortified town of Carlisle,
and in marching without opposition through the heart of
England, as fur as Perby, within one hundred miles of the
metropolis. But here his better genius deserted him*
Discord had crept into his counsels ; for some of the chiefs
became seriously alarmed at finding that the gentry of
England, so far from preparing to join the expedition,
preferred remaining at home, inactive spectators of the
contest. Except at Manchester, they had received few or
no recruits. No tidings had reached them from Wales —
a country supposed to be devoted to the cause of King
James, whilst it was well known that a large force was
already in arms to oppose the clans. Mr Chambers gives
us the following details : — " At a council of war held on
the morning of the 5th December, Lord George Murray
and the other members gave it as their unanimous opinion
that the army ougVi to return to Scotland. Lord George
pointed out that they were about to be environed by three
armies, amounting collectively to about thirty thousand
men, while their own forces were not above five thousand,
if so many. Supposing an unsuccessful engagement with
any of these armies, it could not be expected that one man
would escape, for the militia would beset every road. The
Prince, if not slain in the battle, must fall into the enemy's

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 263

King

hands; the whole world would blame them as fools for
running into such a risk. Charles answered, that he
regarded not his own danger. He pressed, with all the
force of argument, to go forward. He did not doubt, he
said, that the justice of his cause would prevail. He was
hopeful that there might be a defection in the enemy's
army, and that many would declare for him. He was so
very bent on putting all to the risk, that the Duke of Perth
was for it, since his Royal Highness was. At last he
proposed going to Wales instead of returning to Carlisle ;
but every other officer declared his opinion for a retreat.
These are nearly the words of Lord Greorge Murray. We
are elsewhere told that the Prince condescended to use
entreaties to induce his adherents to alter their resolution.
* Rather than go back,' he said, ' I would wish to be
twenty feet under ground ! ' His chagrin, when he found
his councillors obdurate, was beyond all bounds. The
council broke up, on the understanding that the retreat was
to commence next morning ; Lord George volunteering to
take the place of honour in the rear, provided only that he
should not be troubled with the baggage.'*

This resolution was received by the army with marks of
unequivocal vexation. Retreat, in their estimation, was
little less than overthrow ; and it was most galling to find
that, after all their labours, hazards, and toils, they were
doomed to disappointment at the very moment when the
prize seemed ready for their grasp. That the movement
was an injudicious one is, I think, obvious. We are told,
upon good authority, '• that the very boldness of the
Prince's onward movement, especially taken into connec-
tion with the expocted descent from France, had at length
disposed the English Jacobites to come outj and many

> ilik

iiir

! I.'l

264 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

were just, on the pr int of declurinp; themselves, and march-
ing .>j j'>Iii hi.} army, when the retreat from Derby was
determiuod on. A ittr Barry arrived in Derby two days
after the Prince left it, with a iuess.jge from Sir Watkin
William Wynne and Lord Barrymore, to assure him, in
the names of manv frionds of the cause, that they were
ready to join him in what manner he pleased, either in the
capital, or every one to rise in his own country. I have
likewise been assured that many of the Welsh gentry had
actually left their homes, and were on the way to join
Charles, when intelligpnce of his retreat at once sent them
all back peaceably, convinced that it was now too late to
contribute their assistance. These men, from the power
they had over their tenantry, could have added materially
to his military force. In fact, from all that appears, we
must conclude that the insurgents had a very considerable
chance of success from an onward movement — also, no
doubt, a chance of destruction, and yet not worse than
what ultimately befell many of them; while a retreat
broke in a moment the spell which their gallantry had
conjured up, and gave the enemy a great advantage over
them."

One victory more was accorded to Prince Charles
before his final overthrow. After successfully conducting
his retreat to Scotland, occupying Glasgow, and strength-
ening his army by the accession of new recruits, he gave
battle to the royal forces under General Hawley at Fal-
kirk, and, as at Preston, drove them from the field. The
parties were on this occasion fairly matched, there being
about eight thousand men engaged on either side. The
action was short ; and, though not so decisive as the
foiULGX one, gaye groat con£deiic.e to the insurgents. It

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES.

265

has been thus picturesquely portrayed by the historian of
the enterprise : — " Some individuals, who beheld the
battle from the steeple of Falkirk, used to describe its
main events as occupying a surprisingly brief space of
time. They first saw the English army enter the misty
and storm-covered muir at the top of the hill ; then saw
the dull atmosphere thickened by a last-rolling smoke,
and heard the pealing sounds of the discharge ; imme-
diately after, they beheld the discomfited troops burst
wildly from the cloud in which they had been involved,
and rush in far-spread disorder over the face of the hill.
From the commencement to what they styled ' the break
of the battle,' there did not intervene more than ten
minutes — so soon may an efficient body of men become,
by one transient emotion of cowardice, a feeble and con-
temptible rabble.

"The rout would have been total, but for the three
out-flanking regiments. These not having been opposed
by any of the clans, having a ravine in front, and deriv-
ing some support from a small body of dragoons, stood
their ground under the command of General Huske and
Brigadier Cholmondley. When the Highlar dcrs went
past in pursuit, they remived a volley from this part of
the English army, which brought them to a pause, and
caused them to draw back to tbcir former ground, their
impression being that some ambuscade was intended. This
saved the English army from destruction. A pause took
place, during which the bulk of the English infantry got
back to Falkirk. It was not until Lord George Murray
brought up the second line of his wing and the pickets,
with some others on the other wing, that General Huske
drew off his party, which he did in good order."

2C6 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Tho seat of war was now removed to the North. The
montli of April 174() found Prince Charleys in poHsoHsion
of InvernoHH with an army sorely dwindled in nuniberfl,
and in fi;rout want of necoH8arieH and provisions. Many
of tho Highlanders had retired for tho winter to their
native glens, and had not yet rejoined the standard. Tho
Duke of Cumberland, who now commanded the English
army, with a reputation not diminished by the unfortunate
issue of Fontenoy, was at the head of a largo body of tried
and disciplined troops, in the hot condition, and supported
by tho powerful arm of artillery.

Ho effected the passage of the Spey, a large and rapid
river which intersects the Highlands, without encountering
any opposition, and on the 15th of the month had arrived
at Nairn, about nine miles distant from the position
ocoupied by his kinsman and opponent. His superiority
in point of strength was so great that the boldest of tho
insurgent chiefs hesitated as to tho policy of giving imme-
diate battle; and nothing but the desire of covering
Inverness prevented the council from recommending a
further retreat into the mountains, where they could no t
have been easily followed, and where they were certain to
have met with reinforcements. As to the Prince, his
confidence in the prowess of the Highlanders was so un-
bounded, that, even with such odds against him, he would
not listen to a proposal for delay.

There yet remained, says Mr Chambers, before playing
the great stake of a pitched battle, one chance of success,
by the irregular mode of warfare to which the army was
accustomed ; and Charles resolved to put it to trial. This
was a night attack upon the camp of the Duke of Cum-
berland. He rightly argued, that if his men could

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES.

267

approncli without being dlscovored, and m:ikc a Riraul-
tuncouH attiick in more than one jilice, the royjil forces, then
probably either engaged in drinking their commander's
health (the 15th happened to bo the anniversary of
the Duko'H birthduy, and was oelebrutcd as 8uch by hia
army), or Bleeping off the effects of the debauch, must be
completely surprised and cut to pieces, or at least effec-
tually routed. The time appointed for setting out upon
the march was eight in the evening, when daylight should
have completely disappeared; and, in the mean time, groat
pains were taken to conceal the secret from the army.

This resolution was entered into at three in the after-
noon, and orders were given to collect the men who had
gone off in search of provisions. The officers dispersed
themselves to Inverness and other places, and besought
the stragglers to repair to the muir. But, under the
influence of hunger, they told their commanders to shoot
them if they pleased, rather than compel them to starve
any longer. Charles had previously declared, with his
characteristic fervour, that though only a thousand of his
men should accompany him, he would lead them on to the
attack; and ho was not now intimidated when he saw
twice that number ready to assist in the enterprise;
though some of his officers would willingly have made this
deficiency of troops an excuse for ab andoning what they
esteemed at best a hazardous expedition. Having given
out for watchword the name of his father, he embraced
Lord George Murray, who was to command the foremost
column, and, putting himself at the head of that which
followed, gave the order to march.

The attempt proved peculiarly unfortunate, and from
the fatigue which it occasioned to the Highlanders, con-

•*»K«-1lil*l«-<

f( :i

268 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTKRS.

tributcd in a great degree towards the disiister of the
following day. The nigl»t olianood to bo unoonnnonly
dark, and jus it was well known that Ciimberl.nid had
etJitioned spies on the principal roads, it beeanio noccpsary
to select a devious rouU?, in order to effect a surprise.
The columns, proceeding over broken and irregular ground,
soon became scattered and dislocated ; no exertions of the
officers could keep the men together, so that Lord Oeorgo
Murray at two o'clock found that he was still distant
three miles from the hostile camp, and that there were no
hopes of commencing the attack before the break of day,
when they would be open to the observation of the enemy.
Under tl^^se circumstances a retreat was commenced; and
the scheme, which at one time seemed to liold out every
probability of success, was abandoned.

*' The H'ghlanders returned, fatigued and disconsolate,
to their former position, about seven in the morning,
when they immediately addressed themselves to sleep, or
went away in search of provisions. So scarce was food at
this critical juncture, that the Prince himself, on retiring
to Culloden House, could obtain no better refreshment
than a little bread and whisky. He felt the utmost anxiety
regarding his men, among v^hom the pangs of hunger,
upon bodies exhausted by fatigue, must have been work-
ing effects most unpromising to his success ; and he gave
orders, before seeking any repose, that the whole country
should now be mercilessly ransacked for the means of
refreshment. His orders were not without effect. Con-
siderable supplies were procured, and subjected to the
cook's art at Inverness ; but the poor famished clansmen
were destined never to taste these provisions, the hour of

rioffl.l •« »«».I ^Tl « o* r\/lfil

K/aucxu vex 1. 1, Ti mi.

V \J-i V i Vf ViiV

Imxr llT/lfll T\l«OT\Ol«j

\:x "«* i/* virv

^A "

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES, 269

About clevon in the forenoon, the troops of Cumberland
were observed upon the eastern extremity of the wide
muir of Culloden, and preparations were instantly made
for the coming battle. The army had been strengthened
that morning by the arrival of the Keppoch Macdonalds
and a party of the Frasers ; but, even with these rein-
forcements, the whole available force which the Prince
could muster was about five thousand men, to oppose at
feiirful odds an enemy twice as numerous, and heavily
supported by artillery. Fortune on this day seemed to
have deserted the Prince altogether. In drawing out the
line of battle, a most unlucky arrangement was made by
O'Sullivan, who acted as adjutant, whereby the Macdonald
regiments were removed from the right wing — the place
which the groat Clan Coila has been privileged to hold
in Scottish array ever since the auspicious battle of
Bannockburn. To those who are not acquainted with the
peculiar temper and spirit of the Highlanders, and their
punctilio upon points of honour and precedence, the
question of arrangement will naturally appear a matter of
little importance. But it was not so felt by the Mac-
donalds, who considorcd their change of position as a
positive degradation, and who further looked upon it as an
evil omen to the success of the battle. The results of
this mistake will be noticed immediately.

Just before the commencement of the action, the wea-
ther, which had hitherto been fair and sunny, became
overcast, and a heavy blast of rain and sleet beat directly
in the faces of the Highlanders. The English artillery then
began to play upon them, and, being admirably served,
every discharge told with fearful effect upon the ranks.
The chief object of either party at the battle of Cuiiodea

270 LAT8 OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

seems to have been to force its opponent to leave his posi-
tion, and to commence the attack. Cumberland, findino*
that his artillery was doing such execution, had no occa-
sion to move ; and Charles appears to have committed a
great error in abandoning a mode of warfare which was
peculiarly suited for his troops, and which on two previous
occasions had proved eminently successful. Had he at
once ordered a general charge, and attempted to silence the
guns, the issue of the day mis^ht have been otherwise ; but
his unfortunate star prevailed.

" It was not," says Mr Chambers, "till the cannonade
had continued nearly half an hour, and the Highlanders
had seen many of their kindred strei ^hed upon the heath,
that Charles at last gave way .;o the necessity of order-
ing a charge. The aide-de-camp intrusted to carry his
message; to the lieutenant-general— a youth of the name of
Maclachlan— was killed by a cannon-bill before he reached
the first line ; but the general sentiment of the army, as
reported to Lord George Murray, supplied the want, and
that general took it upon him to order an ittack without
Charles's permission having been communicated.

" Lord George had scarcely determined upon ordering a
general movement, when the Macintoshes, a brave and
devoted clan, though not before engaged in action, unable
any longer to brook the unavenged slaughter made by the
cannon, broke from the centre of the line, and rushed for-
ward through smoke and snow to mingle with the enemy.
The Athole men, Camerons, Stuarts, Frasers, and
Macleans, also went on; Lord George Murray heading
them with that rash bravery befitting the commander of
such forces. Thus, in the course of one or two minutes,
the charge was general along the whole line, except at the

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 271

left extremity, where the Macdonalds, dissatisfied with
their position, hesitated to engage.

" The action and event of the onset were, throughout,
quite as dreadful as the mental emotion which urged it!
Notwithstanding that the three files of the front fine of
English poured forth their incessant fire of musketry—
notwithstanding that the cannon, now loaded with grape-
shot, swept the field as with a hail-storm-notwithstanding
the flank fire of Wolfe's regiment— onward, onward went
the headlong Highlanders, flinging themselves into, rather
than rushing upon, the lines of the enemy, which, indeed,
they did not see for smoke, till involved among the
weapons. All that courage, all that despair could do, was
done. It was a moment of dreadful and agonising sus-
pense, but only a moment— for the whirlwind does not
reap the forest with greater rapidity than the Highlanders
clear-d the line. Nevertheless almost every man in their
f.ont rank, chief and gentleman, fell before the deadly
weapons which they had braved : and although the enemy
gave vay, it was not till every bayonet was bent and
bloody 'v>i*th the strife.

"When ^he ^rst line had thus been swept aside, the
assailants continued their impetuous advance till they
came near the second, when, being almost annihilated by
a profuse and well-directed fire, the shattered remains of
what had been before a numerous and confident forco
began to give way. Still a few rushed on, resolved rather
to die than forfeit their well-acquired and dearly estimated
honour. They rushed on ; but not a man ever came in
contact with the enemy. The last survivor perished as
he reached tne points of the bayonets."

272

LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAhlERS,

Sumo idea of the dotcrininatioti diHplnyod by tho
IlighlandorB in tliin torritio oliurjjjo may bo gathered from
tho fact that, in one part of the tiehl, their bodies wero
ailerwards found in htyors of throo and fowr deep. Tho
iskughtor w»w fearful, I'or, out of tho live regiments which
oliargod tho English, almost all tho leaders and moti in
tho front rank wore killed. So shaken wn;} tho English
lino, that, had tho Mncdonald regiments, well known to
yield in valour to none of the clans, come up, tho fortune
of tho day might have boon altered. But they never
made an onset. Smarting and sullen at tho aftVont which
they oonoejived to have been put upon their name, they
bore tho tiro of the English regiments without flinching,
and gave way to their rage by hewing at tho heather
with their swords. In vain their chiefs exhorted them
tc go forward; oven at that terrible moment tho prido
of clanship prevailed. " My God 1" cried Maodonald of
Keppoch, '* has it oomo to this, that tho children of my
tribe have forsaken mo!" and ho rushed forward alone,
Eiword in hand, with the devotion of uq uucient hero,
und fell pierced with bullets.

Tho Lowland and foreign troops which formed tho
second line were powerless to retrieve the disaster. All
wjus over. The rout became general, and tho Prince was
forced from the field, which ho would not quit until
dragged from it by his immediate body-guard.

Such was the last battle, tho result of civil war, which
has beeit fought on British soil. Those who were defeated
have acquired as much glory from it as the conquerors —
and even niore, for uevor was a concpiest sullied by such
deeds of deliberate cruelty as wire perpetrated upon tho

survivors

of th

^ f/UVi-iV ISi. -».-%« 1

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 273

tho ol)jcct of the proscni papor to recount those, or even

the ronmntlo hintory and liafihroiiath oHoapes of tlio

Prince, whilHt waiulorin^^on the maiiil.ind and through tlio

Hebrides. Altliough u reward of thirty tliouHund pounds

(an iinmcnHo 8uni for the period) wasHist upon hiHhead —

ttlthougii hiH msrot wa.s known to hundrtidH of nerHOUH in

every walk of lilb, and even to the bcKgar and tlio out-

hiw— not one attiiuipted to betray him. Not one of all

hiH followerH, in the niid.st of the n.iHery which overtook

them, regretted having drawn the Hword in his cauno, or

would not again have gladly inquMilK-d their Hvch for'tho

sake of rhoir beloved Chevalier. " Ho went," HayH Lord

Mahon, - but net with l.ini departed bin renienibr.nco

from the IlighlanderH. For yoarn and ycarH dkl hi.s name

continue euHhrined in their heartH and familiar to their

tongues, th(nr plaintive ditties renounding with his exploits

and mviting his return. Again, in these strains, do thoy

declare themselves ready to risk life and fortune for his

cause ; and even maternal fonduesM-the stroi- rest, perhaps,

of all human ieolings—yiolds to the passionate devotion

to Prince Oharlio."

The subsequent life of the Prince is a story of mclan-
clioly interest. We find him at first received in France
with all the lionours due to one who, though unfortunate
had exhibited a heroism rarely e(iualled and never
surpassed : gradually he was ncolected and slighted, as
one of a doomed and unliappy race, whom no human
^xurtlon could aviil to elevate to th ir former seat of power ;
and finally, when his presence in France became ar fbstacle
to the conclusion of peace, lie wag violently arrested and
convcyed^out.)f the kingdom. There can be little doubt that
continued misfbrtuno and disappuiutment had begun very

274 LAYS OF TEE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

early to impair his noble mind. For long periods he was a
wanderer, lost sight of by .his friends, and even by his father
and brother. There are fragments of his writing extant
which show how poignantly he felt the cruelty of his fortune.
** De vivro et pas vivre est beuucoup plus que de mourir !"
And iigain, writing to his father's secretary, eight years
after Culloden, he says: " I am grieved that our master
should think that my silence was either neglect or want of
duty; but, in reality, my situation is such that I have
nothing lo say but imprecations against the fatality of
being born in such a detestable age." An unhappy and
uncongenial marriage tended still more to embitter his
exis^ioace; and if at last he yielded to frailties which
inevitably insure degradation, it must be remembered that
his lot had been one to which few men have ever been
exposed, and the magnitude of his sufferings may fairly
be admitted as some paliiation for his weakness.

To the last his heart was with Scotland. The following
anecdote was related by his brother. Cardinal York, to
Bishop Walker, the late Primus of the Episcopal Church
of Scotland:-— "M»' Greathead, a personal friend of Mr
Fox, succeeded, when at Rome in 1782 or 1783, in
obtaining an interview ^ ith Charles Edward ; and, being
alone with him for some time, studiously led the conver-
sation to his enterprise in Scotland, and to the occurrences
which succeeded the failure of that attempt. The Prince
manifested some reluctance to enter upon these topics,
appearing at the same time to undergo so much mental
suffering, that his guest regretted the freedom he had used
in calling up the remembrance of his misfortunes. At
length, however, the Prince seemed to shake off the load
which oppressed him ; his eye brightened, his lace assumed

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 275

unwonted animation, and he entered upon the narrative
of his Scottish campaigns with a diotinct but somewhat
vehement energy of manner— recounted his marches, his

battles, his victories, his retreats, and his defeats

detailed his hairbreadth escapes in the Western Isles, the
inviolable and devoted attachment of his Highland friends
and at length proceeded to allude to the terrible penalties
with which the chiefs among them had been visited. But
here the tide of emotion rose too high to allow him to go
on — his voice faltered, his eyes became fixed, and he fell
convulsed on the floor. The noise brought into his room,
his daughter, the Duchess of Albany, who happened to bo
in an adjoining apartment. * Sir,' she exclaimed, 'what
is this ? You have been speaking to my father about
Scotland and the Highlanders ! No one dares to mention
those subjects in his presence.' "

He died on the 30th January 1788, in the arms of the
Master of Nairn. The monument erected to him, his
father, and brother, in St Peter's, by desire of George IV.,
was perhaps the riost graceful tribute ever paid by royalty
to misfortune— Regio Cineri Pietas Regia.

t !

iii

1 i .

|;'ii

li iii

I'i - ''

1 1

y. . Ill

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES.

