COMPANION POETS 
 
 i
 
 Companion poets 
 
 LAYS 
 
 SCOTTISH CAVALIERS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN 
 
 PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND BELLES LETTRES 
 IN THE UNIVERSITY- OF EDINBURGH 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION BY HENRY MORLEY, LL.D. 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITEI> 
 
 BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL, 
 GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK 
 
 1891
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN, says the friend 
 of kindred genius, Sir Theodore Martin, who in 
 1867 paid to him just honour by writing a Memoir 
 of his life, was descended from the scholar and 
 poet, Sir Robert Aytoun, of whom Ben Jonson was 
 loved dearly, as he told Drammond of Hawthorn- 
 den, and whom Hobbes of Malmesbury "made 
 use of for an Aristarchus, when he made his epistle 
 dedicatory for his translation of ' Thucydides.' " 
 Burns took the idea of his " Auld Lang Syne " 
 from Sir Robert Aytoun's poem beginning 
 
 " Should old acquaintance be forgot 
 And never thought upon. ' 
 
 The father of William Edmondstoune Aytoun 
 was Roger Aytoun, partner at Edinburgh in a 
 leading firm of Writers tc the Signet. Roger 
 Aytoun was a cultivated man, a Whig, and a 
 friend of Francis Jeffrey. He was married to a 
 lady who had beauty, piety, and love of romance 
 a Jacobite who, when a girl, had seen Walter 
 Scott in his boyhood, who delighted in the ballad 
 poetry of Scotland, and transmitted her tastes to 
 her only son. 
 
 William Edmondstoune Aytoun, born in June 
 1813, was the only son- of these parents ; but he 
 had two sisters, both of whom survived him, and 
 to whom his friend dedicated his Memoir. Aytoun 
 as a child was quick-witted, quick-tempered, and 
 5 
 
 2077626
 
 3Iimotmctioiu 
 
 ready at fun. When ten or eleven years old he 
 read with keen relish Scott's novels, and was glad 
 to i lay hold of the "Devil on Two Sticks," or 
 ' ' Humphrey Clinker. " As a schoolboy he was 
 full of animal spirits, too bright to be among the 
 dunces, but only getting enough Latin and Greek 
 to enable him to keep a fair place among school- 
 boys. His livelier sense of Latin and its literature, 
 as something real and enjoyable, he got at the 
 Edinburgh University from Professor Pillans. He 
 advanced less in Greek, though drawn especially 
 to Homer. He wrote much verse ; serious verse 
 in the manner of Pope and Dryden, ballads and 
 squibs after his own lively fashion. He delighted 
 also in field sports, and relished joyously the inter- 
 course with friends. It was at college that Theo- 
 dore Martin, also a student, but a few years 
 Aytoun's junior, first saw him, when he was 
 cleverly upsetting with an effective, unpremeditated 
 speech the effect of the forced oratory of leaders 
 in a students' meeting. That was in 1832, when 
 Aytoun's age was seventeen, and in the same year 
 his sympathy with the cause of the Poles led to his 
 publishing "Poland, Homer, and other Poems." 
 
 In the following year Aytoun came to London, 
 and spent several months in the chambers of a 
 busy solicitor and parliamentary agent. He satis- 
 fied himself that there would not be a career for 
 him as barrister in London, and spent the next 
 winter at Aschaffenburg for acquisition of the 
 German language and a study of its literature 
 under Professor J. E. Merkel. There he trans- 
 lated the first part of Faust into English verse, 
 and he wished to publish the translation. At 
 the same time, while urging his disinclination and 
 unfitness against his father's wish that he should 
 be a Writer to the Signet, he indicated the Chair 
 of Belles Lettres in the -University as a suitable 
 object of ambition, for which he might fit himself 
 by literary studies. Aytoun's translation of Faust 
 never was published. When he returned to Edin-
 
 Jlntronuction. 
 
 burgh in April 1834, he found no fewer than four 
 new translations of Faust, either published or 
 announced as in the press. Aytoun delighted 
 also in the German fun and the bright poetical 
 fancy of Tieck, and was stimulated by his contact 
 with the German mind to much literary activity. 
 But as Law seemed to be the only profession open 
 to him, he passed the necessary examinations, was 
 admitted in 1835 as Writer to the Signet, and 
 worked in the chambers of his father's firm. But 
 its business declined, and Aytoun resolved to try 
 his fortune at the Scottish Bar, to which he was 
 called in 1840. His known pursuit of literature 
 did him no good with the solicitors. He had 
 published in Black-wood translations from Uhland, 
 and had translated the 22nd book of the " Iliad " 
 into English trochaics. In November 1839 his 
 poem of " Hermotimus" had appeared in Black- 
 wood; in May 1840 he published, in Black-wood, 
 translations from the Romaic ; and in December 
 1841, also in Black-wood, his poem of " Blind 
 Old Milton." In 1840, also, his " Life and 
 Times of Richard the First " appeared in the 
 series of the " Family Library." As a barrister he 
 did get, however, a moderate share of work, and 
 did it well, especially criminal business, upon the 
 Western Circuit. 
 