ON THE ANNIVEBSAB; 07 OULLODEN.

Take away that star and garter —

Hide them from my aching sight !
Neither king nor prince shall tempt me

From my lonely room this night.
Fitting for the throneless exile

Is the atmosphere of pall,
And the gusty winds that shiver

'Neath the tapestry on the vail ;
When the taper faintly dwindles

Like the pulse within the vein,
That to gay and merry measure

Ne'er may hope to bound again.
Let the shadows gather round me

While I sit in silence here,
Broken-hearted, as an orphan

Watching by his father's bier.
Let me hold my still communion

Far from every earthly sound —
Day of penance — day of passion —

Ever, as the year comes round :

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES- 277

Fatal day ! whereon the latest

Die was cast for me and mine—
Cruel day, that quelled the fortunes

Of the hapless Stuart line I
Phantom- like, as in a mirror,

Rise the griesly scenes of Death-
There before me in its wildness

Stretches bare Oulloden's heath :
There the broken clans are scattered,
Gaunt as wolves, and famine-eyed
Hunger gnawing at their vitals,

Hope abandoned, all but pride-
Pride— and that supreme devotion
Which the Southron never knew
And the hatred, deeply rankling

'Gainst the Hanoverian crew.
Oh, my God I are these the remnants

These the wrecks of the array,
That around the royal standard
Gathered on the glorious day,
When, in deep Glenfinnan's valley
Thousands on their bended knees
Saw once more that stately ensign
Waving in the northern breeze 1
When the noble Tullibardine

Stood beneath its weltering fold,
With the Ruddy Lion ramping
In its field of tressured gold I
When the mighty heart of Scotland,

All too big to slumber more,
Burst in wrath and exultation
Like a huge volcano's roar I

278 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

There they stand, the battered columns,

Underneath the murky sky,
In the hush of desperation,

Not to conquer, but to die.
Harkl the bagpipe's fitful wailing:
Not the pibroch loud aa J shrill,
That, with hope of bloody ban juet,
Lured the ravens from the hill —
But a dirge both low and solemn,

Fit for ears of dying men,
Marshalled for their latest battle,

Never more to fight again.
Madness— madness 1 Why this shrinking ?

Were we less inured to war
When our reapers swept the harvest

From the field of red Dunbar?
Bring my horse, and blow the trumpet

Call the riders of Fitz-James :
Let Lord Lewis head the column

Valiant chiefs of mighty names-
Trusty Keppoch ! stout Glengarry I
Gallant Gordon I wise Locheill I
Bid the clansmen hold together,
Fast and fell, and firm as steel.
Elcho 1 never look so gloomy —

What avails a saddened brow ?
Heart, man! heart 1— We need it sorely,
, Never half so much as now.

Had we but a thousand troopers,
Had we but a thousand more I
Noble Perth, I hear them coming
Harkl the English cannons' roar.

CHABIES EDWAMD AT VERSAILLES. 279

God I hoTf awful sounds that volley,

Bellowing through the mist and rain I
Was not that the Highland slogan ?

Let me hear that shout again I
Oh, for prophet eyes to witness

How tlie desperate battle goes I
Cumberland I I would not fear thee,
Could my amorous see their foes.
Sound, I say, the charge at venture—

'Tis not nuked steel we fear :
Better perish in the mel6e

Than be shot like driven deer I
Hold I the mist begins to scatter I
There in front 'tis rent asunder.
And the cloudy bastion crumbles

Underneath the deafening thunder.
There I see the scarlet gleaming !

Now, Macdonald,— now or never I—
Woe is me, the clans are broken I

Father, thou art lost for ever!
Chief and vassal, lord and yeoman,
There they lie in heaps together.
Smitten by the deadly volley.

Rolled in blood upon the heather ;
And the Hanoverian horsemen,

Fiercely riding to and fro.
Deal their murderous strokes at random.

Ah, my God I where am I now ?

Will that baleful vision never

Vanish from my aching sight?
Must those scenes and sounds of terror

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280 lATS OF ms BOOTTISB CAVAlUSJiS,

Yea I the earth hath no oblivion

For the nuble>it chanoe it gave,
None, Rave In Ita latest rel\ige—

Seek It only In the grave t
Love may die, and hatred slumber,

And their memory will decay,
Aa the watered garden re oka not

Of the drought of yesterday ;
But the ditiam of power once broken.

What shall give repose again ?
What shall oharm the aerpent-Airies

Coiled around the maddening brain?
What kind draii<jht can nature offer
1 Strong enough to lull their sting ?
Better to be born a peasant

Than to live an exiled king!
Oh, these years of bitter anguish !->-

What is life to suoh as me,
With ray very heart as palsied .

As a wasted cripple's knee !
Suppliant-like for alms depending

On a false and foreign court ;
Jostled by the flouting nobles,

Half their pity, half their sport,
Forced to hold a place in pageant

Like a royal prize of war.
Walking with dejected features

Close behind his victor's car ;
Styled an equal — deemed a servant —

Fed with hopes of future gain : '
Worse by far is fancied freedom

Than tue captive's clanking chain 1

(JUAUIES EDWARD AT VmSAILLES. 281

Oould I change this gilded bondage

Even for the duiky tower,
Whence King James beheld hli lady

Sitting in the caatle bower ;
Blrdi around her sweetly singing,
Fluttering on tlie kindled spray,
And the comely garden glowing

In the ligljt of rosy May.
Love descended to the window—-

Love removed the bolt and bar-
Love was warder to the lovers
From the dawn to oven-star.
Wherefore, Love I didst thou betray me ?

Where is now the tender glance —
Where the meaning looks once lavished

By the dark-eyed Maid of Franco ?
Where the words of hope she whispered,

When around my neck she threw
Thiit same scarf of broidered tissue,

Bade rae wear it and be true —
Bade me send it as a token

When my banner waved once more
On the castled Keep of London,

Where my father's waved before ?
And I went and did not conquer —

But I brought it back again —
Brought it back from storm and battle— *

Brought it back without a stain j
And once more I knelt before her,

And I laid it at her feet,
Saying, " Wilt thou own it, Princess?
There at least is no defeat I "

■91!

> I

282 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Scornftilly sbe looked upon me

With a measured eye and cold —
• Scornfully she viewed the token,

Though her fingers wrought the gold ;
And she answered, faintly flushing,

" Hast thou kept it, then, so long ?
Worthy matter for a minstrel

To be told in knightly song I
Worthy of a bold Provencal,

Pacing o'er the peaceful plain,
Singing of his lady's favour.

Boasting of her silken chain —
Yet scarce worthy of a warrior

Sent to wrestle for a crown I
Is this all that thou hast brought me

From thy fields of high renown ?
Is this all the trophy carried

From the lands where thou hast been?
It was broidered by a Princess —

Canst thou give it to a Queen ? "

Woman's love is writ in water I

Woman's faith is traced on sand ! —
Backwards — backwards let me wander

To the noble northern land :
Let me feel the breezes blowing

Fresh along the mountain-side !
Let me see the purple heather,

Let me hear the thundering tide,
Be it hoarse as Corrievreckan

Spouting when the storm is high —
Give me but one hour of Scotland —

Let me see it ere I die !

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES, 283

Oh ! my heart is sick and heavy-
Southern gales are not for me ;
Though the glens are white with winter,

Place me there and set me free.
Give me back my trusty comrades —

Give me back my Highland maid —
Nowhere beats the herrt so kindly

As beneath the tartan plaid I
Flora I when thou wert beside me,

In the wilds of far Kintail—
When the cavern gave us shelter

From the blinding sleet and hail-
When we lurked within the thicket,

And, beneath the waning moon,
Saw the sentry's bayonet glimmer,

Heard him chant his listless tune-
When the howling storm o'ertook us.

Drifting down the island's lee.
And our crazy bark was whirling

Like a nutshell on the sea —
When the nights were dark and dreary,

And amidst the fern we lay.
Faint and foodless, sore with travel.

Waiting for the streaks of day ;
When thou wert an angel to me.

Watching my exhausted sleep-
Never didst thou hear me murmur —

Couldst thou see how now I weep I
Bitter tears and sobs of anguish,

IPna vailing though they be.
Oh I the brave — the brave and noble —

That have died in vain for me I

284 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS,

NOTES TO " CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES."

" Could I change this gilded bondage
Even for the dusky tower.
Whence King James beheld his lady «

Sitting in the castle bower." — P. 281.

James 1. of Scotland, one of the most accomplished kings that
ever sat upon a throne, is the person here indicated. His history
is a very strange and romantic one. He was son of Robert HL,
and immediate younger brother of that unhappy Duke of Rothesay
who was murdered at Falkland. His father, apprehensive of the
designs and treachery of Albany, had determined to remove him,
when a mere boy, for a season from Scotland ; and as France was
then considered the best school for the education o^ one so impor-
tait from his high position, it was resolved to send him thither,
under the care of the Earl of Orkney, and Fleming of Cumber-
nauld. He accordingly embarked at North Berwick, with little
escort— as there was a truce for the time between England and
Scotland, and they were under nc apprehension of meeting with
any vessels, save those of the former nation. Notwithstanding
this, the ship which carried the Prince was captured by an armed
merchantman, and carried to London, where Henry IV., the
usurping Bolingbroke, utterly regardless of treaties, committed
him and his attendants to the Tower.

" In vain," says Mr Tytler, " did the guardians of the young
Prince remonstrate against this cruelty, or present to Henry a
letter from the King his father, which, with much simplicity,
recommended him to the kindness of the English monarch, should
he find it necessary to land in his dominioas. In vain did they
represe it that the mission to France was perfectly pacific, and its
only object the education of the Prince at the French Court.
Henry merely answered by a poor witticism, declaring that he
himself knew the French language indifferently well, and that his

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES, 286

father could not have sent him to a better master. So flagrant a
breach of the Ikw of nations, as the seizure and imprisonment of
the heir-apparent, during the time of truce, would have called for
the most violent remonstrances from any government except that
of Albany. But to this usurper of the supreme power, the capture
of the Prince was the most grateful event which could have
happened ; and to detain hira in captivity became, from this
moment, one of the principal objects of his future life ; we are not
to wonder, then, that the conduct of Henry not only drew forth
no indignation from the governor, but was not even followed by
any request that the Prince should be set at liberty.

" The aged King, already worn out by infirmity, and now broken
by disappointment and sorrow, did not long survive the captivity
of his son. It is said the melancholy news were brought him as
he was sitting down to supper in his palace of Rothesay in Bute,
and that the effect was such upon his, affectionate but feeble spirit,
that he drooped from that day forward, refused all sustenance,
and died soon after of a broken heart."

Jamei was finally incarcerated in Windsor Castle, where be
endured an imjjrisonment of nineteen years. Henry, though he
had not hesitated to commit a heinous breach of faith, was not so
cruel as to neglect the education of his captive. The young Kiig
was supplied with the best masters, and gradually became an
adept in all the accomplishments of the age. He is a singular
exception from the rule which maintains that monarchs are
indifferent authors. As a poet, he is entitled to a very high rank
indeed— being, I think, in point of sweetness and melody of verse,
not much inferior to Chaucer. Prom the window of his chamber
in the Tower, he had often seen a young lady, of great beauty and
grace, walking in the garden ; and the admiration which at once
possessed him soon ripened into love. This was Lady Jane
Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, a niece of Henry IV.,
and who afterwards became his queen. How he loved and how he
wooed her is told in his own beautiful poem of " The King's
Quhair," of which the following are a few stanzas : —

" Now there was made, fast by the towris wall,
A garden fair ; and in the corners set
An arbour green, with wandls long and small
Railed about, and so with trees set

286 IAT8 OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf was none walking there forbye,
That might within scarce any wight espy.

" So thick the boughis and the leayis greene
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And mids of every arbour might be seen
The sharpe, greene, sweete juniper,
Growing so fair, with branches here and there,
That, as it seemed to a lyf without,
The boughis spread the arbour all about.

" And on the smalle greene twistis sat
The little sweete nightingale, and sung
So loud and clear the hymnis consecrat
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among,
That all the gardens and the wallis rung
Right of their song.

" And therewith cast I down mine eyes again.
Whereat I saw, walking under the tower,
Full secretly, now comen here to plain.
The fairest or the freshest younge flower
T^<i t^ That e'er I saw, methought, before that hour ;
For which sudden abate, anon astart
The blood of all my body to my heart.

" And though I stood abasit for a lite,
No wonder was ; for why ? my wittis all
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight-
Only through letting of my eyen fall —
That suddenly my heart became her thrall
For ever of free will, for of menace
There was no token in her sweete face."

" Wherefore, Love! didst thou betray me ?
Where is now the tender glance —
Where the meaning looks once lavished

By the dark-eyed Maid qf France f^—V. 281.

; CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 287

There appears to be no doubt that Prince Charles was deeply
attached to one of the princesses of the royal family of France.
In the interesting collection called " Jacobite Memoirs," compiled
by Mr Chambers from the voluminous MSS. of Bishop Forbes, we
find the following passage from the narrative of Donald Macleod,
who acted as a guide to the wanderer whilst traversing the
Hebrides:— "When Donald was asked, if ever the Prince used
to give any particular toast, when they were taking a cup of cold
water, or the like ; he said that the Prince very often drank to the
Black Eye— by which, said Donald, he meant the second daughter
of France, and I never heard him name any particular health but
that alone. When he spoke of that lady— which he did fre-
quently—he appeared to be more thnn ordinarily well pleased."

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.

The " gentle Locheill " may be considered as the pattern
of a Highland Chief. Others who joined the insurrection
may have been actuated by motives of personal ambition,
and by a desire for aggrandisement j but no such charge
can be made against the generous and devoted Cameron.
He was, as we have already seen, the first who attempted
to dissuade the Prince from embarking in an enterprise
which he conscientiously believed to be desperate; but,
having failed in doing so, he nobly stood firm to the cause
which his conscience vindicated as just, and cheerfully im-
perilled his life, and sacrificed his fortune, for the sake of
his master. There was no one, even among those who
espoused the other side, in Scotland, who did not com-
miserate the misfortunes of this truly excellent man, whose
humanity was not less conspicuous than his valour through-
out the civil war, and who died in exile of a broken heart.
Perhaps the best type of the Lowland Cavalier of that
period may be found in the person of Alexander Forbes,

THE OLD SCOTTISH OAVALIER.

289

Lord Pitsligo, a nobleman whose oonscientions views im-
pelled him to take a different side from that adopted by
the greater part of his house and name. Lord Forbes, the
head of this very ancient and honourable family, was one
of the first Scottish noblemen who declared for King
William. Lord Pitaligo, on the contrary, who had been
educated abroad, and early introduced to the circle at St
Germains, conceived a deep personal attachment to the
members of the exiled line. He was anything but an
enthusiast, as his philosophical and religious writings, well
' worthy of a perusal, will show. He was the intimate friend
of F^n^lon, and throughout his whole life was remarkable
rather for his piety and virtue than for keenness in political
dispute.

After his return from France, Lord Pitsligo took his
seat in the Scottish Parliament, and his parliamentary
career has thus been characterised by a former writer.*
" Here it is no discredit either to his head or heart to say,
that, obliged to become a member of one of the contending
factions of the time, he adopted that which had for its
object the independence of Scotland, and restoration of the
ancient race of monarchs. The advantages which were in
future to arise from the great measure of a national union
were so hidden by the mists of prejudice, that it cannot be
wondered at if Lord Pitsligo, like many a high-spirited
man, saw nothing but disgrace in a measure forced on by
such corrupt means, and calling in its commencement for
such mortifying national sacrifices. The English nation,
indeed, with a narrow, yet not unnatural view of their own
interest, took such pains to encumber and restrict the

* See Blackwood's Magazine for May 1829--Article, « Lord
Pitsligo." , «xu

290

LAYS OF THE SOOTTISIT CAVALIERS.

Scottish commoroial privilegos, that it was not till the best
part of a century after the event that the inoatimablo fruits
of the treaty boj^i'n to be felt and known. This distant
period Lord Pitsligo could not foresee. Ho beheld his
countrymen, like the Israelites of yore, led into the desert ;
but his merely human eye could not foresee that, after the
extinction of a whole race— after a longer pilgrimage than
that of the followers of Moses — the Scottish people should
at length arrive at that promised land, of which the
favourers of the Union held forth so gay a prospect.

" Looking upon the Act of Settlement of the Crown, '
and the Act of Abjuration, as unlawful, Lord Pitsligo
retired to his house in the country, and threw up attend-
ance on Parliament. Upon the death of Queen Anne, he
joined himself in arms with a general insurrection of the
Highlanders and Jacobites, headed by his friend and rela-
tive the Earl of Mar.

" Mar, a versatile statesman and an able intriguer, had
consulted his ambition rather than his talents when he
assumed the command of such an enterprise. He sank
beneath the far superior genius of the Duke of Argyle j
and, after the undecisive battle of Sheriffmuir, the confed-
eracy which he had formed, but was unable to direct, dis-
solved like a snowball, and the nobles concerned in it were
fain to fly abroad. This exile was Lord Pitsligo's fate for
five or six years. Part of the time he spent at the Court,
if it can be called so, of the old Chevalier de Saint
George, where existed all the petty feuds, chicanery, and
crooked intrigues which subsist in a real scene of the same
character, although the objects of the ambition which
prompts such acts had no existence. Men seemed to play
at being courtiers in that illusory Court, as children play
at being soldiers. "

' TJJ£ OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 291

It would appear that Lord Pitwligo was not attainted for
his Hhare in Mar's robollion. He returned to Scothind in
1720, and resided at his castle in Aberdeenshire, not
inin^^linc,Mn public affairs, but gaining, through his chiirity,
kindness, and benevolence, the respect and affection of all
around him. He was sixty-seven years of ago when
Charles Edward landed in Scotland. The district in which
the estates of Lord Pitsligo lay was essentially Jacobite,
and the young cavaliers only waited for a fitting leader
to take up arms in the cause. According to Mr
Home, his example was decisive of the movement of
his neighbours : " So when he who was so wise and
prudent declared his purpose of joining Charles, most of
the gentlemen in that part of the country who favoured
the Pretender's cause, put themselves under his command,
thinking they could not follow a better or safer guide than
Lord Pitsligo." His Lordship's own account of the
motives which urged him on is peculiar:—" I was grown
a little old, and the fear of ridicule stuck to mo pietty
much. I have mentioned the weightier considerations of
a family, which would make the censure still the greater
and set the more tongues a-going. But we are pushed on'
I know not how : I thought—I weighed— and I weighed
again. If there was any enthusiasm in it, it was of the
coldest kind; and there was as little remorse when the
affair miscarried, as there was eagerness at the beginning."
The writer whom I have already quoted goes on to say
— " To those friends who recalled his misfortunes of 1715
he replied gaily, ' Did you ever know me absent at the
second day of a wedding ?' meaning, I suppose, that
havmg once contracted an engagement, he did not feel
entitled to quit it while the contest subsisted. Beins

vv^

292 LAYS OF TEE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

invited by the gentlemen of the district to put himself at
their head, and having surmounted his own desires, he had
made a farewell visit at a neighbour's house, where a little
boy, a child of the family, brought out a stool to assist the
old nobleman in remounting his horse. * My little fellow,'
said Lord Pitsligo, 'this is the severest rebuke I Lave yet
received, for presuming to go on such an expedition.'

'< The die was however cast, and Lord Pitsligo went to
meet his friends at the rendezvous they had appointed in
Aberdeen. They formed a body of well-armed cavalry,
gentlemen and their servants, to the number of a hundred
men. When they were drawn ap in readiness to commence
the expedition, the venerable nobleman their leader moved
to their front, lifted his hat, and, looking up to heaven, pro-
nounced, with a solemn voice, the awful appeal, — ' Lord,
Thou knowest that our cause is just!' then added the
signal for departure-—' March, gentlemen !'

"Lord Pitsligo, with his followers, found Charles at
Edinburgh, on 0th October 1745, a few days after the
Highlanders' victory at Preston. Their arrival was hailed
with enthusiasm, not only on account of the timely rein-
foroement3, but more especially from the high charactev of
their leader. Hamilton of Bangour, in an animated and
eloquent eulogium upon Pitsligo, states that nothing could
have fallen out more fortunately for the Prince than his
*o''ning tbem did— for it seemed as if religion, virtue, and
justice were entering his cgmp, under the appearance of
this venerable old man ; and what would have given sanc-
tion to a cause cf the most dubious right, could not fail to
render sacred the very best."

Although so far advanced in years, he remained in arms
durin"- the whole campaign, and was treated with almost

1
t

s
1

P
I

mself at
I, he had
3 a little
Bsist the
fellow,'
Lave yet
m.

went to
int-ed in
cavalry^
hundred
mmence
r moved
ven, pro-
Lord,
ded the

larles at
ifter the
as hailed
ely rein-
ractev of
atcd and
Qg could
than his
tue, and
ranee of
iren sanc-
ot fail to

in arms
b almost

; TBM OLD SCOTTISB CAVALIMB. 293

filial tenderness by the Prince. After CuUoden, he became
hke many others, a fugitive and an outlaw, but he
succeeded, hke the Baron of Bradwardine, in findi„A
shelter upon the skirts of his own estate. J>\^Zl a
mendieant, h,s secret was faithfully kept by the^nanfy •

that !!i w"° ' V """' *"" ™""'»«"' ''y *" ^oWiTr^
that he was lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood, they

ne™r were able to detect him. On one occasion he acluany
guded a party to a cave on the sea-shore, amidst th.
rough rooks of Buchan, where it was rumoured that he J
lying m concealment; and on another, when overtaken by
his asthma, ar.a utterly unable to escape from an approach-
•ng patrol of soldiers, ho sat down by the waysWe, and
acted his assumed character so well, that a good-natured
fellow not only gave him alms, but condoled with him on
the violence of his complaint.

For ten years he remained concealed, but in the mean-
time both title and estate were forfeited by attainder His
last escape was so very remarkable, that I maybe pardoned
for giving ,t m the language of the author of his Memoirs
In March 1756, and of course long after all apprc^
hension of a search had cense-;, information bavin-, been
given to the commanding officer at Fraserbuigh that Lord
Pitshgo was at tiiat moment at the house of Auchiries it
was acted upon with so much promptness and secrecy that
the search must have proved successful but for a very
singular occurrence. Mrs Sophia Donaldson, a lady who
lived much with the family, repeatedly dreamt, on that
|)artieularnif.'ht, that the house was surrounded by soldiers
Her mind became so haunted with the idea, that she got
out of bed, and was walking through the room in hn,«„ „e
giving a different current to hei thoughts before she Jay

294 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

down again ; when, day beginning to dawn, she accident-
ally looked out at the window as she passed it in traversing
the room, and was astonished at actually observing the
fitrures of soldiers among some trees near the house. So
completely had all idea of a search been by that time laid
asleep, that she supposed they had come to steal poultry —
Jacobite poultry-yards affording a safe object of pillage for
the English soldiers in those days. Mrs Sophia was
proceeding to rouse the servants, when her sister having
awaked, and inquiring what was the matter, and being told
of soldiers near the house, exclaimed in great alarm that
she feared they wanted something more than hens. She
beo-'^ed Mrs Sophia to look out at a window on the other
side of the house, when not only were soldiers 3een in that
direction, but also an officer giving instructions by signal,
and frequently putting his fingers to his lips, as if enjoin-
ino- silence. There was now no time to be lost in rousing the
family, and all the haste that could be made was scarcely
sufficient to hurry the venerable man from his bed into a
small recess, behind the wainscot of an adjoining room,
Vhich was concealed by a bed, in which a lady, Miss
Gordon of Towie, who was there or a visit, lay, before the
soldiers obtained admission. A most minute search took
place. The room in which Lord Pitsligo was concealed
did not escape. Miss Gordon's bed was carefully exam-
ined, and she was obliged to suffer the rude scrutiny of
one of the party, by feeling her chin, to ascertain that it
was not a man in a lady's night-dress. Before the soldiers
had finished their examination in this room, the confine-
ment and anxiety increased Lord Pitsligo' s asthma so much,
and his breathing became so loud, that it cost Miss Gordon,
lying in bed, much and violent coughing, which she coun-

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.

295

was

terfeited in order to prevent the high breathings behind
the wainscot from being heard. It may easily be con-
ceived what agony she would suffer, lest, by overdoing her
part, she should increase suspicion, and in fatft lead to a
discovery. The ruse was fortunately successful. On the
search through the house being given over. Lord Pitsligo
was hastily taken from his confined situation, and again
replaced in bed ; and as soon as he was able to speak, his
accustomed kindness of heart made him say to his servant
— -< James, go and see that these poor fellows get some
breakfast, and a drink of warm ale, for this is a cold morn-
ing ; they are only doing their duty, and cannot bear me
any ill-will.' When the family were felicitating each
other on his escape, he pleasantly observed, — 'A poor
prize, had they obtained it— an old dying man !' "

This was the last attempt made on the part of Govern-
ment to seize on the persons of any of the surviving
insurgents. Three years before, Dr Archibald Cameron,
a brother of Locheill, having clandestinely revisited Scot-
land, was arrested, tried, and executed for high treason at
Tyburn. The Government was generally blamed for this
act of severity, which was considered rather to have been
dictated by revenge than required for the public safety.
It is, however, probable that they might have had secret
information of certain negotiations which were still con-
ducted in the Highlands by the agents of the Stuart
family, and that they considered it necessary, by one
terrible example, to overawe the insurrectionary spirit.
This I believe to have been the real motive of an execution
which otherwise could not have been palliated ; and in the
case of Lord Pitsligo, it is ouite nossible that the zeal of
a partisan may have led him to take a step which would

296 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS.

not have been approved of by the Ministry. After the
lapse of so many years, and after so many scenes of
judicial bloodshed, the nation would have turned in disgust
from the spectacle of an old man, whose private life was
not only blameless, but exemplary, dragged to the scaffold,
and forced to lay down his head in expiation of a doubtful
crime; and this view derives corroboration from the fact
that, shortly afterwards, Lord Pitsligo was tacitly per-
mitted to return to the society of his friends, without
further notice or persecution.

Dr King, the Principal of St Mary's Hall, Oxford,
has borne the following testimony to the character of Lord
Pitsligo: — '<■ Whoever is so happy, either from his natural
disposition or his good judgment, constantly to observe St
Paul's precept, * to speak evil of no one,' will certainly
acquire the love and esteem of the whole community of
which he is a member. But such a man is the vara avis
in terris ; and, among all my acquaintance, I have known
only one person to whom I' can with truth assign this
character. The person I mean is the present Lord Pitsligo
of Scotland. I not only never heard this gentleman speak
an ill word of any man living, but I always observed him
ready to defend any other person who was ill spoken of in
his company. If the person accused were of his acquain-
tance, my Lord Pitsligo would always find somethitig good
to say of him as a counterpoise. If he were a stranger,
and quite unknown to him, my Lord would urge in his
defence the general corruption of manners, and the frailties
and infirmities of human nature.

" It is no wonder that such an excellent man, who,
besides, is a polite scholar, and has many other great and'
good qualitieSjShould be universally admired and beloved —

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.

297

insomucli, that I persuade myself he has not one enemy
in the world. At least, to this general esteem and affec-
tion for his person, his preservation must be owing;
for since his attainder he has never removed far from his
own house, protected by men of different principles, and
unsought for and unmolested by Government." To which
eulogy it might be added, by those who have the good
fortune to know his representatives, that the virtues here
acknowledged seem hereditary in the family of Pitsligo.

The venerable old nobleman was permitted to remain
without molestation at the residence of his son, during the
latter years of an existence protracted to the extreme verge
of human life. And so, says the author of his Memoirs,
" In this happy frame of mind, — calm and full of hope, —
the saintly man continued to the last, with his reason
unclouded, able to study his favourite volume, enjoying
the comforts of friendship, and delighting in the conso-
lations of religion, till he gently * fell asleep in Jesus.'
He died on the 21st of December 1762, in the eighty-
fifth year of his age ; and to his surviving friends the
recollection of the misfortunes which had accompanied him
through his long life was painfully awakened even in the
closing scene of his mortal career — as his son had the
mortification to be indebted to a stranger, now the pro-
prietor of his ancient inheritance by purchase from the
Crown, for permission to lay his father's honoured remains
in the vault which contained the ashes of his family for
many generations."

Such a character as this is well worthy of remembrance ;
and Lord Pitsligo has just title to be ^.m^ 'ed the last of the
eld Scottish cavaliers. I trust that, in adapting the words
of the following little ballad to a well-known English air,
I have committed no unpardonable larceny.

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.

Comb listen to another song,

Should make your heart beat high,
Bring crimson to your forehead,

And tbo lustre to your eye ;

It is a song of olden time,

Of days long since gone by.
And of a baron stout and bold

II.

He kept his castle in the north,

Hard by the thundering Spey ;
And a thousand vassals dwelt around.

All of his kindred they.
And not a man of all that clan

Had ever ceased to pray
For the Royal race they loved so well.

Though exiled far away
From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers.
All of the olden time !

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.

299

III.

His father drew the righteous sword

For Scotland and her claims,
Among the loyal gentlemen

And chiefs of ancient names,
Who swore to fight or fall beneath

The standard of King James,
And died at Killiecrankie Pass,

With the glory of the Graemes ;
Like a true old Scottish cavalier
All of the olden time I

IV.

He never owned the foreign rule,

No master he obeyed.
But kept his clan in peace at home.

From foray and from raid ;
And when they asked him for his oath.

He touched his glittering blade,
And pointed to his bonnet blue,

That bore the white cockade :
Like a leal old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time !

At length the news ran through the land —

The Prince had come again 1
That night the fiery cross was sped

O'er mountain and through glen ;
And our old baron rose in might.

Like a iiou from his dec.

300

LAYS Of THE SCOTTISH CAVAIJERS,

And rode away across tlie hills
To Charlie and his menj
With the valiant Scottish cavaliers,
All of the olden time I

VI.

He was the first that bent the knee

When the Standard waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe

On Preston's bloody sod ;
And ever, in the van of fight,

The foremost still he trod,
Until on bleak Culloden's heath,

He gave his soul to God,
Likea good old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time I

VII.

Oh 1 never shall we know again

A heart so stout and true —
The olden times have passed away,

And weary are the new :
The fair white rose has faded

From the garden where it grew.
And no fond tears save those of heaven.

The glorious bed bedew
Of the last old Scottish cavalier,
All of the olden time I

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

BLIND OLD MILTON.

PLA.OB me once more, my daughter, where the sun

May shine upon my old and time-worn head,

For the last time, perchance. My race is run ;

And soon amidst the ever-silent dead

I must repose, it may be, half forgot.

Yes I I have broke the hard and bitter bread

For many a year, with those who trembled not

To buckle on their armour for the fight,

And set themselves against the tyrant's lot ;

And I have never bowed me to his might,

Nor knelt before him— for I bear within

My heart the sternest consciousness of right,

And that perpetual hate of gilded sin

Which made me what I am ; and though the stain

Of poverty be on me, yet 1 win

302

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

More honour bj it than the blinded train
Who hug their willing servitude, and bow
Unto the weakest and the most profane.
Therefore, with unencumbered soul I go
Before the footstool of my Maker, where
I hope to stand as undebased as now!

Child I is the sun abroad ? I fee: my hair
Borne up and wafted by the gentle wind,
I feel the odours that perfume the air.
And hear the rustling of the leaves behind.
Within my heart I picture them, and then
I almost can forget that I am blind.
And old, and hated by my fellow-men.
Yet would I fain once more behold the grace
Of nature ere I die, and gaze again
Upon her living and rejoicing face-
Fain would I see thy countenance, my child,
My comforter 1 I feel thy dear embrace—
I hear thy voice, so musical and mild,
The patient sole interpreter, by whom
So many years of sadness are beguiled ;
For it hath made my amall and scanty room
Peopled with glowing visions of the past.
But I will calmly bend me to my doom,
And wait the hour which is approaching fast.
When triple light shall stream upon mine eyes,
And heaven i .cself be opened up at last
To him who dared foretell its mysteries.
I have had visions in this drear eclipse
Of outward consciousness, and clomb the skies,
Striving to utter with my earthly lips

BLIND OLD MILTON.

What the diviner soul had half divined,

Even as the Saint in his Apocalypse

Who saw the inmost glory, where enshrined

Sat He who fashioned glory. This hath driven

All outward strife and tumult from my mind,

And humbled me, until I have forgiven

My bitter enemies, and only seek

To find the strait and narrow path to heaven.

303

Yet I am weak — oh I how entirely weak,
For one who may not love nor suffer more 1
Sometimes unbidden tears will wet my cheek.
And my heart bound as keenly as of yore,
Responsive to a voice, now hushed to rest,
Which made the beautiful Italian shore.
In all its pomp of summer vineyards drest.
An Eden and a Paradise to me.
Do the sweet breezes from the balmy west
Still murmur through thy groves, Parthenope,^
In search of odours from the orange bowers ?
Still, on thy slopes of verdure, does the bee
Cull her rare honey from the virgin flowers?
And Philomel her plaintive chant prolong
'Neath skies more calm and more serene than oura,
Making the summer one perpetual song ?
Art thou the same as when in manhood's pride
I walked in joy thy grassy meads among,
With that fair youthful vision by my side.
In whose bright eyes I looked — and not in vain ?
my adored angel I my bride I

304

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Despite of years, and woe, and want, and pain,
My soul yearns back towards thee, and I seem
To wander with ihee, hand in hand, again,
By the bright margin of that flowing stream.
I hear again thy voice, more silver-sweet
Than fancied music floating in a dream
Possess my being ; from afar I greet
The waving of thy garments in the glade,
And the light rustling of thy fairy feet—
What time as one half eager, half afraid.
Love's burning secret faltered on my tongue,
And tremulous looks and broken words betrayed
The secret of the heart from whence they sprung.
Ah me I the earth that rendered thee to heaven
Gave up an angel beautiful and young,
Spotless and pure as snow when freshly driven ;
A bright Aurora for tl starry sphere
Wl^ere all is love, and even life forgiven.
Bride of immortal beauty— ever dear I
Dost thou await me in thy blest abode I
While I, Tithonus-like, must linger here,
And count each step along the rugged road ;
A phantom, tottering to a long-made grave,
And eager to lay down my weary load I

I, who was fancy's lord, am fancy's slave.
Like the low murmurs of the Indian shell
Ta'en from its coral bed beneath the wave.
Which, unforgetful of the ocean's swell.
Retains within its mystic urn the hum
Heard in the sea-jjrrots where the Nereids dwell —
Old thoughts utill h> .v:.t me— unawares they come
Between me anc asy' v ; at, nor can I make

BLIND OLD MI LI ON.

Those ag6d visitors of borrow dumb.

Oh, yet awhile, my feeble soul, awake I

Nor wander back with sullen steps again ;

For neither pleasant pastime canst thou take

In such a journey, nor endure the pain. '

The phantoms of the past are dead for thee;

So let them ever uninvoked remain,

Ai.d be thou calm, till death shall set thee free.

Thy flo^vers of hope expanded long ago,

Long since their blossoms withered on the tree :

No second spring can come to make them blow,

But in the silent winter of the grave

They lie with blighted love and buried woe.

I did not wtfste the gifts which nature gave,
Nor slothful lay in the Circean bower ;
Nor did I yield myself the willing slave
Of lust for pride, for riches, or for power. #
No I in my heart a nobler spirit dwelt ;
For constant was my faith in manhood's dower
Man— made in God'R own image— and I felt
How of our own accord we courted shame,
Until to idols like ourselves we knelt,
And so renounced the great and glorious claim
Of freedom, our immortal heritage.
I saw how bigotry, with spiteful aim,
Smote at the searching eyesight of the sage ;
How Error stole behind the steps of Truth,
And cast delusion on the sacred page.
So, as a cLftmpion, even in early youth
I waged my battle with a purpose keen:
Nor feared the hand of terror, nor the tooth
Of sement jealousv. And T Hava hAAn

305

306 MISC]^]LLANEOUl^ POEMS.

With starry Galileo in his cell-
That wise ma^.oian with the brow serene
Who fathomed space ; and I hutre seen him tell
The wonders of the planetary sphere,
And trace the ramparts oi heaven's citad :1
On the cold flag-stones of his dungeon drear.
And I have walked with Hampden and with Vane-
Names once so gracious to an English ear-
In days that never may return again.
My voice, though not the loudest, hath been heard
Whenever Freedom raised her cry of pain
And the faint effort of the humble bard
Hath roused up thousands from their lethargy
To speak in words of thunder. What reward
Was mine, or theirs ? It matters not ; for I
Am but a leaf cast on the whirling tide
Without a hope or wish, except to die.
But truth, asserted once, must still abide,
Unquenchable, as are those fiery springs
Which day and night gush from the mountain side,
Perpetual meteors girt with lambent wings,
Which the wild tempest tosses to and fro,
But cannot conquer with the force it brings.

Yet I, who ever felt another's woo
More keenly than my own untold distress
I, who have battled with the common foe.
And broke for years the bread of bitterness j
Who never yet abandoned or betrayed
The trust vouchsafed me, nor have ceased to bless,
Am left alone to wither in the uhade,
A weak old man, deserted by his kind—
Whom none will comfort in his age, nor aid I

BLIND OLD MILTON.

307

Oh, let me not repine 1 A quiet mind,
Gonscious and upright, needs no other stay ;
Nor can I grieve for what I leave behind,
In the rich promise of eternal day.
Henceforth to me the world is dead and gone,
Its thorns unfelt, its roses jast away :
And the old pilgrim, weary and alone,
Dowed down with travel, at his Master's gat©
Now sits, his task of life-long labour done,
Thankful for rest, although it comes so late,
After sore journey through this world of sin.
In hope, and prayer, and wistfulness to wait,
Until the door shall ope and let him in.

HEEMGTIMUS.

Hermotimus, the hero of this ballad, was a philosopher,
or rather a prophet, of Clazomen^, who possessed the
lacu ty, now claimed by the animal-magnetists, of effecting
a voluntary separation between his soul and body; for the
former could wander to any part of the universe, and even
hold intercourse with supernatural beings, whilst the
senseless frame remained at home. Hermotimus, how-
ever, was not insensible to the risk attendant upon this
disunion; since, before attempting any of these aerial
flights, he took the precaution to warn his wife, lest ere
the return of his soul, the body should be rendered an
unfit or useless receptacle. This accident, which he so
much dreaded, at length occurred ; for the lady, wearied
out by a succession of trances, each of longer duration
than the preceding, one day committed his body to the
flames, and thus effectually put a stop to such unconnu-
bial conduct. He received divine honours a. Clazomen^e

but must nevertheless remain

it,.' « tviiiwic ciaiupie and

HERM0TIMU8.

309

warning to all husbands who carry their scientific or spiri-
tual pursuits so far as to neglect their duty to their
wives.