 By the wit, fun, and bright sense of literature 
 which give permanent life to the caricatures of the 
 Bon Gaultier Ballads, Theodore Martin first drew 
 Aytoun to his side. The Bon Gaultier Ballads, 
 which his new friend had begun to contribute to 
 the magazines, tickled his fancy, and when he 
 found that it was proposed to produce more, he 
 undertook to join in their production. " In this 
 way," says his biographer, " a kind of Beaumont 
 and Fletcher partnership commenced in a series 
 of humorous papers, which appeared in Taifs and 
 Eraser's Magazines during the years 1842, 1843, 
 and 1844. In these papers, in which we ran 
 a-tilt, with all the recklessness of youthful spirits,
 
 viii 3)ntr0Duction. 
 
 against such of the tastes or follies of the day as 
 presented an opening for ridicule or mirth, at the 
 same time that we did not altogether lose sight 
 of a purpose higher than mere amusement, ap- 
 peared the verses, with a few exceptions, which 
 subsequently became popular, to a degree we 
 then little contemplated, as the ' Bon Gaultier 
 Ballads.'" The whimsical imitations in these 
 ballads of the manner of many poets was far in 
 advance of the mere fun of the " Rejected Ad- 
 dresses." It was possible only to men of high 
 spirits, with eager relish for literature and a living 
 sense of it, who in sympathy with men of genius 
 might feel, each for himself, "Auch ich war in 
 Arkadien geboren." "It was precisely the poets 
 whom we most admired," says Theodore Martin, 
 ' ' that we imitated the most frequently. Let no 
 one parody a poet unless he loves him. He must 
 first be penetrated by his spirit, and have steeped 
 his ear in the music of his verse, before he can re- 
 flect these under a humorous aspect with success." 
 In pleasant differences lies much of the charm 
 of friendship, and with the poetry in Aytoun's 
 nature there had grown from his first lessons at 
 his mother's knee a romantic cavalier attachment 
 to the Stuarts ; a historical faith which, says his 
 friend, " was to him only less sacred than his 
 religious creed." His Scottish attachment to the 
 Stuarts, " was so real that it coloured his views 
 of the history of that dynasty and its followers to 
 a degree which surprised those who knew how 
 critical was his observation and how practical hi? 
 judgment in all other matters. Touch this theme 
 at any time, even when his flow of mirthful spirits 
 was at its. fullest, and his tremulous voice and 
 quivering lip told how deeply-seated were his 
 feelings in all that related to it. On any other 
 point he would bear to be rallied, but not upon 
 this." Nettled by Thackeray's just treatment of 
 Mary Stuart in one of his " Lectures on the 
 Four Georges," when those lectures were given at
 
 UntroBuctton. 
 
 Edinburgh, Aytoun said to him with unwonted 
 harshness, "Stick to your Jeameses, Thackeray! 
 They are more in your line than the Georges." 
 The knowledge of this feeling in Aytoun will put 
 some of the requisite heartiness into the reading 
 of this book of his best serious verse, the " Lays 
 of the Scottish Cavaliers." The first of his ballads, 
 which obtained for him the first success in serious 
 verse, was the " Burial March of Dundee," which 
 appeared in Black-woods Magazine for April 1843. 
 When he wrote it his father was dying, and his 
 father died not many days before its publication. 
 His father's death left Aytoun free, without home 
 antagonism, to take his natural side as a party 
 writer. He couid only be a Conservative in 
 politics. 
 
 In few cases did Aytoun make a more effective 
 use of his powers than in the earnest humour of 
 his protest against the disastrous Railway Mania, 
 entitled " How we got up the Glenmutchkin Rail- 
 way, and how we got out of it." 
 
 In 1845 the removal of Professor Spalding to 
 St. Andrew's left vacant the chair of Rhetoric and 
 Belles Lettres in the University of Edinburgh. As 
 a student in Germany he had named to his father 
 this chair as an object of ambition. Literature 
 was the work for which he was most fit. He had 
 been toiling at the Bar with slow success, while 
 gradually earning his good name among writers. 
 The salary attached to the chair was only jioo, 
 and the annual income from fees did not exceed 
 .130. He obtained the chair, and raised the 
 number of the students from thirty in 1846 to 
 upwards of 150 in 1864. He had also before his 
 appointment become, as a contributor, intimately 
 connected with Black-wood's Magazine, and for 
 many years after 1844 wrote for it almost monthly. 
 In April 1849 Aytoun was married to the youngest 
 daughter of Professor Wilson, and it was only 
 then that he ceased to reside with his mother 
 and sisters. When Lord Derby came into office 
 
 A 2
 
 Jlntrotwction. 
 
 in 1852 a vacancy in the sheriffship of Orkney 
 and Zetland enabled him to requite with that 
 office Aytoun's political services. Aytoun punc- 
 tually fulfilled his duties, and usually spent in 
 the Orkneys a part of the summer months. In 
 June 1853 Professor Aytoun received from Oxford 
 the honorary degree of D.C.L. 
 
 In May 1854 there appeared in Black-wood 
 Aytoun's sham criticism of an unpublished tragedy, 
 " Firmilian," by Percy Jones. The criticism and 
 the extracts were both from one hand, but they 
 took in many of the critics, and Aytoun was led 
 to crown his joke by publishing a complete 
 tragedy of "Firmilian," in caricature of the 
 spasmodic style. At the end of 1855 Aytoun 
 began to write his " Bothwell," which was pub- 
 lished in the following year, and with which he was 
 never himself satisfied. Then, after a few months' 
 rest from literary labour, he was hard at work 
 again. In 1857 he prepared an edition of Scottish 
 Ballads. In 1858 he was busy with his friend, 
 Theodore Martin, upon a reprint of their transla- 
 tion of Goethe's Ballads and minor poems, which 
 had appeared in Blackwood in 1843-44. In April 
 1859 Aytoun's wife died, leaving him childless. 
 "Night after night," says Mr. John Blackwood, 
 " I used to call in upon him, and anything more 
 melancholy than our old bright companion, sitting 
 with his head leaning on his hands, cheerless and 
 helpless, I never saw." 
 
 After this time Aytoun's health broke. He began 
 to publish in Black-wood his novel of "Norman 
 Sinclair," diffuse and ill-arranged, but full of good 
 thought and covert personal reminiscence. He 
 was sleepless and plagued with dyspepsia, in which, 
 as he painted its agonies, " a mutton chop becomes 
 a fiery crab, rending the interior with its claws; 
 and even rice-pudding has the intolerable effrontery 
 to become revivified as a hedgehog." In 1861 he 
 sought health at the baths at Homburg. In 
 November of that year his mother died, at the age
 
 31ntronuctton. 
 
 of ninety. In 1862 he went again to Homburg. 
 He had grown thinner, and there was hectic flush 
 upon his cheek. After this time he wrote but 
 little. He sought comfort in a second marriage in 
 December 1863, was happy in it, and improved 
 in health till, in the winter of 1864, the old dis- 
 tressing symptoms recurred. Next year he tried 
 summer quarters in Scotland ; in June 1865 wrote 
 a vigorous political article for Blackwood. But on 
 the 4th of the next August he died, sinking so 
 rapidly that his sisters, summoned by telegram 
 from Edinburgh, did not arrive till some hours 
 after his death. "We went straight to his room," 
 writes one of them, "and there he lay like a 
 statue, with a heavenly smile upon his lips, and 
 the colour in his cheek. It did not look like 
 death ; and they bad laid him out with bunches of 
 his favourite white roses on his breast." 
 
 H. M.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 of tbc Scottish Cavaliers. 
 
 I'AGK 
 
 EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN . . 15 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE . -31 
 
 THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. . . 47 
 
 THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEK . 59 
 
 THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE ... 77 
 THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS . . -91 
 
 CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES . 1 07 
 THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER . . 143 
 
 miscellaneous poems. 
 
 BLIND OLD MILTON . . . . 157 
 
 HERMOTIMUS l62 
 
 CENONE . . . . . I7O 
 
 THE BURIED FLOWER .... 173 
 
 THE OLD CAMP ... . . . l8o 
 
 DANUBE AND THE EUXINE . . . 183 
 THE SCHEIK OF SINAI . . . .185 
 
 EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE KANARIS . 189 
 
 THE REFUSAL OF CHARON . . . 190
 
 EDINBURGH AFTER PLODDEN. 
 
 THE great battle of Flodden was fought upon the 
 gth of September 1513. The defeat of the Scottish 
 army, mainly owing to the fantastic ideas of chivalry 
 entertained by James IV. , and his refusal to avail 
 himself of the natural advantages of his position, 
 was by far the most disastrous of any recounted 
 in the history of the northern wars. The whole 
 strength of the kingdom, both Lowland and High- 
 land, was assembled, and the contest was one of 
 the sternest and most desperate upon record. 
 
 For several hours the issue 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 Earl 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 pourage of the 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. 
 