It is somewhat curious that Hermotimus is not the
only person (putting the disciples of Mesmer and Dupotet
altogether out of the question) who has possessed this
miraculous power. Another and much later instance is
recorded by Dr George Cheyne, in his work entitled The
English Malady, or a Ireatise on Nervous Diseases, m
having come under his own observation ; and as this case
is exactly similar to that of the Prophet, it may amuse
the reader to see how far an ancient fable may be illus-
trated, and in part explained, by the records of modern
science. Dr Cheyne's patient was probably cataleptic;
but the worthy physician must be allowed to tell his own
story : —

"Colonel Townshend, a gentleman of honour and
integrity, had for many years been afflicted with a
nephritic complaint. His illness increasing, and his
strength decaying, he came from Bristol to Bath in a
litter, in autumn, and lay at the Bell Inn. Dr Bavnard
and I were called to him, and attended him twice a-day ;
but his vomitings continuing still incessant and obstinate
against all remedies, we despaired of his recovery. While
he was in this condition, he sent for us one morning : we
waited on him with Mr Skrine his apothecary. We found
his senses clear, and his mind calm : his nurse and several
servants were about him. He told us he had sent for us
to give him an account of an odd sensation he had for
some time observed and felt in himself; which was, that
by composing himself, he could die or expire when he
pleased ; and yet by an effort, or somehow, he could come

310

MISCELLANUOUS POEMS.

to life again, which he had sometimes tried before he sent
for us. We heard this with surprise ] but, as it was not
to be accounted for upon common principles, we could
hardly believe the fact as he related it, much less give any
account of it, unless he should please to make the experi-
ment before us, which we were unwilling he should do,
lest, in his weak condition, he might carry it too far. He
continued to talk very distinctly and sensibly above a
quarter of an hour about this surprising sensation, and
insisted so much on our seeing the trial made, that we
wore at last forced to comply. We all three felt his pulse
first— it was distinct, though small and thready, and his
heart had its usual beating. He composed himself on
his back, and lay in a still posture for some time : while I
held his right hand Dr Baynard laid his hand on his
heart, and Mr Skrine held a clean looking-glass to his
mouth. I found his pulse sink gradually, tiU at last I
could not find any by the most exact and nice touch. Dr
Baynard could not feel the least motion in his heart, nor
Mr Skrine the least soil of breath on the bright mirror he
held to his mouth; then each of us by turns examined
his arm, heart, and breath, but could not, by the nicest
scrutiny, discover the least symptom of life in him. We
reasoned a long time about this odd appearance as well as
we could, and all of us judging it inexplicable and un-
accountable; and, finding he still continued in that
condition, we began to conclude that he had indeed carried
the experiment too far; and at last were satisfied he was
actually dead, and were just ready to leave him. This
continued about half an hour. As we were going away,
we observed some motion about the body; and, upon
^«.««iiii«t,ivu, ivuuu lua puiBu auu tne mouon of ins lieart

EERMOTIMUS.

311

gradually returning. He began to breathe gently and
speak softly. We were all astonished to the last degree
at this unexpected change ; and, after some further con-
versation with him, and among ourselves, went away fully
satisfied as to all the particulars of this fact, but confounded
and puzzled, and not able to form any rational scheme
that might account for it."

HERMOTIMFS.

« Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber ? •

Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest ;
Sleep will bring thee dreams in starry number-
Let him come to thee and be thy guest.
Midnight now is past-
Husband 1 come at last

Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast*"

« Weary am 1, but my soul is waking ;

Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side,
But my spirit then, its home forsaking,
Thro' the realms of space would wander wide-
Eyerything forgot.
What would be thy lot,
If I came not back to thee, my bride 1

HERM0T1MU8.

813

III.

*' Music, like the lute of young Apolloy
Vibrates even now ■within mine ear;

Soft and silver voices bid ue follow —

Yet my soul is dull and will not hear.

Waking it will stay :

Let me watch till day — '

«
Painter will they come and disappear."

IV.

" Speak not thus to me, my own — my dearest I

These are but the phantoms of thy brain ;
Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest,
Thou shalt wake to love and life again.
Were thy sleep thy last,
I would hold thee fast —
Thou shouldst strive against me, bat in vain.

" Eros will protect us, and will hover,

Guardian-like, above thee all the night,
Jealous of thee, as of some fond lover
Chiding back the rosy-fingered light-
He will be thine aid :
Canst thou feel afraid
When his torch above us burneth bright ?

VI.

" Lo ! the cressets of the night are waning,

Old Orion hastens from the sky ;
Only thou of all things art remaining
Unrefreshed by slumber — '^lou and I.
Sound and sense are still,
Even the distant rill
Murmurs fainter now, and languidly.

314

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

VII.

" Come and rest thee, husband ! "—and no longer

Could the young man that fond call resist :
Vainly was he warned, for love was stronger—
Warmly did he press her to his breast.
Warmly met she his:
Kiss succeeded kiss,
Till their eyelids closed, with sleep oppressed.

VIII.
Soon Aurora left her early pillow,

And the heavens grew rosy-rich and rare ;
Laughed the dewy plain and glassy billow,
For the Golden God himself was there ;
And the vapour-screen
Rose the hills between,
Steaming up, like incense, in the air.

IX.
O'er her husband sat lone bending—

Marble-like and marble-hued he lay;
Underneath her raven locks descending.
Paler seemed his face and ashen grey •
And so white his brow,
White and cold as snow—
" Husband !— Gods I his soul hath passed away I"

Raise ye up the pile with gloomy shadow-
Heap it with the mournful cypress-bough !—
And they raised the pile upon the meadow,
And they heaped the mournful cypress too ;
And they laid the dead
On bis funeral bed,
And they kindled up the flames below.

EERM0TIMU8'

315

Night again was come ; but oh, how lonely

To the mourner did that night appear!
Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only,
Vain repinings and unwonted fear.
Dimly burned the lamp-
Chill the air and damp —
And the winds without were moaning drear.

XII.
Hush ! a voice in solemn whispers speaking,

Breaks within the twilight of the room ;
And lone, loud and wildly shrieking,
Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom.
Nothing sees she there —
All is empty air,
All is empty as a rifled tomb.

XIII.
Once again the voice beside her sounded,

Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone —
" " " hv form nor sh ide am I surrounded,
/ . jme and dwelling have I none.

"Q passed away —
V - is me I to-day
Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone.

XIV.

" Vainly were the words of parting spoken ;

Ever more must Charon turn from me.
Still my thread of life remains unbroken,
And unbroken ever it must be ;
Only they may rest
Whom the Fates' behest
From their mortal mansion setteth free.

316

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

XV.

" I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten-
Seen him wave atiar his serpent wand ;
But to me the Herald would not listen-
When the dead swept by at his command,
Not with that pale crew
Durst I venture too —
Ever shut for me the quiet land.

XVI.

" Day and night before the dreary portal,

Phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie ;
None of heavenly kind, nor yet of mortal,
May unchallenged pass the warders by.
None that path may go,
If he cannot show
His drear passport to eternity.

xvir.

" Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest—

Fatal, Apollo, was thy love I
Pythian I Archer I brightest God and bravest.
Hear, oh hear me (rom thy throne above I
Let me not, I pray,
Thus be cast away ;
Plead for me, thy slave—0 plead to Jove I

xvm.

« I have heard thee with the Muses singing-
Heard that full melodious voice of thine.

Silver-clear throughout the ether ringing-
Seen thy locks in golden clusters shine ;
And thine eye so bright,

Hath ere now been bent so low as mine.

HERMOTIMUS.

317

XIX.
" Hast thou lost the wish— the will— to cherish

Those who trusted in thy godlike power?
Hyacinthus did not wholly perish 1
Still he lives, the firstling of thy bower;
Still he feels thy rays,
Fondly meets thy gaze,
Though but now the spirit of a flower.

XX.

" Hear me, Ph^jebus ! Hear me and deliver!

Lo 1 the morning breaketh from afar —
God ! thou comest bright and great as ever —
Night goes back before thy burning car ;
All her lamps are gone —
Lucifer alone
Lingers still for thee—the blessed star!

XXI.

" Hear me, Phoebus ! "—And therewith descended

Through the window-arch a glory-gleam.
All effulgent— and with music blended ;
For such solemn sounds arose as stream
From the Memnon-lyre,
When the morning fire
Gilds the giant's forehead with its beam.

XXII.

" Thou hast heard thy servant's prayer, Apollo 1

Thou dost call me, mighty God of Day!
Fare-thee-well, lone ! "—And more hollow
Came the phantom voice, then died away.
When the slaves arose,
Not in calm repose —
Not in sleep^but death, their mistress lay.

(ENONE.

On the holy mount of Ida,

Where the pine and cypress grow,
Sate a young and lovely woman,

Weeping ever, weeping low.
Drearily throughout the forest

Did the winds of autumn blow,
And the clouds above were flying

And Scamander rolled below.

" Faithless Paris I cruel Paris I"
Thus the poor deserted spake—

« Wherefore thus so strangely leave me?
Why thy loving bride forsake?

Why no tender word at parting-
Why no kiss, no farewell take?

Would that I could but forget thee !

!.u luro imuwwiug ucari mignt DreaJt!

(ENONE^

" Is my face no lon^^r blooming ?

Aro my eyes no longer bright?
Ah I my tears have made them dimmer,

And my cheeks aro palo and white.
I have wept since early morning,

I shall weep the livelong night;
Now I long for sullen darkness,

As I once have longed for light.

** Paris 1 canst thou then be cruel I

Fair, and young, and brave thou art —
Can it be that in thy bosom

laes so cold, so hard a heart?
Children were we bred together —

She who bore me suckled thee j
I have been thine old companion,

When thou hadst no more but me.

319

" I haT e watched thee in thy slumbers,

When the shadow of a dream
Passed across thy smiling features,

Like the ripple on a stream ;
And so sweetly were the visions

Pictured there with lively grace,
That I half could read their import

By the changes on thy face.

" When I sang of Ariadne,
Sang the old and mournful tale,

How her faithless lover, Theseus,
Left her to lament and wail j

320 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Then thine eyes would fill and glisten,
Her complaint could soften thee :

Thou hast wept for Ariadne^
Theseus' self might weep for me I

Thou may'st find another maiden

With a fairer face than mine—
With a gayer voice and sweeter,

And a spirit liker thine ;
For if e'er my beauty bound thee.

Lost and broken is the spell ;
But thou canst not find another

That will love thee half so well.

" thou hollow ship, that bearest

Paris o'er the faithless deep I
Wouldst thou leave him on some island

Where alone the waters weep ;
Where no humat foot is moulded

In the wet and yellow sand-
Leave him there, thou hollow vessel!

Leave him on that lonely strand I

" Then his heart will surely soften,

When his foolish hopes decay.
And his older love rekindle,

As the new one dies away.
Visionary hills will haunt him,

Rising from the glassy sea.
And his thoughts will wander homeward

Unto Ida and to uw.

(ENONE.

« 1 that like a little swallow
I could reach that lonely spot I

All his errors would be pardoned,

• AW the weary past forgot.

Never should he wander from me—
Never should he more depart;

For these arms would be his prison,
And his home would be my heart 1 "

Thus lamented fair CEnone,

Weeping ever, weeping low,
On the holy Mount of Ida,

Where the pine and cypress grow.
In the self-same hour Cassandra

Shrieked her prophecy of woe,
And into the Spartan dwelling

Did the faithless Paris go.

Z2r\

THE BUEIED FLOWER.

In the silence of my chamber,
When the night is still and deep,

And the drowsy heave of ocean
Mutters in its charmed sleep,

Oft I hear the angel voices

That have thrilled me long ago,—
Voices of my lost companions,

Lying deep beneath the snow.

IIL

0, the garden I remember,
In the gay and sunny spring.

When our laughter made the thickets
And the arching alleys ring t

THE BURIED FLOWER.

323

IV.

the merry burst of gladness I

the soft aud tender tone I
the whisper never uttered

Save to one fond ear alone I

the light of life that sparkled
In those bright and bounteous eyes I

the blush of happy beauty,
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise I

VI.

the radiant light that girdled
Field and forest, land and sea^

When we all were young together,
And the earth was new to mel

VII.

Where are now the flowers we tended ?

Withered, broken, branch and stem ;
Where are now the hopes we cherished ?

Scattered to the winds with them.

VIII.

For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones !

Nursed in hope and reared in love,
Looking fondly b/er upwai'd

To the clear blue hea,ven above :

IX.

Smiling on the sun that cheered ua,
Rising lightly from the rain.

Never folding up your freshness
Save to give it forth again:

324

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Never shaketa, save by accent?

From a tongue that was not free,
As the modest blossotti trembles

At the wooing of the bee.

XI.
1 ^tis sad to lie and reckon

All the days of faded youth,
All the vows that we believed in.

Ail the words we spoke in truth.

XII.
Severed — ^were it severed only

By an idle thought of strife,
Such as time may knit together ;

Not the broken chord of life I

XIII.
my heart 1 that once so truly

Kept another's time and tune ;
Heart, that kindled in the morning,

Look around thee in the noon I

XIV.
Where are they who gave the impulse

To thy earliest thought and flow?
Look across the ruined garden---

All are withered, drooped, or low I

XV.

Seek the birthplace of the Lily^
Dearer to the boyish dream

Than the golden cups of Eden,
Floating on its slumberous stream ;

TJSE BURIED FLOWER,

XVI.

Never more shalt thou behold her-
She, the noblest, fairest, best :

She that rose in fullest beauty,
Like a queen, above the rest.

xvn.

Only still I keep her image
As a thought that cannot die ;

He who raised the shade of Helen
Had no greater power than I.

XVIII.
1 I fling my spirit backward,

And I pass o'er years of pain r
All I loved is rising round me,

All the lost returns again.

XIX.

Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes,
Warmly as ye did before

Bloom again, ye happy gardens,
With the radiant tints of yore I

XX.

Warble out in spray and thicket,
All ye choristers unseen,;

Let the leafy woodland echo
With an anthem to its queen i

XXL

Lo ! she Cometh in her beauty,
Stately with a Juno grace,

Raven locks. Madonna-braided
O'er her sweet and blushiiig &ce :

;8;26

f
*■

326

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

XXII.
Eyes of deepest riolet, beaming

With the love that knows not shame-
Lips, that thrill my inmost being,

With the utterance of a name.

XXIII.
And I bend the knee before her,

As a captive ought to bow, —
Pray thee, listen to my pleading,

Sovereign of my soul art tboul

XXIV.

my dear and gentle lady I
Let me show thee all my pain,

Ere the words that late were prisoned
Sink into my heart again.

XXV.
Love, they say, is very fearful

Ere its curtain be withdrawn.
Trembling at the thought of error

As the shadows scare the fawn.

XXVI.
Love hath bound me to thee, lady

Since the well-remembered day
When I first beheld thee coming

In the light of lustrous May.

XXVII.

Not a word I dared to utter-
More than he who, long ago,

Saw the heavenly shapes descending
Over Ida's slopes of snow;

THE JBURlSn FLOWER.

327

XXVIII.
When a low and solemn mnsio

Floated through the listening grove,
And the throstle's song was silenced,

And the doling of the dove :

XXIX.

When immortal beauty opened

All its charms to mortal sight,
And the awe of worship blended
With the throbbing of delight.

XXX.

As the shepherd stood before them
Trembling in the Phrygian dell,

Even 80 my soul and being
Owned the magic of the spell;

XXXI.

And I watched thee ever fondly,
Watched thee, dearest ! from afar,

With the mute and humble homage
Of the Indian to a star.

XXXII.
Thou wert still the lady Flora

In her morning garb of bloom ;
Where thou wert was light and glory.

Where thou wert not, dearth and gloom.

XXXIII.
So for many a dtij I followed.

For a long and weary while,
Ere my heart rose up to bless thee

For the yielding of a smile,—

328

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

XXXIV.

Bre thy worda were few and broken
As they answered back to mine^

Bre my lips had power to thank thee
For the gift vouchsafed by thine.

XXXV.

Then a mighty gush of passion
Throuich my inmost being ran ;

Then my older life was ended,
And a dearer coarse began.

XXXVI.
Dearer !— 1 I cannot tell thee

What a load was swept away^
What a world of doubt and darkness

Faded in the dawning day I

XXXVII.

All my error, all my weakness.
All my vain delusions fled ;

Hope again revived, and gladness
Waved its wings above my head.

xxxvin.
Like the wanderer of the desert,

When, across the dreary sand,
Breathes the perfume from the thickets

Bordering on the promised land :

XXXIX.

When afar he sees the palm-trees
Cresting o'er the lonely well,

When he hears the pleasant tinkle
Of the distant camel's bell :

TEE 1 U&IED WLOWEM,

XL,

So a fresh and glad emotion
Rose within my swelling breast^

And I hurried swiftly onwards
To the haven of my rest.

XLI.

Thou wert there with word and welcome,
With thy smile so purely sweet ;

And I laid my heart before thee,
Laid it, darling! at thy fee t.——

xm.

ye words that sound so hollow

As I now recall your tone I
What are ye but empty echoes

Of a passion crushed and gone?

XLIII.
Wherefore should I seek to kindle

Light, when all around is gloom?
Wherefore should I raise a phantom

O'er the dark and silent tcnnb?

XLIV.
Early wert thou taken, Mary!

In thy fair and glorious prime.
Ere the bees had ceased to n^urmur

Through the umbrage of the lime.

XLV.
Buds were blowing, waters flowing.

Birds were singing on the tree,
Everything was bright and glowing.

When thq angols CauiO fur tucO.

a3o

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

XLVI.

Death had laid aside his terror,
And he found thee calm and mild.

Lying in thy robes of whiteness,
Like a pure and stainless child.

XLVII.
Hardly had the mountain-violet

Spread its blossoms on the sod,
Ere they laid the turf abo\?e thee,

And thy spirit rose to God.

XLVIII.
Early wert thou taken, Mary I

And I know 'tis vain to weep —
Tears of mine can never wake thee

From thy sad and silent sleep.

XLIX.
away I my thoughts are earthward I

Not asleep, my love, art thou I
Dwelling in the land of glory

With the saints and angels now.

Brighter, fairer far than living,
With no trace of woe or pain.

Robed in everlasti'^'r beauty,
Shall I see thee oLce again,

LI.

By the light that never fadeth.

Underneath eternal skies,
When the dawn of resurrection

Breaks o'er deathless Paradise.

THE OLD CAMP.

WRITTlj« IN A ROMAN PORTIFIOATION IN BAVARIA.

There is a cloud before the sun,

The wmd is hushed and still,
And silently the waters run

Beneath the sombre hill.
The sky is dark in every place

As is the earth below : ,

Methinks it wore the self-same face

Two thousand years ago.

II.

No I'urht is on the ancient wall,
No> light upon the mound ;

The very trees, so thick and tall,
Cast gloom, not shade, around.

So silent is the place aud cold,
So far from humau ken,

It hath a look that makes me old,

LiiCi

etv\r^y%rvt\n

332

MISCELLANEOUS P0UM3.

III.

I listen, half in thought to hear

The Roman trumpet blow —
I search for glint of helm and spear

Amidst the fori ' bough ;
And armour rings, and voices swell—

I hear the legion's tramp,
And mark the lonely sentinel

Who guards the lonely camp.

IV.

Methinka I have no other home,

No other hearth to find ;
For nothing save the thought of Rome

Is stirring in my mind.
And all that I have heard or dreamed.

And all I had forgot,
Are rising up, as though they seemed

The household of the spot,

And all the names that Romans knev

Seem just as known to me,
As if I were a Roman too —

A Roman born and free :
And I could rise at Caesar's name,

As though it were a charm
To draw sharp lightning from the tame,

And brace the coward's arm.

THE OLD CAMP.

333

VI.

And yet if yonder sky were blue,

And earth were sunny gay,
If nature wore the witching hue

That decked her yesterday—
The mound, the trench, the rampart's space

Would move me nothing more
Than many a sweet sequestered place

That I have marked before.

VII.

I could not feel the breezes bring

Rich odours from the trees,
I could not hear the linnets sing.

And think on themes like these.
The painted insects as they pass

In swift and motley strife,
The very lizard in the gras ,

Would scare me back to life.

VIII.

Then is the past so gloomy now

That it may never bear.
The open smile of nature's brow,

Or meet t' e sunny air ?
I know not that— but joy is power,

However short it last ;
And joy befits the present hour,

If sadness fits the past.

DANUBE AND THE EUXINE.

1848.