 "It is owned," says Abercromby, "that both 
 parties did wonders, but none on either side per- 
 formed more than the King himself. He was 
 '5
 
 i6 eainfmrgl) after JFIoDDen. 
 
 again told that by coming to handy blows he 
 could do no more than another man, whereas, by 
 keeping the post due to his station, he might be 
 worth many thousands. Yet he would not only 
 fight in person, but also on foot ; for he no sooner 
 saw that body of the English give way which was 
 defeated by the Earl 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 success ; but 
 at length the Lord Thomas Howard and Sir 
 Edward Stanley, who had defeated their opposites, 
 coming in with the Lord Dacre's horse, and sur- 
 rounding 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 re- 
 solved to die nobly with their sovereign, 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 upon a hill, and 
 were about to charge the Lord-Admiral, when they 
 were compelled to leave their position by a dis- 
 charge 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 high rank; the re- 
 mainder being composed of the gentry, the
 
 nml>urjr.T) after JFIonuen. 17 
 
 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 re- 
 capitulation, since there were few families of note 
 in Scotland which did not lose one relative or 
 another, whilst some houses had to weep the 
 death of all. It is from this cause that the 
 sensations of sorrow and national lamentation 
 occasioned by the defeat were peculiarly poignant 
 and lasting so that to this day few Scotsmen 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. 
 There seems to be some uncertainty whether the 
 holder of this dignity at the time of the battle of 
 Hodden was Sir Alexander Lauder, ancestor of the 
 Fountainhall family, who was elected in 1511, or 
 that great historical personage, Archibald Earl of 
 Angus, better known as Archibald Bell-the-Cat, 
 who was chosen in 1513, 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 Eari of Angus
 
 i8 Cttnburffl) after jFloiiDen. 
 
 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 Provost, and that four other persons 
 were selected to discharge the office 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 Edin- 
 burgh it was excessive. 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 overwhelmed 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 the inhabitants to assemble in military 
 array for defence of the city, on the tolling of 
 the bell ; and commanding, ' that all women, and 
 especially strangers, do repair to their work, and 
 not be seen upon the street clanwrand and cryand ; 
 and that women of the better sort do repair to the 
 church and offer up prayers, at the stated hours, 
 for our Sovereign Ix>rd and his army, and the 
 townsmen who are with the army.' " 
 
 Indeed, the council records bear ample evidence 
 of the emergency of that occasion. Throughout 
 the earlier pages, the word " Flowdoun " frequently 
 occurs on the margin, in reference to various 
 hurried orders for arming and defence ; and there 
 can be no doubt that, had the English forces 
 attempted to follow up their victory, and attack 
 the Scottish capital, the citizens would have re- 
 sisted to the last. But it soon became apparent 
 that the loss sustained by the English was so severe, 
 that Surrey was in no condition to avail himself of
 
 after JFIoDBen. 19 
 
 the opportunity ; and in fact, shortly afterwards, 
 he was compelled to disband his army. 
 
 The references to the city banner, contained in 
 the following poem, may require a word of ex- 
 planation. It is a standard still held in great 
 honour and reverence by the burghers of Edin- 
 burgh, having been presented to them by James III. , 
 in return for their loyal service in 1482. This 
 banner, along with that of the 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 more memorable field. Maitland 
 says, with reference to this very interesting relic 
 of antiquity 
 
 "As a perpetual remembrance of the loyalty 
 and bravery of the Edinburghers on the aforesaid 
 occasion, the King granted them a banner or 
 standard, with a power to display the same in 
 defence of their king, country, and their own 
 rights. This flag is kept by the Convener of the 
 Trades ; at whose appearance therewith, it is said 
 that not only the artificers of Edinburgh 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 Edinburgh as 
 aforesaid." 
 
 No event in Scottish history ever took a more 
 lasting hold of the public mind than the "woeful 
 fight" of Flodden ; 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.
 
 EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEK. 
 
 NEWS of battle ! news of battle ! 
 
 Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street : 
 And the archways and the pavement 
 
 Bear the clang of hurrying feet. 
 News of battle ? 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 one 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 ! Who hath brought it ? 
 
 All are thronging to the gate ; 
 " Warder warder ! open quickly ! 
 
 Man is this a time to wait?" 
 And the heavy gates are opened : 
 
 Then a murmur long and loud, 
 And a cry of fear and wonder 
 
 Bursts from out the bending crowd. 
 For they see in battered harness 
 
 Only one hard-stricken man, 
 And his weary steed is wounded. 
 
 And his cheek is pale and wan.
 
 <um!mtjjt) after jflotinetu 
 
 Spearless hangs a bloody banner 
 In his weak and drooping hand- 
 
 God ! can that be Randolph Murray, 
 Captain of the city band ? 
 
 Round him crush the people, crying, 
 
 "Tell us all oh, tell us true ! 
 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, unfollowed ? 
 
 Is it weal, or is it woe ? " 
 Like a corpse the grisly warrior 
 
 Looks from out his helm of steel ; 
 But no word he speaks in answer. 
 
 Only with his armed 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 ! 
 
 Tell us what mischance hath come ; " 
 Then he lifts his riven banner, 
 
 And the asker's voice is dumb. 
 
 The elders of the city 
 
 Have met within their hall 
 The men whom good 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. 
 My trumpet from the Border-side 
 
 Shall send a blast so clear, 
 That all who wait within the gate 
 
 That stirring sound may hear.
 
 22 Bttrf>urgfj after JFIonnett. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 Then in came Randolph Murray, 
 
 His step was slow and weak, 
 And, as he doffed his dinted helm, 
 
 The tears ran down his cheek : 
 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 sons were with the King. 
 
 And up then rose the Provost 
 
 A brave old man was he, 
 Of ancient name, and knightly fame, 
 
 And chivalrous degree. 
 He ruled our city like a Lord 
 
 Who brooked no equal here, 
 And ever for the townsmen's rights 
 
 Stood up 'gainst prince and peer.
 
 Dtivbtmr.fj after jHotmett. 23 
 
 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 by Randolph's side, 
 With casque on head and spur on heel, 
 
 All keen to do and dare ; 
 And proudly did that gallant boy 
 
 Dunedin's banner bear. 
 Oh woeful now was the old man's look, 
 
 And he spake right heavily 
 " Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings, 
 
 However sharp they be ! 
 Woe is written on thy visage, 
 
 Death is looking from thy face : 
 Speak, though it be of overthrow 
 
 It cannot be disgrace ! " 
 
 Right bitter was the agony 
 That wrung that soldier proud : 
 
 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 your 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. 
 
 Ay ! ye well may look upon it- 
 There is more than honour there.
 
 24 ffiUtniwrfltf) after JFIoBDett. 
 
 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 ! ' 
 
 Woe, woe, and lamentation ! 
 
 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 ! our King has fallen 
 
 O great God, King James is gone ! 
 Holy Mother Mary, shield us, 
 
 Thou who erst didst lose thy Son ! 
 O the blackest day for Scotland 
 
 That she ever knew before ! 
 O our King the good, the noble, 
 
 Shall we see him never more ? 
 Woe to us and woe to Scotland ! 
 
 O our sons, our sons and men ! 
 Surely some have 'scaped the Southron, 
 
 Surely some will come again ! " 
 Till the oak that fell last winter 
 
 Shall uprear its shattered stem- 
 Wives and mothers of Dunedin 
 
 Ye may look in vain for them ! 
 
 But within the Council Chamber 
 All was silent as the grave,
 
 <2:DtnI)tirgT) after jFIoBCen. 25 
 
 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 ! 
 Like a knell of 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. 
 
 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 few. 
 For thou hast not shamed to face us, 
 
 Nor to speak thy ghastly tale, 
 Standing thou, a knight and captain- 
 Here, alive within thy mail ! 
 Now, as my God shall judge me, 
 
 I hold it braver done, 
 Than hadst thou tarried in thy place, 
 
 And died above my son ! 
 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, 
 
 'Twere something still to tell 
 That no Scottish foot went backward 
 
 When the Royal Lion fell ! " 
 
 B
 
 26 (Sntnburgt) after flotucn. 
 
 " Xo one failed him ! He is keeping 
 
 Royal state and semblance still ; 
 Knight and noble lie around him, 
 
 Cold on Flodden's fatal hill. 
 Of the brave and gallant-hearted, 
 
 Whom ye sent with prayers away. 
 Not a single man departed 
 
 From his monarch yesterday. 
 Had you seen them, O my masters ! 
 
 When the night began to fall, 
 And the English spearmen gathered 
 
 Round a grim and ghastly wall ! 
 As the wolves in winter circle 
 
 Round the leaguer on the heath, 
 So the greedy foe glared upward, 
 
 Panting still for blood and death. 
 But a rampart rose before them, 
 
 Which the boldest dared not scale ; 
 Every stone a Scottish body, 
 
 Every step a corpse in mail ! 
 And behind it lay our monarch 
 
 Clenching still his shivered sword : 
 By his side Montrose and Athole, 
 
 At his feet a southern lord. 
 All so thick they lay together. 
 
 When the 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 host withdrew ; 
 None but dying men around me, 
 
 When the English trumpet blew. 
 Then I stooped, and took the banner, 
 
 As ye see it, from his breast, 
 And I closed our hero's eyelids, 
 
 And I left him to his rest. 
 In the mountains growled the thunder, 
 As I leaped the woeful wall,
 
 after JtoDUen. 27 
 
 And the heavy clouds were settling 
 Over Flodden, like a pal!." 
 
 So he ended. And the others 
 
 Cared 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 idly on the spray. 
 But, without, the maddening tumult 
 
 Waxes ever more and more, 
 And the crowd of wailing 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 ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 No ! not yet, thou high Dunedin ! 
 