" Danube, Danube I wherefore com'st thou

Red and raging to my caves ?
Wherefore leap thy swollen waters

Madly through the broken waves?
Wherefore is thy tide so gullied

With a hue unknown to me ;
Wherefore dost thou bring pollution

To the old and sacred sea ? "
" Ha 1 rejoice, old Father Euxine I

I am brimming full and red ;
Glorious tokens do I bring thee

From my distant channel-bed.
I have been a Obristian river

Dull and slow this many a year,
Rolling down my torpid waters

Through a silence morne and drear;
Have not felt the tread of armies

Trampling on my reedy shore;
Have not heard the trumpet calling,

Or the cannon's echoing roar;

DANUBE AND THE EUXINE.

Only listened to the laughter

From the village and the town,
And the church-bells, ever jangling,

As the weary day went down.
So I lay and sorely pondered

On the days long since gone by,
When my old primaeval forests

Echoed to the war-man's cry ;
"When the race of Thor and Odin

Held their battles by my side,
And the blood of man was mingling

Warmly with my chilly tide.
Father Euxine 1 thou rememb'rest

How I brought thee tribute then —
Swollen corpses, gashed and gory,

Heads and limbs of slaughtered men?
Father Euxine I be thou joyful 1

I am running red once more —
Not with heathen blood, as early,

But with gallant Christian gore
For the old times are returning.

And the Cross is broken down,
And I hear the tocsin sounding

In the village and the town :
And the glare of burning cities

Soon shall light me on my way —
Hal my heart is big and jocund

With the draught I drank to-day.
Ha ! I feel my strength awakened,

And my brethren shout to me ;
Each is leaping red and joyous

To his own awaiting sea.

335

3D6

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

Rhine and Elbe are plunging downward

Through their wild anarchic land,
Everywhere are Christians falling

By their brother Christians' hand !
Yea, the old times are returning.

And the olden gods are here I
Take my tribute, Father Euxine,

To thy waters dark and drear I
Therefore come I with my torrents,

Shaking castle, crag, and town ;
Therefore, with my arms uplifted,

Sweep I herd and herdsman down ;
Therefore leap I to thy bosom

With a loud triumphal roai^—
Greet me, greet me. Father Euxine —

I am Christian stream no more 1"

THE SCHEIK OF SIJfAI

Hi 1830.

VBOU THB GERMAN OV HtEILIGRATH.

"Lift me without the tent, I say, —

Me and my ottoman, —
I'll see the messenger myself I
It is the caravan
From Africa, thou sayest,
And they bring us news of war ?
Draw me without the tent, and quick

As at the desert-well
The freshness of the bubbling stream
Delights the tired gazelle,
So pant I for the voice of him
That cometh from afar!"

338

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

II.

The Scheik was lifted from his tent,

And thus outspake the Moor :

" I saw, old Chief, the Tricolor
On Algiers' topmost tower—
Upon its battlements the silks
Of Lyons flutter free.
Each morning, in the market-place,

The muster-drum is beat.
And to the waf-hjmn of Marseilles
The squadrons pace the street.
The armament from Toulon sailed
The Franks have crossed the sea.

III. ♦

" Towards the south the columns marched

Beneath a cloudless sky
Their weapons glittered in the blaze
Of the sun of Barbary ;
And with the dusty desert sand
Their horses' manes were white.
The wild marauding tribes dispersed

In terror of their lives ;
They fled unto the mountains
With their children and their wives
And urged the clumsy dromedary
Up the Atlas' height.

IV.

" The Moors have ta'ea their vantage-ground

The volleys thunder fast—
The dark defile is blazing

Like a heated oven-blast.

THE SCSEIK OF SIKAI.

The Lion hears the strange turmoil,
And leaves his mangled prey —
Ko place was that for him to feed —

And thick and loud the cries,
Feu ! Allah ! — Allah ! En avant I
In mingled discord rise :
The Franks have reached the dummit ;
They have won the victory I

" With bristling steel, upon the top

The victors take their stand;
Beneath their feet, with all its towns,
They see the promised land —
From Tunis, even unto Fez,
From Atlas to the seas.
The cavaliers alight to gaze ;

And gaze full well they may.
Where countless minarets stand up
So solemnly and grey.

Amidst the dark-green masses
Of the flowering mrytle-trees.

339

VI.

" The almond blossoms in the vale,

The alou from the rock
Throws out its long and prickly leaves,
Nor dreads the tempest's shock :
A blessed land, I ween, is that,
Though luckless is its Bey.
There lies the sea — beyond lies France !
Her banners in the air
W

340

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Float proudly and triumphantly —
A salvo I come, prepare !
And loud and long the mountains rang
With that glad artillery."

VII.

" 'Tis they ! " exclaimed the aged Scheik.

" I've battled by their side—
I fought beneath the Pyramids 1
That day of deathless pride —
Ked as thy turban, Moor, thrt eve,
Was every creek in Nile I
But tell me"— and he griped his hand-—

" Their Sultaun ? Stranger, say, —
His form — his face— his gesture, man —
Thou saw'st him in the fray ?
His eye— what wore he ?" ^ But the Moor
Sought in his vest awhile.

VIII.

" Their Sultaun, Scheik, remains at home

Within his palace walls ;
He sends a Pasha in his stead
To brave the bolts and balls.
He was not there. An Aga burst
For him through Atlas' hold.
Yet I can show thee somewhat too ;

A Frankish Cavalier
Told me his effigy was stamped
Upon this medal here —
He gave it me with others
For an Arab steed I sold."

THE SCHEIE OF SINAI,

341

IX.

The old man took the golden coin :

Gazed steadfastly awhile,
If that could be the Sultaun
Whom from the banks of Nile
He guided o'er the desert path?—
Then sighed and thus spake he—
'"Tis not his eye— 'tis not hia brow—
Another face is there ;

I never saw this man before

His head is like a pear I
Take back thy medal, Moor— 'tis not
That which I thought to see,"

EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE
KANARIS.

VBOM THB OBRUAN OV WILHELlf MOLLBB.

I AM Constantine Eanaris.

I, who lie beneath this stone,
Twice into the air in thunder

Have the Turkish galleys blown.

In my bed I died — a Christian,
Hoping straight with Christ to be ;

Yet one earthly wish is buried
Deep within the grave with me —

That upon the open ocean.
When the third Armada uame,

They and I had died together,
Whirled aloft on wings of flame.

Yet 'tis something that they've laid me

In a land without a stain :
Keep it thus, my God and Saviour,

Till I rise from carta ugaiu !

THE EEFTJSAL OF CHARON.*

FROM THK ROMAIC.

Why look the distant moantaina

So gloomy and so drear ?
Are rain- clouds passing o'er them,

Or is the tempest near?
No shadow of the tempest

Is there, nor wind nor rain —
'Tis Charon that is passing by,

With all his gloomy train.

The young men march before him,

In all their strength and pride :
The tender little infants,

They totter by his side ;
The old men walk behind him,

And earnestly they pray —
Both young and old imploring him

To grant some brief delay.

* Accordinfirto the superstition of the modern Greeks, Charon performs
the function which their ancestors assigned to Hermes, of conducting
thr -ovUb of the dead to the other world.

344

MISCELLAITEOCIS POEMS.

"0 Charon 1 halt, we pray thee,

By yonder little town,
Or near that sparkling fountain,

Where the waters wimple down I
The old will drink and be refreshed,

The young the disc will fling,
And the tender little children

Pluck flowers beside the spring."

" I will not stay my Journey,

Nor halt by any town
Near any sparkling fountain,

Where the waters wimple down:
The mothers coming to the well

Would know the babes they bore ;
The wives would clasp their husbands.

Nor could I part them more."

APPENDIX.

EXAMINATION OF THE STATEMENTS IN MR MACAULAY'S
HISTORY OF ENGLAND, REGARDING JOHN GRAHAME OF
OLAVERHOUSE, VISCOUNT OP DUNDEE.

" Discarding modern historians, who in too many instances do not
teem to entertain the slightest scruple in dealing with the memorg q/
the dead."

Preface to Bdrial-March op Dundee— P. 196.

3iNCE the first edition of this volume wag published, Mr Macau-
lay's long-promised History of England has beea given to the
r/ublic. Witl'.otit wishing in any way to detract from the general
merits of a work which has already attained so great popularity,
but, on the contrary, acknowledging with gratitude the delight I
have received fiomits perusal, I must take the liberty of challeng-
ing its accurae^y with regard to many of the details referring to
Scottish events, more especially those connected with the proceed-
ings which were instituted against the Covenanters. With tho
political conclusions drawi by the learned and accomplished
author, I have of course nothing to do; thesafall within the sphere
of private judgment ; a id though I difF r from him very largely in
his estimate both of m^ n and m^^asures, I am not entitled to enter
into such an argument But the facts set forth by an historian are
public pronerty, and I shall now proceed to examine the charges
which Mr Macaulay has brought against Lord Dundee, and the
authoi'itieB upou which those charges have been fuuuuod.

346

APPENDIX.

With reference to the proceedings In the west of Scotland Axiv
hig the year 168% Mr Macaulay says: «< Those shires in which the
tovenanters were most numerous wort, given up to the licence of
the army With the army was mingled a militia, composed of the
most violent and profligate of those who called themselves Epis-
copalians. Pre-eminent among the hands which oppressed and
wasted these unhappy districts were the dragoons commanded by
James Graham of Claverhouse. The story ran that these wicked
men used in their revels to play at the torments of hell, and to call
each other by the names of devils and damned souls. The chief
of this Toi.het on earth, a soldier of dfstinguished courage and pro-
fessional skill, but rapacious and profane, of violent temper and
of obdurate heart, has left a name which, wherever the Scottish
race is settled on the face of the globe, is mentioned with a pecu-
liar energy of hatred." ^

These are hard words : let us now see how they are iustified

The name which has been left by "the chief of this Tophet on

earth is at all events not that which has been set forth by Mr

Macaulay in his History. There never was any such person as

James Graham of Claverhouse. We know indeed of one James

Grahame who was conspicuous in Scottish history, and his name

has ere now been exposed to as much calumny and vituperation

a IS still lavished on his gallant relative; but loyalists venerate

him as the great Marquess of Montrose. John Grahams of Claver-

house we know also, and men spe^k of him as the Viscount of

neitht\ ^"*f ^^^^^'^"'^^'^J^^^^G-bamweknownothing;
neither has that name, as applied to Claverhouse, a place in any
accredited history save his own. F «"« any

Jl^l^ *^^'^'' '"l*"^ *° ^"'''* "P^'^ » ^^«*^^e, which, howerer.
ont ^ imCt "^"^ V '""^"^ ''^'^' ^'^'^'""^ ' ^'^^ ^* '^^^' ^ith^
Seotlinr^T r'- ^" ™"° ''^"^ ^^™'^'*^ ^'^^ *he history of
Sco land could have committed such a blunder ; he might just as
well have telked of the good Sir Joshua of Douglas, or of Tobias
Randolph, Earl of Moray. And, therefore, in rfpeated insane s
when Scotland or :he Scots are mentioned, we find Mr Macau-

TTe'^nrf °°' r* T""""' ""''^ *^^ ^^^•"^'•^ ^«««^^« °f history.
^^t^iJ^ T7 'a'' ?*''"'°* '^^' "'^' Scottish people" had
'butchered their first James in his bedchamber," which is just
about as correct as if we were to say that the people of France
butchered Henry IV., because that monmh was a s^ssinat^d by

■t?'

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 347

Ravillac, or that the British nation approves of regicide becanse
a man.ac has fired at the Queen ! Surely Mr Macaulay, before
exerting his rhetoric to blacken the character of so eminent a
personage as Lord Dundee, might have taken the trouble to
consult some record of the peerage for his name.

Mr Macaulay is pleased to stigmatise Cluverhouse by usfng the
ep.thet rapacious." This is al together a new charge, and for it
he has not vouchsafed the slightest authority. Cruel, bloody, and
profane are epithets with which we are familiar ; writers on the
Covenanting side have used them over and over again • and if the
narratives upon which they proceed, and whichmany of them con-
Spr^^.""'' T' '^"*'^«"^'^«ted, they are unquestionably
wo ffoenfr7'°i; ^"^^^P'^'^'^J^'^'I^^Peat.anewcharge. The
worst foe of Claverhouse never yet hinted that there was anything
. ean or sord-d in his disposition. No instance of bribery can be
alleged against him ; he levied no contributions; and with every
opportunity within his reach of amassing a large fortune, he died
in comparative poverty. I am certain that no man really acquaint-
ed with Scottish history, whatever be his political or traditional
opinions, will gainsay me in this; and as this particular charge
has been brought forward without a shadow of authontv to sup-
port It I can only express my regret that an authorwhocan write
so well should be so reckless in the choice of his epithets.

The "profanity" imputed to Claverhouse deserves a few words
So far as I can discover, the charge is founded upon certain expres-
sions said to have been used by him immediately after John Brown
the carrier of Priestfield, was shot. If used, the charge is amply
proven. 1 shall presently have occasion to consider the historical
vouchers for this remarkable story, upon which so great stress has
been laid, and to state my grounds for maintaining that it is utterly
unworthy of credence. In the meantime, and as to the general
charge, I shall content myself by quoting the words of a witness
who was personally acquainted with Dundee, and whose testimony
IS liable to no other exception, save what may be cast upon him in
his capacity of a gentleman and a Jacobit?. « His Lordship was
BO nice in point of honqur, and so true to his word, that he never
was known once to break it. From this exactness it was that he
once lost the opportunity of an easy victory over Mackay in Strath-
spey, by dismissing Captain Forbes ; who, meeting the two troop-
ers sent by the Lord Kilsyth, not only discovered thatintelliu-Pncfi.

348

APPENDIX.

IT". . "!lf^^°"^^°°^ «f tfa« ^\%U^n^ army, as 1 have fomerly
re ated. Th.s ,s the only real error chargeable in his conduct
while he commanded in this war. But this is the more excusable
hat jt proceeded from a principle of religion, whereof he was
tnctly observant ; for, besides family worship performed regular!
ly evening and morning at his house, he retired to his closet at
certam hours and employed himself in that duty. This I affirm
upon the testimony of severals that lived in his neighbourhood ia
Edinburgh, where his office of Privy Councillor often obliged him
to be ; and particularly from a Presbyterian lady who lived lonff
m the story or house immediately below his Lordship's, and who
was otherwise so rigid in her opinions that she could not believe
a good thing of any person of his persuasion, till his conduct recti-
fied her mistake." *

As for the general morality of the dragoons, I do not feel myself
called upon to prove that tliey were faultless patterns of virtue.
I shall not aver, as Mr Macaulay has done of the Puritans " that
in that singular camp, no riot was heard, no drunkenness or gam-
blmg was seen." I believe that austerity was never vet the pre-
vailmg characteristic of any barrack, and I should be sorry to
overstate my case by random laudations even of the Scottish Life
txuards. But when we are gravely told that these soldiers " used
in their revels to play at the torments of hell, and to call each
other by the names of devils and damned souls," one's curiosity is
certainly excited. The pastime is fortunately not a conimon one •
It was not recommended in the Book of Sports, which gave such
exo^eedmg oftence to the Puritans : and the nomenclat .re alleged
to be employed would imply an intimate knowIe<ige of Demon-
ology far rom usual with the soldiery of that period. I look to
Mr Macaulay's note for his authority, and I find it appended in
the shape of the venerated name of Wodrow

English readers can hardly be supposea to know what manner
of man tins Wodrow was, whom, in preference to any other chroni-
cler, Mr Macaulay has thought fit to follow with rcfere ice to that
period of Scottish history. It may theref .re be proper, very shortlv
to give a brief account of his writings, style, notions, and credit
Dility.

Robert Wodrow, minister at Eastwood, is tolerablv well known
to Scottish a itiquaries as the author of two works-the llktory

* Memoirs of Sir ihoen Cameron qf Loche ill.

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

349

of the Church of Scotland, and the Analecta, or Materials for a His-
tory of Remarkable Providences, mostly relating to Scotch Ministers
and Christians. He was bora in 1679, was consequently a mere
child at the time of the Revolution, and gave his History to the
world in 1721. That History, according to his own account, was
compiled partly from existing documents, and partly from the nar-
rative of persons who had orally communicated with the author;
and a most extraordinary history it is, in every sense of the word!
Born in a credulous age, Wodrow was endowed with a power of
credulity which altogether transcended bounds. He has not nn-
aptly been styled the Scottish Aubrey, though Aubrey by the side
of Wodrow would almost appear a sceptic. The Romish miracles
sink into iasig lificance compared with those recorded h- Mr
Macaulay's pet authority. But for the numerous, though possibly
uninteitional profanities, and the grossness of some of the anec-
dotes which are scattered over its pages, the Analecta would be
pleasant readiig. We learn from Wodrow how Elizabeth Ken-
nedy, sister to Hugh Kennedy, Provost of Ayr, being extremely
ill of sto le, declined submitting to a surgical operation, and how
the calculus was miraculously dissolved at the intercession of a
prayer-meeting assembled in her house. We read of corpses sit-
ting up in bed, announcing to the terrified mourners the judgments
of anotl^er world; of Mr Johi Campbell of Oraigie, minister, who
had an interview with the devil— not, however, unprofitably, for he
thereby escaped eating a poisoned hen for sapper; of rats which
were se it as special warnings to the Reverend Mr David William-
son ; of the ghost of a barbir which appeared to the Reverend Mr
William Leslie ; of a gifted horse in Annandale, which could cure
the king's evil ; and of a thousand similar instances of ludicrous
superstition. These anecdotes are not confined to private individu-
als — for persons of note and name are made to figure in the pages
of Wodrow. Take as an exfiraple the following morceau of history,
gravely narrated of Archbisho[) Sharpe : '' At another time. Arch-
bishop Sharpe, presiding in the Privy Oouncil, was earnest to have
Janet Douglas brought before that board, accusing her of sorcery
and witchcraft. Wlien she was brousrht, she vindicated herself of
that alleged crime ; declaring, thongh she knew very well who
were witches, yet she was not one herself, f )r she was endeavour-
ing to discover those secret hellish plots, and to countermine the
kingdom of darkness. The Archbishop insisted she might be sent

350

APPENDIX.

away to the Kingr's plantations in the West Indies. She only
dropt one word to the Bishop:-' My Lord/ says she, 'who was
you with in y,)nr closet on Saturday night last, betwixt twelve
and one o'clock?' upon wliich the Bishop chan}?ed bis countenance
and turned black and pale, and then no more was said When
the Council rose up, the D.ike of Rothes called Janet into a room
and inquired at her privately ' who that person was that was with
the Bishop?' Slie refused at first ; but he promising upon his word
of honour to warrant her at all hands, and that she should not bo
sent to America, she says, 'My Lord, it was the meikle black
devil T"

This is in reality a mild specimen of Wodrow ; but it may
suffice to show the mental constitution of the man. Against his
fairness I sball make no charge, though Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe
in hjs notes appended to Kirkton's History, has, I think, incontost-
ably shown, from Wodrow's existing manuscripts, that he purposely
garbled, or at least omitted to quote, such parts of the correspon-
dence of the Archbishop of St Aidrews as would have effpctually
refuted some of the calumnies then current against that unfortunate
prelate. At present, I merely look to Wodrow as Mr Macaulay's
informant; and I find, on referri-ig to the History, that the follow-
ing passage is founded on. " Dreadful," says Wodrow, « were the
acts of wickedness done by the soldiers at this time, and Lagg
-was as deep as any. They used to take to themselves in their
cabals the names of devils, and persons they supposed to be in
bell, and with whips to lash one another as a jest upon hell. But I
shall draw a veil over many of their dreadful impieties I meet with
m papers written at this time I " It is hardly worth while to
remark that this passage does not, in the slightest degree, refer to
the troops under the command of Claverhouse, but to the militia
or local force which was raised by Grierson of Lagg. This story
is specially told of Grierson by Howie in Biographia Sco'icana-a.
work to which I allude simply for the purpose of showing against
whom the legend was directed. For any authentic historical
information we shall search that Apocrypha in vain. So much
for Mr Macaulay's accuracy in applying the materials of his
veracious authority ; but surely the absurdity of such stuff renders
refutation unnecessary? Mr Macaulay, however, goes beyond
Wodrow, even in mi luteness, for in a subsequent paragraph he
particularises the very names which were used a" *h "'