 Shalt thou totter to thy fall ; 
 Though thy bravest and thy strongest 
 
 Are not there to man the wall. 
 No, not yet ! the ancient spirit 
 
 Of our fathers hath not gone ;
 
 28 CntniurgT) after JFIoDDcn." 
 
 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, 
 
 And to side with Wallace, crime ! 
 Have they not a voice among us, 
 
 Whilst their hallowed dust is here ? 
 Hear ye not a summons sounding 
 
 From each buried warrior's bier? 
 Up ! they say and keep the freedom 
 
 Which we won you long ago : 
 Up ! and keep our graves unsullied 
 
 From the insults of the foe ! 
 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 ! 
 
 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 ! " 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 
 
 Never shall be broke by me.
 
 -Dinburgif) after JFIoutien. 29 
 
 .ath is nearer to us, brethren, 
 ' Than it seemed to those who died, 
 Fighting yesterday at Flodden, 
 
 By their lord and master's side. 
 Let us meet it then in patience, 
 
 Not in terror or in fear ; 
 Though our hearts are bleeding yonder, 
 
 Let our souls be steadfast here. 
 Up, and rouse ye ! Time is fleeting, 
 
 And we yet have much to do ; 
 Up ! 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 ! do thou bear it, 
 
 As it erst was borne before : 
 Never Scottish heart will leave it. 
 
 When they see their monarch's gore! 
 
 1 ' Let 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? 
 Bid them cease, or rather hasten 
 
 To the churches, every one ; 
 There to pray to Mary Mother, 
 
 And to her anointed Son, 
 That the thunderbolt above us 
 
 May not fall in ruin yet ; 
 That in fire, and blood, and rapine, 
 
 Scotland's glory may not set.
 
 30 (Entnturjyt) after JFIotmen. 
 
 Let them pray, for never women 
 
 Stood in need of such a prayer ! 
 England's yeomen shall not find them 
 
 Clinging to the altars there. 
 N T o ! if we are doomed to perish, 
 
 Man and maiden, let us fall ; 
 And a common gulf of ruin 
 
 Open wide to whelm us all ! 
 Never shall the ruthless spoiler 
 
 Lay his hot insulting hand 
 On the sisters of our heroes, 
 
 Whilst we bear a torch or brand ! 
 Up ! 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 meet together, 
 
 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, 
 
 HE will be our strength and tower : 
 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 foeman 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 gravel"
 
 THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 
 
 THE most poetical chronicler would find it im- 
 possible to render the incidents of Montrose's 
 brilliant career more picturesque than the reality. 
 Among the devoted champions 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 
 foremost 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 
 Cond6 and Turenne, when he thus summed up 
 his character : " Montrose, a Scottish nobleman, 
 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 thrown into the shade by the 
 noble magnanimity and Christian heroism of the 
 man in the hour of defeat 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 Scottish 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
 
 32 3T(je j:ccutton of ontroge. 
 
 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 forgiven. But the ignominious and savage 
 treatment which he received at the hands of those 
 whose station and descent should at least have 
 taught them to respect misfortune, has left an in- 
 delible 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 displayed to the last, have been dwelt 
 upon with admiration by writers of every class. 
 He heard his sentence delivered without any appa- 
 rent 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 hung 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 of 
 his unshaken love and fidelity to his king and 
 country." On the night before his execution, he 
 inscribed the following lines with a diamond on 
 the window of his jail : 
 
 " Let them bestow on every airth a limb, 
 Then open all my veins, that I may swim 
 To thee, my Maker ! in that crimson lake ; 
 Then place my parboiled head upon a stake 
 Scatter my ashes strew them in the air : 
 Lord 1 since thou know'st where all these atoms are, 
 I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust, 
 And confident thou'lt raise me with the just. "
 
 of Sj9cmtroge> 33 
 
 After the Restoration, the dust was recovered, 
 the scattered remnants collected, and the bones of 
 the hero conveyed to their final resting-place by a 
 numerous assemblage of gentlemen of his family 
 and name, 
 
 There is no ingredient of fiction in the historical 
 incidents recorded in the following ballad. The 
 indignities that were heaped upon Montrose during 
 his procession through Edinburgh, his appearance 
 before the Estates, and his last passage to the 
 scaffold, as well as his undaunted bearing, have all 
 been spoken to by eye-witnesses 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 " a work as chivalrous in its 
 tone as the Chronicles of Froissart, and abounding 
 in original and most interesting materials ; but, 
 in order to satisfy all scruple, the authorities for 
 each fact are given in the shape of notes. The 
 ballad may be considered as a narrative of the 
 transactions, related by an aged Highlander, 
 who had followed Montrose throughout his cam- 
 paigns, to his grandson, shortly before the battle 
 of Killiecrankie.
 
 THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 
 
 COME 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 ! 
 
 Twas I that led the Highland host 
 
 Through wild Lochaber's snows, 
 What time the plaided clans came down 
 
 To battle with Montrose. 
 I've told thee how the Southrons fell 
 
 Beneath the broad claymore, 
 And how we smote the Campbell clan 
 
 By Inverlochy's shore. 
 I've told thee how we swept Dundee, 
 
 And tamed the Lindsay's pride ; 
 But never have I told thee yet 
 
 How the Great Marquis died ! 
 
 A traitor sold him to his foes ; 
 O deed of deathless shame ! 
 34
 
 (JEjcccutton of SSJotttrojse. 35 
 
 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 armed 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 ! 
 
 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, 
 
 And bade him pass along. 
 
 It would have made a brave man's heart 
 
 Grow sad and sick that day, 
 To watch the keen malignant eyes 
 
 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 !
 
 36 tT)e (Execution of $a9ontro0e. 
 
 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 they knew the hero's soul 
 
 Was face to face with death. 
 And then a mournful shudder 
 
 Through all the people crept, 
 And some that came to scoff at him, 
 
 Now turn'd aside and wept. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But onwards always onwards, 
 
 In silence and in gloom, 
 The dreary pageant laboured, 
 
 Till it reach'd the house of doom : 
 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 Graeme looked upwards, 
 
 He met the ugly smile 
 Of him who sold his King for gold 
 
 The master-fiend Argyle ! 
 
 The Marquis gazed a moment, 
 
 And nothing did he say, 
 But the cheek 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 !
 
 <]tecutton of SBJontrose. 37 
 
 For seven long years thou hast not dared 
 To look him in the face." 
 
 Had I been there with sword in hand, 
 
 And fifty Camerons by, 
 That day through high Dunedin's streets 
 
 Had pealed the slogan cry. 
 Not all their troops of trampling horse, 
 
 Nor might of mailed men 
 Not all the rebels of the south 
 
 Had borne us backwards then ! 
 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 ! 
 
 x. 
 
 It might not be. They placed him next 
 
 Within the solemn hall, 
 Where once the Scottish Kings were throned 
 
 Amidst their nobles all. 
 But there was dust of vulgar feet 
 
 On that polluted floor, 
 And perjured traitors filled the place 
 
 Where good men sate before. 
 With savage glee came Warristoun 
 
 To read the murderous doom, 
 And then uprose the great Montrose 
 
 In the middle of the room. 
 
 " 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 ! 
 By that dark stream of royal blood 
 
 That lies 'twixt you and me
 
 
 38 Cfje <jcecutiott of 
 
 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 ! 
 
 " There is a chamber far away 
 
 Where sleep the good and brave, 
 But a better place ye have named for me 
 
 Than by my father's grave. 
 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. 
 Then nail my head on yonder tower 
 
 Give every town a limb 
 And God who made shall gather them : 
 
 I go from you to Him !" 
 
 The morning dawned full darkly, 
 
 The rain came flashing down, 
 And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt 
 
 Lit up the gloomy town : 
 The heavens were thundering out their wrath, 
 
 The fatal hour was come ; 
 Yet ever sounded sullenly 
 
 The trumpet and the drum. 
 There was madness on the earth below, 
 
 And anger in the sky, 
 And young and old, and rich and poor, 
 
 Came forth to see him die. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Ah, God ! that ghastly gibbet ! 
 
 How dismal 'tis to see 
 The great tall spectral skeleton. 
 
 The ladder, and the tree ! 
 Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms 
 
 The bells begin to toll
 
 (Execution of 09<mtroi$e. 39 
 
 He is coming ! he is coming ! 
 
 God's mercy on his soul ! 
 One last long peal of thunder 
 
 The clouds are cleared away, 
 And the glorious sun once more looks down 
 
 Amidst the dazzling day. 
 
 xv. 
 
 He is coming ! 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 ! 
 
 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 : 
 
 Yet a black and murky battlement 
 Lay resting on the hill. 
 
 As though the thunder slept within- 
 All else was calm and stilL 
 
 The grim Geneva ministers 
 With anxious scowl drew near, 
 
 As you have seen the ravens flock 
 Around the dying deer.
 
 40 tsrije (JEjcecutton of J9ontroge. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 !
 
 NOTES TO "THE EXECUTION OF 
 MONTROSE." 
 
 " A traitor sold him to his foes, 1 " p. 34. 
 
 'The contemporary historian of the Earls of 
 Sutherland records, that (after the defeat of Inver- 
 carron) Montrose and Kinnoull ' wandered up the 
 river Kyle the whole ensuing night, and the next 
 day, and the third day also, without any food or 
 sustenance, and at last came within the country of 
 Assynt. The Earl of Kinnoull, being faint for lack 
 of meat, and not able to travel any further, was 
 left there among the mountains, where it was sup- 
 posed he perished. Montrose had almost famished , 
 but that he fortuned in his misery to light upon 
 a small cottage in that wilderness, where he was 
 supplied with some milk and bread.' Not even 
 the iron frame of Montrose could endure a pro- 
 longed existence under such circumstances. He 
 gave himself up to Macleod of Assynt, a former 
 adherent, from whom he had reason to expect 
 assistance in consideration of that circumstance, 
 and, indeed, from the dictates of honourable feeling 
 and common humanity. As the Argyle faction had 
 sold the King, so this Highlander rendered his 
 own name infamous by selling the hero to the 
 Covenanters, for which ' duty to the public ' he 
 was rewarded with four hundred bolls of meal." 
 NAPIER'S Life of Mcntrose. 
 