TUE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

851

Beelzebub and ApoUyonl Ho mij?ht with equal propriety have
adopted the phraseology of Ancient Pistol, and gravely informed
us that the Scottish mode of military accost was, « How now,
Mephostophilus ? "

We next arrive at the story of John Brown, which I am
particularly anxious to expiscute. This tale is usually brought
forward as the crowning instance cf the cruelty of Olaverhouse;
it has repeatedly formed the subject of romance and illustration ;
and authors of no mean power have vied with each other in
heightening the horror of its details. Some of the grosser fables
regarding that disturbed period have lost their hold of the popular
belief— for exaggeration may sometimes be carried so far as entirely
to neutralise its purpose. But the Priestfield tragedy is still an
article of the peasant's creed ; and, as it has hitherto been allowed
to pass without examination, it has furnished an overwhelming
reply to those who deny the authenticity of the mass of Covenant-
ing tradition. I am not ashamed to own that I have a deep
regard for tlie memory of Lord Dundee— a regard founded on a
firm belief in his public and private virtues, his high and chivalrous
honour, and his unshaken loyalty to his sovereign. But those
feelings, however strong, would never lead me to vindicate an
action of wanton and barbarous cruelty, or even attempt to lessen
the stigma by a frivolous or dishonest excuse. No cause was ever
effectually served by mean evasion, any more than it can be
promoted by unblushing exaggeration or by gross 'perversion of
facts. The charge has been distinctly made, and I now propose
to examine the authority upon which it is founded, as gravely and
minutely as though it concerned the ciiaracter of the living, and
not merely the memory of the dead. Mr Macaulay shall speak
for himself: —

"John Brown, a poor carrier of Lanarkshire, was, for his
singular piety, commonly called the Christian Carrier. Many
years later, when Scotland enjoyed rest, pros[)erity, and religious
freedom, old men, who remembered the evil days, described him as
one versed in divine things, blameless in life, and so peaceable
that the tyrants could find no offence in him, except that he
absented himself from the public worsliip of the Episcopalians.
On the first of May he was cutting turf, when he was seized by
Claverhouse's dragoons, rapidly examined, convicted of non-
conformity, aad seuteuced to death. It is said that even among

352

APPENDIX.

the soldiers it was not easy to find an executioner, for the wife of
the poor man was present. She led one little child by the hand •
It was easy to see that she was about to give birth to another- and
even those wild and hard-hearted men, who nicknamed' one
another Beelzebub and Apollyon, shrank from the great wickedness
of butchering her husband before her face. The prisoner mean-
while, raised above himself by the near prospect of eternitv
prayed loud and fervently as one inspired, till Claverhouse, in a
tury, shot him dead. It was reported by credible witnesses, that
the widow cried out in her agony-' Well, sir, well; the day of
reckoning will come ; ' and that the murderer replied-' To man I
can answer for what I have done; and as for God, I will take
Him into my own hand.' Yet it was rumoured th«t even on his
seared conscience and adamantine heart the dying ejaculations of
ins victim made an impression that never was effaced "
^ «/"r^ is Mr Macaulay's statement-well-written,' simple, and
affecting. Wodrow is the sole authority upon which he founds his
narrative, and it is fair to say thao he has deviated but slightlv
from that chronicle except in one material point. Wodrow does
not profess to specify upon what charge Brown was examined and
condemned. When Mr Macaulay says that he was « convicted of
non-conformity," he speaks without any text; and I shall present-
ly have occasion to show that his assumption is radically wrong
But, as he substanftliy adopts the tale of Wodrow, it is necessary
to go back to that writer's sources of information.
^The execution of John Brown is said to have taken place on
tiie 1st May 1685. The Revolution occurred in 1688; and Lord
Dundee fell at Killiecrankie on the 2.th July 1689 Wodrow's
History was first published in 1721, exactly thirty-six years after the
alleged murder.

These dates are of the utmost importance in considering a
matter of this kind. The Episcopalian party, which adhered to
the cause of fung James, was driven from power at the Revolution,
and the Episcopal Church proscribed. No mercy was shov^n to
opponents in the literary war which followed: every specfes of
invective and vituperation was lavished upon the supporters of
the fallen dynasty. Yet, for thlny-three years after the Revolution,
tf^ details 0/ this atrocious murder were never revealed to the public!
Nowhere in print or pamphlet, memoir, history, or declaration,
published previously to Wodrow. does von the name

V uuu

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 353

Brown occur, save once, in the Cloud of Witnesses-e, work which
appeared in 1714; and in that work no details are given the
narrative being comprehended in a couple of lines I have
searched for it amidst all the records of the so-called martyroloirv
but canaot fiad a trace of it elsewhere, until the Reverend Robert
Wodrow thought fit to place the tale, with all its circumstantiality
in his History. How, then, came Wodrow to know anything
about the murder of John Brown? He could have had no
personal knowledge or recollection of the circumstance, for he
was not quite six years of age at the time when it is said to have
occurred. He has not offered one scrap of evidence in support of
his allegation, and merely leaves it to be inferred that he had
derived the story from that most uncertain of all sources, tradition
Even at the hands of the most honest, cautious, and scrupulous
chronicler, we should hesitate to receive a tale of this kind ; but
from Wodrow, who is certainly entitled to claim none of the above
adjectives as applicable to himself, who will take it ? No one I
should hope, whose prejudice is not so strong as to lead him to
disregard the most ordi lary verification of evidence. Claverhouse
had enemies enough to insure tue circulation of such a damning
tale, supposing it to have been true, long before he had lain for
two-and-thirty years in his grave. He was not without eulogists
whose tribute to his memory was as gall and wormwood to their
opponents, and in whose teeth, mo?t assuredly, the details of such
a dastardly and unprovoked murder would have been cast. Yet
no man charged him with it. More than a generation passed away
-the two Kingdoms had been united, and Mar's insurrection '
quelled-before the mirucie-mongering minister of Eastwood
ventured, upon no documentary authority at all, to concoct and
publish the story which Mr Macaulay has adopted without a
scruple.

After what I have said, it may fairly be asked, whether the whole
of this story should be considered a mere myth or fable hatched
from the brain, or palmed upon the easy credulity, of Robert
Wodrow, or whether there are any grounds for believing that it is
at least founded upon fact? To this I should reply, that, uom
other testimony, the character a id complexion of which I shall
immediately analyse, it appears to be true that John Brown of
Priestlield, or Priesthill, did actually suffer by miUtarv ejcecntion

854

APPEnrmx.

but that the aame testimony utterly contradicts Wodrovr. and his

tde details. Mr Macaulay may not have known that such testi-
mony ever existed, for even the most painstaking historian tsue
to pass over some material in so wide a field ; nevertheress^s n^
the pomt has been mooted, it may be a satisfaction to him to leam

<«fl/eie« by the most popular work that ever emanated from the
Covenanting printing-press. ®

Ed^nhlt/'^''''' ^*'^'°^" *"^ P"^^^^^*^ *t *^« Bristo Port of

So Mes'^ 'i:T««rr'".'' "' " ^'^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^-^ ^h« Scottish
troubles. In 1682, he and two other Covenanters were present at

the death of one Francis Gordoa, a volunteer in the '^AZl^^,

troop, who, It seems, was shot through the head. Walker i„ hi

own account of this exploit, first published in 1727, cautiouslv

abstains from indicating the exac. perpetrator of the deed but

eaves the glory thereof to be shared among the triumvirale ' The

sum of his confession amounts simply to this^that he, Gordon

« got a shot in his head out of a pocket-pistol, rather fit /or d^ert

ing a boy, than killing such a furious, mad br-k man ; whlh

notwithstanding, killed him dead." He ;as, moreov;r, says

Walker Was impr.soned, and sentenced to transportation, but
made his escape, and, after various vicissitudes, set himself iown
in his old age to con^pile the Memoirs of the Covenanters. The
first of these tracts did not appear until after Wodrow's History

persecuted packman for the slip-slop of the fair-weather minister!
whom he accuses of positive dishonesty. "I wish him," says
Walker, m his Vtndtcation of Cameron, "repentance and forgive-
ness for what unaccountable wrongs he has done by his pen to the
Testimony, and to the names of Christ's slain witness's for the
same For myself I am easy ; my tongue is yet in my head and

Zp f Z ^'""^^r^ ^^^* I b-ve to say upon that head for
^self, and those with me, will run faster and further than he has
feet to go. I am refiecied upon for my not giving Mr Wodrow
better information. -4„....r.-Before his History came out, when
I heard of his manuscripts going from .and to hand among the
Longheads, (I knew it would be patched up according to the back-
ahdiner spirit of th^ (\u^\ t ^«c,v„j ^i.^ r> „ , * X

« r jyj * «voxrc« lue r«jv. Mr James Webster to

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

355

give me account when he came ^o his house, that I might have a
short conversation with him. Mrs Webster tohl him my desire.
He answered, he depended on the records of that time."' In the
same woik lie characterises Wodrow's statements as "lies and
groundless stories ;" and, moreover, piously expresses a wish "^^that
Mr Wodrow's well-wishers would pray for him, that he may come
to himself and be of a right mind, who has been so lavish of hia
misrepresentations and groundless reflections." Puch is Walker's
opinion of the authenticity of Wodrow's History, though his
remarks are of course principally directed to misrepresentations of
the champions of the Covenant. But thi-y are useful as showing
his impression of the intrinsic valne of the work.

Walkor's best and earliest tract is the Life of Peden, This
originally appeared in 1724, and is still widely circulated among
the peasantry of Scotland. It is a strange mixture of earnestness
and superstition; sometimes rugged and even coarse in itj style
and yet at times rising to a point of real though homt-ly pathos!
Peden, the subject of the memoir, was an intercommuned minister'
whom the Cuvenanters asserted to have been endowed with
miraculous prophetical powers. He was concerned in the insur-
rection of Pentland, and sentenced to banishment, but liberated br
the leniency of the Government; notwithstanding which, he
relapsed into his old courses, became the active agent of rebellion
and so notorious that he was expressly marked for capture. Of
his frequent interviews with the devil, his gifts of second-sight and
divination, an-i his power of casting out unclean spirits, I shall
say nothing here. Walker faithfully records at least a hundred
such instancps, which are sufficient %o entitle Peden to take rank
beside ApoUonins of Tyana. He appears, however, in actual flesh
and blood connected with the tragedy of John Brown.

Walker's narrative commences thus :— " In the beginning of May
1685, he (Peden) came to the house of John Brown and Isobel
Weir, whom he had married before he last went to Ireland . where
he stayed all night; and in the morning, when he took his fare-
well, he came out at the door, saying t# himself, ' Poor woman, a
fearful morning,' twice over—' a dark misty morning ! ' The next
morning, between five and six hours, the said John Brown, having
performed the worsliip of God in his fiimily, was going with a
spade in his hand to make ready some peat ground, the mist being

Verv fJp.rk IrnoiJiT- p.-jf notn l^i^^ — a., 1 /-ii 1 ?

~^. — n-j — .-v.,T ii^i- i.iatit wiuvujr v;i uci uiii vmiuuse comT)uSsed

356

APPENDIX.

■him with three troops of horses, brought him to his house, and
thiTo examined him." Walker, iiite Wodrow, is silent aa to the
naliirc of the charge. Then comes tlio sentence—" his wifo stand-
iiig by witli her child in her arms, that she had brought forth to
hiui, and another child of his Hrst wife's;" and the execution is
-thus narrated—" Olavcrhouse ordered six soldiers to shoot him ;
the most part of the bullets came upon his head, which scattered
his brains upon the ground."

Such is Walker's account of the matter, forty years having in
the meantime intervened ; and whether strictly correct or no, it
entirely alters the complexion of the case as stated by Mr Macauky.
Instead of J(.hn Brown being one "in whom the tyrants could find
no offence except that he absented himself from the publi<; worship
of the Episcopalians," we tind him in intercourse with a man
Who, whatever might be his spiritunl gifts, was a notorious outlaw
and a rebel ; the whole romance abotit the reluctance of the sol-
diers vanishes; to "wild and hard-hearted men " are at once
amenable to the authority of their commanding oHicer; and the
alleged murder dwindles into ti case of military execution.

Of the two histories, that of Walker is unquestionably most

likely to resemble the truth. He professes to have heard some of

the details from the wife of Brown, whereas Wodrow gives us no

manner of authority at all. There are, however, suspicions

circumstances even in Walker's narrative, which might bo noticed.

For example, in the original edition of his pamiiblct, he states

that the first person who came to Mrs Brown, while she was

watching by her husband's body, was " that old singular Christian

woman in the Cummerhead, named Elizabeth Monzies, throe miles

distant;" but in the third edition, this matron, retaining her

residence and encomium, is transmuted into " Jenn Brown."

Surely th.'se two cannot signify one and the same pe; ,n, and we

are therefore left in doubt which partioidar feu.ale was the

witness. But it is not worth while going into minute criticism.

Walker, who was a ftir more determined Uoveminter tlian Wodrow,

was not likely to have understated the circumstances, neither does

he profess to know upon what charge Brown was exnmined I

think, however, I can throw some light upon this person's political

delinquencies: and, strangely enough, my authority is derived

from an oflicial document which will be found in the Appendix to

Wodrow. *

THE VISCOUNT OF DVNDEE. 367

"John IJrown of Priestfield, in the parish of Muirkirk.- ficfures

May 1084. Tho lust is (^ those who had boea regularly cited as
Joh ,' ;;• --^^. or resetter, of rebel, but who ha. 'lied to a >ear

death, aid certainly for a very different offence than that of

u:':;;^;:?! •?""' '""• 'r ^"'"^ ^"'^^'''' °^ ^"« Episcopal-: s"'

Unduo ediy it was considered, in the eye of the law, a. offence
to attend armed cnve iticlcH, where fanatical and intercommnned
preachers wrested texts from Scripture into encomiums on sedi-
tio., treason, and murder: that, however, was a very different
thing frun non-attendance upon the curate. Wodrow acknowledges
that Brown had bee.i a long time upon his hiding in the fields"
a circumstance surely irreconcilable with his entirS consciousness
o innocence, but easily explained on the ground that he was
already a rebel and au outlaw. To say that he was tried and
sentenced for non-conformiiy is to hnzard an assertion not o ilr
without foundation, but in the v.ry teeth of history. I maiutaia
-and I know that £ am borne out by incontrovertible proof-
that, at the time in question, there was no manner of persecution
exercised m Scotland against any body of men whatever, on
account of tlieir religious tenets.

Air Macaulay, whilst dilatiig upon the harsh us^ge of the
Covenanters, never once affords us a glimpse of the opposite side
of the picture. His object is to show that James YU., immediately
on lus accession to the throne, commenced a relentless religious
persecution; and acc<.rdi:igly, he ignores the position of affairs in
Scotland during the last six months of the reign of Charles H I
Lave examined very minutely the original records of the Privy
Councd preserved in the public archive3 of Edinburgh, and these,
taken in connection with Founiainhall's explanatory Diaries,
furuish ample proof that the charges brought against King Jauies
are without foundation. I propose verj shortly to inquire into
this matter.

* In rder that there may be no cavilling about the identity of the
name or d, signation (for tl.o place of Bruwn'n nddencf has b..e.. variunsly
printed as " I'riotlield," "Priesthill," and "the ITesl.iU"), 1 subjoin the
exact words of Wod.ow, ii. his account of the execu.ion. " I mav well
bHgiu With the horrid murder of that excellent person. Jnh. Brown of
InesiJlM, la the paiish of Muirkir/c, by Ctaverhouse, the first of this

358

APPENDTX.

OharloB II. died 6th Februftry 1685. Lot us see what was tlio
Itate of the kingdoni toward.^ ihe close of tiiO nreccdii g jrea'*.

In September 1084, the southern uu'i wesl' i shires were so
turbulent that tiie Privy Council > und '* .; lessnry to issue four
Bpecial commissions of Justiciary tor those districts alone. " In
the month of Juue last," says the Royal Proclamation of 22d
July, "about two hundred armed rebels luve presumed, to the
great contempt of our a ithority, to march openly through sweral
of the said shires for many days together, threats ng i,ic o; 'Jio-
dox clergy and murdering our soldiers; and have at last, when
they found it convenient, disaftp'ured, being certainly and
Ondeniably reset by the inhabitants of those shires, without
gutticient diligence done by the sheriff's and iiihabitnnts df the said
shires, either for dissipating them, or for discovering their r('s»tter8,
and bringing ihem to justice." How faV those special commissions
■ucceeded in' repressing crime may be judged of by the following
events: —

'' 20M Nov. 1G84. — The news came this morning to Edinburgh
that some of the desperate phanatiques had last night fallen upon
two of the King's Life-Guards, viz. Thomas Ken noway and
Duncan Stewart, who were lying at the Swyn Abbay, beyond
Blackburn, in Linlithgowshire, and murdered them most barbar-
ously. This was to execute what they had threatened in their
declaration of war."

•' 12</i Dec. 1084.— News cams to the Privy Council that the
wild phanatiques had fallen in upon one t'eirson, minister at
Carsphairn in Galloway, a great dilator of them, and zealous of
rebuking them in his sermons, and killed him. They ridiculously
keep mock courts of justice, and cite any they judge their inveter-
ate enemies to them, and read probation, and condemn them, and
thereafter murder them."*

Some of the murderers of Mr Peirson were afterwards taken and
shot. They also have been elevated to the rank of martyrs. The
epitaph of one of them, Robert Mitchell, is printed among the
inscriptions at the conclu.s'ion of tlie Cloud of WitneMes.

On the 28th of January thereafter, the Privy Council was
informed that Captain Urquhart, and several of his men, had been
waylaid and murdered in Wigtownshioe.f

* FooNTAiNnALL's Historidl Notices.

t Records qfthe Privy Council in General Record OflSce, Edinburgh,

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

359

These specim'^ns may serve to show the temper of the Covenant-
ers Hboui the close of 1«84. N»'xt, ad to the alleged fiery persecu-
tions of James, '< whicli," sh\b Mr Macauhiy, "waxed hotter than
ever from the day on which be became sovereign." That day was
the Gth of February, and on the :iGth of the same month he issued
a full pardon and indemnity to all offenders below the rank of
Leritora (with tiie exception only of those who were actually gudty
of the murders of Archbishop Sharpe, Mr Peirson, and two others)
and that clogged with no other condition than the taking of the
oath of allegiance. The jiroclamation was published on the 2d of
March, and on the 14th the Privy Council ordered all prisoners
whatsoever to be set at liberty, " upon their abjuring the fanati-
cal declaration of war, and likewise solemnly giving their oaths
never to ri.^e against his Majesty or his authority." Surely never
yet was persecution inaugurated by such liberal measiues as these I
It is right to observe, that the reader will fail to discover the
smallest mention of them in the pages of Mr Macaulay.

In less than tea days af'ter this jail-delivery, the disttirbanccs
began anew. On the 24th of March, " the Lords of his Majesty's
Privy Council being certainly informed that a number of desperate
rebels have the boldness and confidence openly to go up and down
the shire of Ayr, and oi.ier adjacent shires and places, and to enter
bouses, take awny arms and provisions at their pleasure, without
any notice taken of them either by the heritors or commons, to
tbe great affront of his Majesty's authority," commissioned Colonel
James Douglas to proceed to the disaffected districts, with full
powers to repress the disorders. Tha commission was signed on
the 27th by the whole members of the Privy Council win were
present, "except Claverhouse"— a remarkable exception, specially
noted, to which I shall prese itly refer. Of the same date, a letter
from the Privy Council v is forwarded to the Earl of Dumfries
Sheriff of Ayr, rcquestin^i immediate particulars, as it appeared
that his Lordship's house had been one of those which were
ransacked.

Douglas seems to have entered into his functions with zeal, but
not to have been altogether successful. The insurrection continued
to increase, and on tlie 21st April, General-Lieutenant Drnmmond,
Master-General of the Ordnance, was appointed Commissioner and
Justiciar in the southern and western shires, with plenary Dowera.

3C0

APPENDTX*

TliH Parliament of Scotland did not meet until two days affen-
wnrd^.

Those insurrectiona lind tlicir origin in a dooprr cniisc tlinn
religious dissont or local tin bulonre. Mr Maonulity, who co iH-
deill/ Bays that " there was \\^^ iiiHiirrcclioM in any jmrt of our
Island on the 1st May," probably coiHideri tg the Ayrshire rising
tt8 a mere sportive denionslralidn. has a note in nfiitation of the
editor of the Oxford edition of lUiriet, who supposes that Jolin
Browa might have been nixed up with the desig is of Ar^'yle.
He says that Argylc was at that date in Holland. Tru« ; hd hn
tailed for Scotland on the, '2d, and the Privy Council had been
aware of his designs as early ns the '21st April. On that day they
ordered 1200 Ilighlandera ty be sent into the western shires, " upon
rumours of fears of Argyle's landi'g: » and Orunirnond, in his
commission, was empowered to take those llifihlandcrs under hia
command. On the 2Hth, an Act was framed for putting the wholo
kingdom in a posture of I'.rfence, ex)resKly on account of Argylc •
and on the last of that month' Joh i (.'ampbell of Siicco was
arrested for treasonable correspondence with thut i ifuluated
nobleman. Nor can there be a shadow of a doubt that the dia-
turba ices in the west were coniected with the meditated laidiog.

Is, then, the conjecture of the editor of niirnet so exceedingly
extravagant? I dO not thiuk so. How came John Brown, as
Wodrow says, to have been "a long time upon his hidi ig in the
fields?" He was free by the indemnity^ unless, indeed, he had
refused the oath of allegiance, or committed some subsequent act
which put him beyond the pale of the law. In the report of a
committee of the Privy Council, made on the 10th of March, I find
tie following entry :—" John Brown, an old man, in the fugitive
roll, refuses the allegiance, and so ought not to have the benefit
of the indemnity." If this be the same person with the carrier of
Priestfield, he was at that time a prisoner, and therefoie must
either have made his escajie, or, having taken the oath, subse-
quently joined the rebels ; in either of which cases his hiding in the
fields is intelligible enough, and so also is his summary execution
when arrested. But in no way can it be shown that he suffered
on account of his religious tenets ; and it is very well worthy of
observation that the Act against Cimvenlich's, which has been
so much abused, was not passed by the Scottish Parliament until
several days after the date in question. Let the candid uud iicpar-

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

3G1

tial rrndcr comparo those dates, circMiinsiances and ovidonccs, with
the luimilivo of Mr Macivulny, a-id I liave littlo f\'iir of his arriving
at tlio siitiie concluaioiiH witli tliat cKxiuofit liistoriaii.

ItseetTis to me, therofbrc, quite clear tliat John Brown was exocnt-
ed as a rebel. He may bo coriHidercd a martyr in the satne sense as
Hack.-itoun of llailiiliet and Hubert Mitcliell, who liad inibrned thoir
hands in tlie J)l(in(l of tiie Primate of 8t Andrews and of the
minister of Carspliairn, or as tlie rebels who adhered to tlie atro-
cious Declaration of Hanqiihar ; but I cannot see wliat otlK-r claim
he has to the title. He was fngilated the year before ; he had either
refused or had forfeited the benefit of the indemnity; ho was
traflickiiipj with a notorious oiiilaw; and ho is admitted to have
been in hidinjf williin six weeks after tlo indemnity was pro-
claimed. All this, at least, is patent and proven ; and it is jitterly
inconsistent w'.h ids innocence, evfn if we should stretch charity
so far as to su|)po3e that, during those six weeks, he did not join
one of those aimed bands of rebels who were then i)eraud)iilating
and plundering tlie country. The aggravations, which constitute
the romance of the story, have been already disposed of. Patrick
Walker, the staucher Cameronian of the two, gives Robert Wodrow
the lie direct.

This iiote has already extended to such a length, that I am really
unwilling to aild a word more on Mic subject. But the duty which
I have undertaken compels me- to state my belief that Urahame of
Claverhouse had no share whatever in repressing the disturba ices
previous to the landing of Argyle, and that he was not present at
the execution of John Brown. Tradition of course is against me ;'
but when I li id no articulate voice uttered by tradition until after
the exjiiry of thirty years, lam not disposed to give much weight
to it as an accessary, far less to accept it as reasonable evidence.
My reasons are as follows : —

Claverhouse was superseded in his military command by Colonel
James Douglas, brother of Queensberry, who was then High Trea-
surer. The district assigned to Douglas was that of Ayr, the shire
in which John Brown resided; and Claverhouse, being of equal
military rank, did not serve under him, as is api)arent from the
records of the Privy Council, the meetings of which he attended
dailv until the month of April. Tliese records refute many of the
scandalous tales propagated by Crookshauk and others, who
depict Claverhouse as pursuing CoveuauLers ixi NitLsduIe, at the

3G2

APPENDIX.

very moment wh^n he was performing liis duties as a councillor in
Edinburgh. Fountainhall tells us distinctly that he was super-
seded out of spite : he refused, in his character of I'rivy Councillor
to sigi the commission, and in April he wab actually omitted from'
the now list of councillors. The following is FouiitainhaH's entry
on that occasion:-" 9th April 1685.— A Privy Council is held
where a new commission is produced, omitting nom- of tlie former
Privy Councillors but only Colonel Grahauie of Clavorhouse,
because of the discords we have formerly marked between him and
the High Treasurer and his brother. The i)retence was, that, being
married in my Lord Dundonald's phanatique family, it was not
safe to commit the King's secrets to him." The spiie went even
further: for a {^^ days afterwards an Act of Council was jiassed,
says Fountainhall, "in odium of Claverhouse;" and I cannot tind,
in the records of that year, the sligiUest trace of his having been
reinstated in com.mand. It is possible, however, that he might
have been called o\it to serve under Genenil Drummond, but not
surely upon such duty as this. John Brown must have been a very
desjierate rebel indeed, if a Colonel of the Guards, who moreover
had been a Privy Councillor, aud three troops of horse were des-
patched specially to arrest him 1 If he was no rebel at all, but
merely a nonc'juformis', the thing becomes absolutely incred.ble j
for, setting aside the indemnify, can auy one believe tiiat, in the
face of Argyle's meditated landing, and in the midst of actual
insurrectio 1, the troops were leisurely emi)loyed in ferreting out
and shooting such of the i)easantry as did not worship with
the curates? But vulgar credulity owns no limits, and the lapse
of thirty years is sufficient to account for the currency of the
grossest fable.

In estimating the character of the dead, some weight surely
ought to be given to the opinions of contemporaries. I shall cite
merely one— that of Dr Monro, the Principal of the University of
Edinburgh. At the inquiry i istituted before the visitors in 1G90,
it was alleged, as a special article of dittay against the Reverend
Principal, that he had rejoiced at the victory of Lord Dundee.
After culling upon his accuser for proofs, the Doctor thus boldly
expressed himself: - "The libeller does not think I rejoiced at the
fall of my Lord Dundee! 1 assure him of the contrary; for no
gentleman, soldier, scholar, or civilized citizen, will find fault with
me for this. I had an extraordinary value for him : and such of his

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

363

enemies as retain any generosity will acknowledge lie deserved
it."* But what generosity, or oven wliat regard for truth, could
be ex|iecte(l from cieatuios of the stamp of Vv'odrow 1

Mr Macaulay is peculiarly unfortunate on llie subject of Claver-
houae. 1 s«y nothing of omissions, though Imual take the liberty,
with all deference, of remarking that it Joes appear somewhat
strange to find in a history, whicli rer Dunts with such minute
satisfaction every instance of desertion f om the losing side, uo
notice taken of the loyaity of those who remained steadfnst to
their oath and their allegiance. In an i.nparlial narrative one might
expect to see recorded the gallant advice and chivalrous off'cr niade
by Lord Dundee to his sovereign, before the latter quilted his domin-
ions ; for surely devotion to a losing cause is worthy of honour and
respect, au'' should receive it from a generous antagonist. But
historia 13 undoubtedly have the privilege of omitting what they
please, and, in this inj^+ance, it is sufficient to no'e that th< privi-
lege has been exerci,:,ed. But Mr Macaulay has thought fit to
introduce Claverhouse on.:e more as an actor in an historical
scene, ujjon which he has obviously bestowed much pains and
considerailon. In his account of the capture and execution of
Argyle, he says : — " The. victorious party had not forgotten that,
thirty-five years before this time, the father of Argyle had been at
the head of the faction which put Montrose to death. Before that
event, the houses of Graham and Campbell had borne no love to
each other, and they had ever since been at deadly feud. Care
was taken that the prisoner should pass through the same gate and
the same stroets through which Montrose had been led to the
same doom. The troops who attended the procension were put under
tfie command of Claverhouse, the Jierceet and sternest of the race of
Graham." Now, although tlie fatlier of Argyle had not only been
the head of the faction which put Montrose to death, but had, along
with his son, the inconceivable meanness to be present at and exult
over the indignities ottered to that illustrious nobleman, it is not
true that any chief of the gallant house of Grahame stooped to
imitate such a base example. Claverhouse was not there. The
melodramatic effect of the narrative may suffer in ccnsequence,

* Presbyterian Inquisition : as it was lately practised against the
Professors <f the College of Edinburgh. Aug. and Sept. 1G90.
Licensed Nov. 12, 1691. London.

Ill

364

APPENDIX.

but at present we nre dealing with history, not romance. The
impression which every one must receive from the forogoint:
passMpre i,, that Claverhouse was expressly selected for the d.ity,
in ordor to give a passing triumph, not only to a political cause,
but also to a family feud. Kno^ving well how eagorlv former
Covenanting writers have fastened upon any pretext for ^.sting a
sta,n upon the memory of Claverhonse, it was with considerable
astonishment that I found this statement brought forward for the
first time by Mr Macaulay. Hi, mistake, in this instance, is pre-
cisely of a ,.iece with the others. Wodrow quotes, nccurately
enongh, the substance of the order given for bringing Argyle into
Ji.ctu,b!n-gh-an order v^hich was modified in its execution That
order bears that ho shall be - carried up the street bare-headed,
witl, h.s hands tied behind his back, in the midst of Captain Gra-
ham s guards " This is enotigh for Mr Macaulay, who forthwith
pounces upon the name, and, without stopping to consider who Cap-
tau, Graham was, at once degrades Claverhonse from his rank and
identdies hun with the officer of the guard ! Ifenee the rhetorical
floursh „bout the houses of Grah ,m and Campb-dl. The real fact
IS that the otiieer in question was Patrick Grahnm, a younger son
of I iclibradde, Captain of the Town-guard of Ediuburgi,,\vhose
duty ,t was, irrespective of :>olitics or family feuds, to be present
at all public processions within the boundaries of the city His
name is given ai; full length i i the original order; but Mr Macau-
lay, having previously substituted James for John, now substitutes
Jolm for Patrick, and consequently is enabled to invest the scene
with an additional, though spurious, hue of interest Besides this,
I nm afraid that Mr Macaulay's account of the procession must be
considered as chiefly drawn from his own imngination. Argyle
was by no means exposed to the same indignities which had been
heaped upon Montrose, neither was his doom the same. Pouutain-
ha I, in his Historical Observes, a work of great interest, expressly
tells us that although it was mentioned that, " when the M.irquig
of M.mtrose was brought up prisoner from the Watergate in a cart,
this Argile was feeding his ej-es with the sight in the Lady Mur ay's
balcony, in the Canongate, with her daughter, his lady, to whom
he was newly married, and that he was seen smiling and playing
With her;" yet that, "seeing we condemn these rebellious tymes
tor their rigor our great men (not knowing their own destinies)
Uiought It no fit copy to imitate— so that all that was dnn« to ip-m

THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE.

365

was, that h« was met at the Watergate hy Captain Graham's com-
pany and the hangman, who tied his hands behind his buck; and
so, the hangman going before him, he came up on his feet to the
Castle, hut it was caden to he no late that he was little seeti." It was
ten o'clock at night before he arrived at the Watergate, so that
any attempt at ignominious parade was avoided.

I cannot see how the numory of Argyle can be served by
such exafrgerations. Whatever mav have been his previous
delinquencies — and they were neither few nor trivial— he met his
fate like a brave man, nor did any action of his life become him
so much as its close. Claverhouse, who would joyfully have
encountered him in the field, was intinitely above the littleness
of triumphing over his political opponent. The debt due to the
memory of the great Montrose was fully discharged when his
loyalty received its postlujmous tribute, and the remains of the
hero were deposited by his assembled kindred in the tomb. It is a
pity that Mr Macaulay, since he must needs take Wodrow as his
authority, has not adhered closely to his <ext. In matters which
were evidently public, and therefore open to common contradiction,
Wodrow seldom ventures to warider far astray from the truth: it
is in the alleys and bye-lanes of his narrative that we detect him
at his habitual sin. Mr Macaulay, however, does not always follow
Wodrow, but sometimes misinterprets Fountainhall. Thus, in his
account of the riot at Edinburgh on 31st January lG8(j, he some-
what magniloquently tells us that " the trooDS were already under
arms. Conspicuous among them vere Claverhouse's dragoons,
the dread and abhorrence of Scotia id." His sole authority for
saying i^o is the entry in Fountaiiihall's Diary tlmt " the Counsell
calls in the assistance of Grame's comiuiny." Not a dragoon was
there. Patrick Graham, as usual, was summoned with the Town-
guard ; but that body, in the hands of Mr Macaulaj^, multiplies
like Falstaffs ffiraous corps in buckram, and is ready on the
shortest notice to figure as horse, foot, or artillery.

I trust that, in the foregoing remarks, I shall not be considered
as having transgressed the proper bounds of courte-y. Mr
Macaulay's reputation is deservedly so high, that every statement
emanating from his pen is liable to the r^inutest scrutiny; and I
will fairly confess that I was not sorry to find the scattered charges
wliich, from time to time, have been brought against Lord
Dundee, conccatrated ia his volumes, since an accusation from so

366

APPENDIX.

powerfu a quarter must necessarily give somo additional interest
to the defence, however f.eblj executed. It is from no des^e
for controversy, far less f.cm a wish to run counter to popdar
opinion, that I have approached this subject. J am fully .ware of
the we.ght of prejudice against which I have to contend but ivoL
tha prejudice I appeal to the truth, as I gather it from the crd"
of the time. Some of my critics, fur whose indulgence otherXe T
am grateful, have been pleased to express then.eL w^htX a
finding aay terms of eulogy applied in the text towards an indif
dual m the belief of whose misdeeds they have been hereditailr
and traoitionally trained. If my belief upon such poin "t e ^
ame with theirs, they should have had no cause of compllint l!
IS because I am convinced, after a most careful examination of the
evidence-not of historians only, but of such as is afforded by he
ma tenals which ougnt to be the foundation of authentic history-!
that a large portion of our national annals has been most unfair>
perver ed and that party strife and polemical rancour have com-
bined o distort facts and to blacken names for mere temporary
and ephemeral purposes ;-it is for these reasons sclely that I have
ventured to go back into the disputed oattle-fields of the past I
have taken nothing for granted, but have given an authority fo
each separate allegation ; and if those authorities should hapnen to
prove hostile to the preconceived impressions of any one surelv I
am not to blame. If anything I have said can be proved to be
wrong I axn willing to admit the error, but not otherwise. Mean!
while I am not ashamed of havi.g attempted to defend the memory
of Lord Dundee against unjust accusations, not preferred during
his lifetime, but invented at a laier period; for I can see no
generosity, far less justice, in the conduct of those who are
obstinately deaf to all evidence in favour of one whom they have
been previously taught to condemn, aud who seem to think that
tflj strength of their own cause depends upon the amount of
obloquy which they can contrive to heap upon its opponents

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pubac this way, and conveying corre^ter idcv-i than tho^e generally prevailine
as to what this country really \b.— People's Jvur:;al, Toronto. cv^umg

It is a complete and reliable compendium of the Dominion's historv ita
people, their names, residences, occupation, &j. It is an indispensable apu'en-
dage tothe business community, aiid a monument to the perseverance and
industry cf Mr. Lovell.— //'w/i Canadian, Toronto.

Mr John Lovell has placed the Canadian people under obligations t^ him
for the exc-ellent and elegant Directory of tiie Dominion which lie has lust
issued, io all business men it is a necessity which it would be mere nig-
gardliness to do without.— fo/rtwtcrfia/ Times, Toronto.

Scarcely any item of information regarding tlie Dominion is mis=in<^ from
the volume— no office or counting house is now complete without a conv^of the
Directory.— Ca«adi«;t Freeman, Toronto.

This is a work of extraordinary magnitude and value. It requi-es onlv to
be examined to ensure its appreciation.— CV««rfa Scotsman, Toronto.

We congratulate the country on the appoarance of a work Avhich is av once
a pra- ti. al and reliable exponent of its progre.^s and condition, and a triluite
of earnest patriotism to the young Dominion in one of her most worihv
subjects. — Canada Bookseller, Toronto. ^

A book of more than 2500 pages naturally inspires one with con«ider'^ble
respect, and when the book is well bound and neatly prinieJ the rcipect
increases. If a perusal of the work shows it to contain valuable matter the
respect rises to admiraliin. Lovell's Dominion Directory is entitled to the
latter sentiment. Mr. Lovell intimates that the cost of issuing this work was
not less than «i80,000, a statement we can well believe. Mr. Lovell has now
supplied the country with a directory which will stand as a monument of
Canadian enterprise, and one of which the country may well feel proud —
Daily Spectator, Hamilton,

This colossal work forms the crowning effort of the celebrated John Lovell
Of Montreal. Mr. Lovell has immortalized himself in the literary history of
the country by the publication of this magnilicent work. It is impossible for
us to attempt, within the limits of a two-column article, to give even a
digest of the contents. Suffice it to say that all that Mr, Lovell stated in his

original prospectus hm been faithfully carriefl out. No pecunian' reward
could compensate him for what he ha. accomplished in this vast undertalTin?
John Lovcl lia. for year, taken a noble stixn.l in (Janada in suppMn . the
people with a Hrhool literature of it.s own, and his name ranks amouK thefore-
most of Its worthy pabhihQn.— London Free Press.

The mo<t Htupendous work in the publishing line ever attempted in Canada
may be found in the Dominion Directory, just issued from the well-known
printmg-house of Mr. Jolm Lovell. of Montreal. The dire, torv is tl.c most
valuable pr(xlu. tion ever issued from the Press of CaiuKla, and Mr' John
Lovell s name will ever be held in remembrance by all wlio desire to I'berish
ml^aa:!^?:^;^:^ ''^ advancement of this Dominion.-Z../.. ^^/^

The Dominion Director}- Is MI of interesting matter for men in everv nro
(eBlon and ,n every branch of bn,r„e«.-iV„„jc«cai K™» ?"»1« * ^

wil® Directory is at once a monument of Mr. Lovell's wondci-ful oner-y and
^^S^:^:ll^^r^^r^ -^ -""^^^ ^- -^e Since its dis^^Jiv^

muT^SsSn^Z?Sr-^r;:;'.fc;L?^^ ^^^P^'^^-' -^^ ^ave

^3!'.^vJ? *" '^''^^""wledge the receipt of one of the most important statistical
^orks we have ever seen-the Dominion Directory. Tiie great value of this
book to proie,<sional and business men is the facility witli u^ii,'!, the ad.l ress of

matioii. — Volunteer Review, Ottaica.

The Dominion Directory is destined to exert a material influence in helping
on the progress of this country. Mr. Lovell has nobly fulfilled the proniise of
his prospectus m giving to the people of Canada a full and reliable D rectory of
the Dominion. It is a book of which Canadians may well be proud, and for
l^vNact ""'" ^ ' "* ^^''^' *' *^' enterprising publisher.-/a!;i.4T»

taS^:^!);ts mi,^:i^x^ '"^'^ '"" '""^ "''^^^ ^ ''*""^'^" ^'^^^^^'^

+v,^^®m"T'"?"'^ Directory is tlie Domesday book of Canada. There is one

Si:i^ss^£.snsssf '"' '^^ "^-"-^-^ "^^^^^

ranid.°''"wn"i' ^'^.'rft'^^y is one of the greatest publications ever issued in
Cy.S;wJl//.Sfr^'^ "^^""""'^ '' '' *^^^ ^^^«^^ community.-/ia..>,,

PUOVINCE OF QUEBEC.

r Jvf J^f h""'"""^''''''^*f''"^ '^ "°* "'^^^^y creditable to Canada; that does not
convey the meaning ; it would be creditable to the publisher in any countr?
For business men it would seem to bealmo.t indispensable.-i^/c^/.^r/a/ /TerS

fi,3^'' nT'^ V f T?^^ ?^ truthfulness and accuracy, and its authority is more
fin lb established day by day, the more the inhabitants of the cities, towns and
vil ages examine and explore its pages. It will assuredly open the eyes-and
wide too-ol the Lnglifeh people, nnd enable them to form some clear idea of
the intelligence, enterprise, wealth and extent of a country which some of
t^p.r statesmen consider an incubus to the Mother Country .-r/je Gazette,

WWWWWP

C'est nn volume 6normc, anx dimensions enrore inconnues en Canada. Nous
espi'Tons (lue M. Lovell vorra se« efforts conronn^s par un plem 8ncc6a qui lui
est (la t'l taut de titrea.— Z-a Alinerve, Montreal.

It it replete with information of the most valuable description. It is alike
a credit to Mr, Lovell and the Dominion, and his enorj^y in embarlcuib' in the
enterprise is most comniendablo. —Z>«i/y Witness, Montreal.

The Dominion Directory is crammed full of infcnnation of the most useful
kind. — Evening Star, Montreal.

Get ouvraw que I'on pent regardcr romme une ojnvre nationale est I'un des
plus considerables et des plus complets que nous connaissions en ce genre.—
Le I'ays, Montreal.

Lc Direetoire do la Puissance est nne oenvre immense ct il a fallu un prand
nombro d'ajients dans toutes les provinces ponr recueillir les reuseiguomenta
priicieux qu'oii y trouve. — La Nouveau Monde, Montreal.

Of this work it is scarce possible to speak in too flattering terms. The amount
of useful information it contains is immense. No otlier work so gigantic has
ever bet'ti conceived, much less executed, by any p ..blisher within the Domin-
ion.— 7V«<^ Witness, Montreal.

The Domiriion Directory contains information of the most valuable descrip-
tion. It reflects tlie utmost credit not only on the publisher, but upon the
Dominion of Canada.— CViMJ't7t Observer, Montreal.

This great and valuable work is published. It contains a vast amount of
information and interesting matter. We aie ' ?-e that the people of the
Dominion will feel justly proud of this M-oik. -ii. "al Hearthstone.

From evc-y source, the praise, not only due to tuu ok itself but to those
•who produced it, is emphatic, undisguised, and ungrudging. Tlie object of the
publisher was to produce a trustworthy work, and no lias sn.'ceeded to
the astonishment of all who know the difficulty of such an undertaking. It
IB a storehouse of information respecting the trading capabilities of British
America.— Z>at7i/ News. Montreal.

The publisher of this useful work has accomplished his herculean task in a
most satisfactory manner.— Quefiw Gazette.

The Dominion Directory has Impressed us with the great usefulness of the
information contained In it.— Quebec Mercury.

The Directory Is replete, from the first page to the last, with valuable infor-
mation connei-ted with tlie country and its history. To the statesman and
statistician who desire Information on the progress of Canada in population,
industry and wealth, the book will be of great vaXae.— Quebec Chronicle.

C'est nn Immense volume rempll de renselgnements de tous genres, qui le
rendent Indispensable aux homines d'affaires.— yoi«'«aZ de Quebec.

Apres avoir parcouru k la hate I'almanach nous pouvons d'.re que M. Lovell
a parfaltement attelnt son but et <)ue son ouvrage contlennent autant de
renselgnements que les plus exigeants peuvent en attendre d'une publication
de ce genre. — Courrier du Canada, Quebec.

L'ouvrage est un monument national, qui devra subsister et que chacun est
appele a soutenlr. — L' Evenement, Quebec.

Our surprise was great when we beheld a noble volume such as has never
issued from the Canadian press. In respect of commercial Impoi-tance. The
book is not only an honour to Canada, but a monument to the enterprise, skill
and perseverance of John Lovell. We fervently trust that he has not mis-

tai<en M«(
him a l.'i-j
piiljlic— ;

The Dir
nitnde of

.1 work.—.

It is a f
pu.vraiitee
will make

The pub
his taok in
reliable ch

1'he pub
We hcartil

It is repl
to be contn
extensive j
Express. ,

The Dire
of books,
will be fou
tend to ma
known to e

Lovell's I
gigantic un

"The bn(
without the
published ir

Tlie work
Doiniiiioii, b

The publi!
be exceeded
within the r
volume is in

The Domii
and must \xc,
Colonial iStai

The object
pre;;ent a hai
usefulness by
is not a bool
envjrs in it, b
of the work.-

The Domin
a book of gre
which it cont

That such £
of the marve

" ■ 4l ii in i nu i »

PROVINCE OF NOVA SCOTIA.

n IS a . nmprehensive and valimblo work. Mr LovpH's noaf «n•„,.^„
Ruaraiitee th.it the br)ok is as coniDlete am a ^n,.."J „i ^ ?* ? , "^'^ "■''® »
will make u.-Monnnff Clu-oniJe Hu^f^ax "''''^ ''' * painstaking labor

The publisher of this very volnminousand most nsefnl work lii^nornnnr^iiou a
his taok in a most crerlltable manner The n mm,, V nf V.X^ l^ acromplished
reliable character is invaluabTe!-^.;/,/ai'c!S "''^°'"'''""" °* * «t"c"y

ext.,^ve patronage. His enterprise and labor m.i^T-S;^'''!^^

will be found an esientl.il to every man of Sisiues within fh. n^"""- '•'"'"• "
toiul to make the inhabitants of the d ffc^cS Son. S tho n *"•" •"'''',^' ''"^
known to cich ot\iov.~ British Cololii HaUfal *^' Dommion better

Lovell's Dominion Directors' is the l>io-t7fi;+ k^^^v ,„„ ,,
gigantic undertaking.-CV../S/«riife;* 'm^i/al!^^'"' ""'^ ''''''

It was a

published in Canada."-^6.;a(«e; ,IIan)aT^ ioiportant volume ever

The work is got up in good style and in a maniipr thnf rnfl<.«f= ^-^ ^
Dominion, and particuL.ly to tL establisireS^Mx?! W?l^-^^^^^^^^^^^

be'^j^t^^zs^SSiSSSSt^Sir'^v^r* '"^^^^ *^

within the next twenty years. Tlie amount of^nfnm»,/-'^^^*^ ^"r Published
volume isinvaUiable.-ra,v«o««/rrnCr ^"^"^mation contained in the

Tlie Dominion Directory is a ponderous booV n.K-.„f d^ t i, • ., .

and must h..ve entailed an enormous outlay on the part of Jh^lM
Colonial Standard, Pictou. ^ ^ P^" ^^ ^^^ publisher.—

PROVINCE OP NEW BUUNSWICK.
The object of the publisher in incurring the erreat exDPnq<> nf ««n oaa
pre..ent a hand-book which is not likely to be exSed^ ?n t?,J. 'k'^'' ''''^^ ^^^
usefulness by any book likely to bep^^blished witMn th. nlvf ;^ '^^^''^'' ^"^
is not a book for one class: but is^adaptS for a Sf coursX".*!^'''''' "
en-urs in it, but they are of a trivial char^ter Pomna^in •*.! 'i^®"^® ^''^ ^^^
of the work.-<S<. John Daily Telegraph ^^^Pared with the solid merits

The Dominion Directory is a stupendous undprtatin<T Tf jo •
a book of great utility and public con veni^iS The kinnVnV./^^P'^^'P^''*
which it contains is vast.-i^. John Daily oZe'. ' "* ^formation

That such a compilation of facts -jliould be due to the PffnW-a «f «^^«
Of the marvels of our time. The Canadian who pSniSs'Lok ^Sko^gl

ignornnt of his country. A work of mirh maprnitudo, conipilod with mnrh raro
and hibor, Ih put within tiio rcncii of all for tho paltrv Huin of $\'2. It is l'h/,i tteor
hi8toi-y, and directory combined.— 7%e Adcertistr, St. John.

Wo have roccivod a cony of tlii-< inonatcr book, tho most complete work of its
kind over published.— A/o;7(«//f/ Freeimtn, Ht. .luhii.

The innnenHo amount of labor connected with tlio collectinK' of tho mass of
information contained in this volume is almost br>voud comin-olicn-iion It is
one of th(f mf)st valuable books of information published within the Don'iinion
— Masonic Mitror, St. John,

It is an enormous tome, equal to the bulk of three respectable-Kizcd volumes
rolle(l into one. It reflects p:reat credit on the energy and resources of Mr.
hovclh—IIead Quarters, Fretlerkton.

Every business man should be the possessor of this work ; as a reference in
conductuiK counuercial operations it will be found a valuable aid. Tin- luib-
lislierhas been to tn-eat expense in furnishing what we couKidi-r the best Direc-
tory ever offered to the people.— C^mo/t Advocate, Newcastle.

As anticipated, it is the best and most accurate work ever imblishod in the
Dominion. The amount of valuable information it contains uuikes it invalu-
able.— 7V(t' Times, St. Stephen.

Wo are in receipt of a copy of this Monster Book, It should be on the desk
of every busnicss nuui in the couwtvy. — Carleton Sentinel, Woodstock.

Mr. Lovell may well feel proud of his success, and we hojie that the pecu-
niary compensation of the book may be commensurate with its merits and its
importance. It is the best book of reference published.— <SY. Croix Courier. St.
/Stephen. '

The design, scope, and character of this Mork fullv answer tho expecta-
tions formed of it. No trouble or expense has been spared to make it complete
and reliable.— 2%e Times, Moncton.

PROVINCE OF NEWFOUNDLAND.

A most niagniflcent work, containing a vast amount of reliable, statistical and
general information, and quite a desideratum to men of business, and of vast
importance to all who take an interest in the progress of the British Provinces
in the Western World. It is infinitely superior to any publication of a similar
character that has emanated from the Colonial press.— TAe Courier, St. John's.

_ The book is beautifully printed on excellent paper, and is a credit to the pub-
lisher and the whole Dominion, and should tind a place in every library and
counting-house.— 77/e Telegraph, St. John's.

The Dominion Directory is indeed a tremendously heavy publication, and as
the Provincial Directory rests with tho Dominion on our table, we are at once
reminded of a little dingy alongside of a majestic frigate.— TVfe Times, St. John's.

The work in its compilation and printing has, we believe, cost the publisher
$80,000 ; and this in itself is a guarantee that every endeavor has been made,
and no expense spared, to make it as reliable and as general in its infonnation
as possible. We do not think that any work of a similar descri])tion, embracing
60 many points of usefulness and so vast and general in its information, has
been ever before issued fi-om the press, anywhere. We cannot but esteem it as
a credit to the Dominion and a source of satiFfaction to all British America,
that such a work should be sent forth from her presses.— /?ova; Gazette, St.
Johns.

The work teems with useful infonnation for the past, present and future.
is truly wonderful.— //arior Grace Standard.

PROVINCE OF PllINCE EDWAUD ISLAND.

A PTcat ^('vlc of reffronro. of which any country mftrht fool proud. It
contdinsa V( ly Invtre amount of valnuhlo iiifonndtion, and certain facts and
rtatistlcH wlilch our bualnoss men will flud of great advantage.— /i'.f«/////«'r,
CAarloth'toton,

Thf Directory is the result of a largo amount of mental and physical lahor.
It in filled Willi information of tin moHt valuable kind, and an accurate as the
nature of the work would po<^Tiit.^The Islander, CharlotteUmn.

UNITED .STATES.

Ro prodlpioufl a volume, in point of thickness at least, never came into our
possession before. IJut if the book is gigantic, what shall we say of the labor
that produced it and the enterprise that planned it ? The value of such a work
to any person either having or desiring to establish buyiness relations with the
people of Canada could not easily be estimated. But this vast directory of
names is not a II that tlie wurk cont.iins. !■ = i niaga/aneof almost every other
kind of information conceniinirthe Domiuioii that can be souglit for. In fact,
there seems to be nothing vvh 'h anybody can want to know, so far as Canada
is concerned, that IMr. Lovell's book is not ready to furnish.— /y////W/o h.iprejis.

This work is a roniai-kable « idence of Canadian industry ai'id enteri)rise.
The volume looks ke a directory of London, and is remarkably well printed
and bound. It is a noble monument of Mr. Lovell's enteri>rise, and we trust it
will prove a financial success. It certainly dererves to be. Every person in
~" " .^.f-... .1^1. 11.^ 11 I. 1- 1,' _ 1.

tne United States having business with the rrovinces should secure acojiy of
public libraries shoukl be 8upi)lied with it,— Daily Eastern Arints,

it, and all publi
jfortland, Maine.

GHEAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

It is a book which many in this country are likely to find of great use for
daily reference, and which a great many otlu.Ts would do well to refer to f)cca-
sioimlly for more precise information about British North America than is
else\vhero procurable.— r/ie Exainiuer, London.

WTien we reflect on the vast extent of tci ritory which comes within the scope
of the book, and on the great difficulty there must have been in procuring the
necessary information, we are astonished that the enterprise was undertaken,
much more that it has been successfully caiTied out. Tlie volume need not
tear comparison vvitl the old established directories which flourish on this side
of the Atlantic. Thi- Athenwum, London.

This handsome volume, as bulky as the London Post Office Directory, is a
monument to the perseverance of its projector, Mr. Joiin Lovell, of Montreal,
Canada. This indefatigable gontlenian has spared no i)ains to render his w ork
thoroughly accurate, and having, no doubt, secured that result, the Dominion
Directory will prove a most uscfiM and reliable guide to our fellow-subjects of
the Dominion, and those here \\;io have business or other transactions with
them. We sincerely congratulate Mr. Lovell on the siu'cessfnl termination of
his immense labors, and trust that he will be amply rewarded for th^m.— Public
Opinion, London.

This is one of the most comprehensive directories we have seen. Its chief
specialty consists in the vast amount of information here given, whicli ia
conspicuous by its absence in ordinary directories ; for instance, we have here
details respecting the railways and steamboat conveyance, wherever they exist
in the Canadian Dominion, as Avell as respecting the religious societies, the
pros*, the Government, and custom houses, and inventions patented.
Another extremely interesting feature of the work, and not less valuable, is the
nistorical sketch with which the A^ork is prefaced. We can confidently recom-
mend the work as a most trustworthy authority on every point on which it
protesses to be a guide. —Evenm/j Standard, London.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

"^1 1^

2.5

2.2

12.0

U 11.6

"**.^,

HiotogTdphic

Sciences

Corporalion

23 WEST MAI^^ STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4SG3

.<t^

Tlte sij:e of tlie book i^ quiie ou)l)l''roa,i,ic of the vast erleat of llic Dominion,
and we slionlcl tliink an in^po'ilon of it mu t spo^Oily modify the views of
luanv with rogaitl to the iimiguifl< ixnce of C.i.udti in respoct of the population,
and the energy of the i;olouist=, li) is excf feelingly Avell sot lip, neatly printed,
and most useful as a book of reference.— C««rt6'/«tt News, London.

This extraordinary production ha« just appeared. We take great pleasure
in directing attention to the wonderful enterprise of its compiler, printer and
publisher. We have tested its accuracy as far as -our o-vvn personal knowledge
of Canada and Canadians go, and we have, in every instance, found it true and
faithful in a remarkable degree. All honor to Mr. John Lovell.— P<'i«'e'*<
Register, London.

Such a mass of iuformatiun renders detailed criticism impossible. All that
f .iu be said is that Mr. Lovell, tlic compiler, assures us that no labor or expense
Ins been spared to ensure the compifteness of his work, and the high character
of his .x"ent;3 in England—MesA's. Kelly & Co., the well-known dir-ctory pub-
liahev— -'curPH attention to his statement. The get-up of the book and the
general arrangement of its contents are equally gooii.— Daily Post, Liverpool.

This is a stupendous compilation, and every line of it is a fact. Ifc is highly
sn-'-estive too, aiid in the hands of the trader, the merchant, and all seeking
iaformatiou as to the outlets of trade, may be turned to good account. This
Dir-ctory should certainly be in tue hands of every exporter in the United
Kia^^dom It is got up regardless of expense, and is free from those contrac-
tions so pu7//,lin"' in our home durectories. To the emigrant or small capitalist
Becking an outlet for his labor or capital this work will prove invaluable.—
^'Juropean Mail, Liverpool.

This is an enormous book, being a directory, in the full sense of the word, for
the whole of Canada-an immense Dominion, as everybody knows, dotted with
thriving towns and growing villages. Its publication is opportune, Canada is
comin"' " to the front" more decidedly than she has yet done as a North Ameri-
can State Lovell's Directory of the Canadian Dominion does all that can be
done i'or meivhant, manufacturer, farmer, agent, and professional man. In
compass it exceeds all similar volumes— at least we know of none that can
compare with it in size or comprehensiveness.— iV/u«c/ie5<er Guardian.

The most amazing work of the kind we have seen for a long time is the new
Dominion Diractory. As a work of reference to all interested in colonization,
emiaratlon, and the future of the British provinces in America, it must certain-
ly prove invaXnahle.— Manchester Daily Examiner and Times.

A nonderous volune. Its compilation must have been a great undertaking.
Those who do busimss with Canada will doubtless find the work a valuable
adjunct to their counting howaa.—SheJield and Rotherham, Independant.

The Canadian Dominion Directory is in t^°t the largest work of the kind
ever produced, rivalling, if not excelling, the London Post Office Dii^ctory.
We acc^t without he^tation Mr. Lovell's assertion that neither trouble nor
expense has been spared to give the people cf the Dominion of Canada, and the
Provinces of NeXundland and Prince Edward Island a reliable Directory ;
and believe that the work must be simply invaluable to all tliose in the mother
Sonnti-y who have business relations with the Bominion.-Leeds Mercury.

This huge imperial octavo volume is probably one of the most remarkable
flttemots Iver niade in the production of Directories. It is really a national
nnSSin- It should with us find a place in all post, telegraph, shippins^
?ai?Sy and^m^-aS offices ; in our principal libraries and courts of law, »nd
newIrLms for general reference.-iVor^A British Daily Mai, Glasgow.

The volume is brimful of information, got up at enormous labor and
expense. To parties at all interested in Canada, it would be a most valuable
acquisition to their library.— //a/ni«on Adoertmr, Scotland.

This massive and comprehensive volume will be anxiously sought for by the
Irish public generally, and those who have relatives in any of the Canadian
provinces, in particular.— Zi/neric* Chronicle.

at of llic Dominion,
modify the views of
:t of the popnlfition,
t lip, neatly printed,
jondon.

take great pleasure
ompiler, printer and
personal knowledge
ce, f onnd it true and
n Itov e>\\.—Pnnteri

npossible. All that
; no labor or expense
id the high character
lown dir-^ctory pub-
of the book and the
\,ily Post, Lioerpool.
a fact. Ifc ia highly
ant, and all seeking
;ood account. This
orter in the United
from those contrac-
it or small capitalist
prove invaluable. —

ense of the word, for
r knows, dotted with
pportune. Canada is
ne as a North Ameri-
does all that can be
fofessional man. In
)W of none that can
r Ouardian.

long time is the new

sted in colonization,

irlca, it must certain-

es.

a great undertaking.

the work a valuable

i Indepeiidant.

est work of the kind
ost Oflace Directory,
t neither trouble nor
m of Canada, and the
a reliable Directory ;
I those in the mother
-Leeds Mercury.
;he most remarkable
t is really a national
telegraph, shipping,
nd courts of law, »nd
til, Glasgow.

snormous labor and

d be a most valuable

sly sought for by the

my of the Canadian