 " They brought him to the Watergate" p. 35. 
 
 "Friday, i-jth May. Act ordaining James 
 Grahame to be brought from the Watergate on
 
 42 tEfie QEjcecutton of 9J9ontro0e. 
 
 a cart, bareheaded, the hangman in his livery, 
 covered, riding on the horse that draws the cart 
 the prisoner to be bound to the cart with a rope 
 to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and from thence to 
 be brought to the Parliament House, and there, in 
 the place of delinquents, on his knees, to receive 
 his sentence viz. , to be hanged on a gibbet at the 
 Cross of Edinburgh, with his book and declaration 
 tied on a rope about his neck, and there to hang 
 for the space of three hours until he be dead ; and 
 thereafter to be cut down by the hangman, his 
 head, hands, and legs to be cut off, and distributed 
 as follows viz., His head 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 on 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 
 gallows." 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 
 Wigton Papers, recently published by the Maitland 
 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. 36. 
 
 "In all the way, there appeared in him such 
 majesty, courage, modesty and even somewhat 
 more than natural that those common women
 
 <jeecutton of SJ9otttr.0j5e. 43 
 
 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 for not stoning and reviling him." Wigton 
 Papers. 
 
 " Then first a woman's voice -was heard 
 In jeer and laughter loud," p. 36. 
 
 " It is remarkable that, of the many 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 Aldford ! 
 
 " For seven long years thou hast not dared 
 To look him in the face," p. 37. 
 
 "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 Warristoun 
 sat that they might have time to insult he, 
 suspecting the business, turned his face towards 
 them, whereupon they presently crept in at the 
 windows ; which being perceived by an English- 
 man, 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. 
 
 " With, savage glee came Warristoun 
 To read the murderous doom," p. 37. 
 
 Archibald Johnston of Warristoun. This man,
 
 44 
 
 of 
 
 who was the inveterate enemy of Montrose, and 
 who carried the 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 others 
 waited to examine him ; he fell upon his face, 
 roaring, and with tears entreated they would pity 
 a poor creature 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 silly 
 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 with 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 Him .'" p. 38. 
 
 " He said he was much beholden to the parlia- 
 ment for the honour they put on him ; ' for,' says 
 he, ' I think it a greater honour to have my head 
 standing on the port of this town, for this quarrel, 
 than to have my picture in the king's bedchamber. 
 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.' " 
 Wigton Papers. 
 
 " He is coming ! he is coming ! 
 Like a bridegroom from his room," p. 39.
 
 QEjcecutton of 0ontro$e. 45 
 
 "In his downgoing from the Tolbooth to the 
 place of execution, he was very richly 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 
 incarnate silk, and his shoes with their ribbands on 
 his feet ; and sarks provided for him with pearling 
 about, above ten pund the elne. All these were 
 provided for him by his friends, and a pretty cas- 
 sock put on upon him, upon the scaffold, wherein 
 he was hanged. To be short, nothing was here 
 deficient to honour his poor carcase, more beseem- 
 ing a bridegroom than a criminal going to the 
 gallows. " NICHOLL'S Diary. 
 
 " The grim Geneva ministers 
 
 With anxious scowl drew near," p. 39. 
 
 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 : " 
 " By a warrant from the kirk, we staid a while with 
 him about his soul's condition. But we found him 
 continuing in his old pride, and taking very ill what 
 was spoken to him, saying, ' I pray 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 among 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 morrow on 
 the scaffold, at the time of his execution, that, in 
 case he should desire to be relaxed from his excom- 
 munication, we should be allowed to give it unto him 
 in the name of the kirk, and to pray with him, and 
 for him, that what is loosed on earth might be loosed 
 in heaven." But this pious intention, which may 
 appear somewhat strange to the modern Calvinist,
 
 46 Cbe execution of (B9ontroj!e. 
 
 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 be 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. 40. 
 
 " 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 first 
 appearance, had bitterly inveighed against him, 
 could not now abstain from tears." Montrose 
 Redivivus.
 
 THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 
 
 HECTOR BOECE, in his very delightful, though 
 somewhat apocryphal Chronicles of Scotland, tells 
 us, that " quhen Schir James Dowglas was chosin 
 as maist worthy of all Scotland to pass with King 
 Robertis hart to the Holy Land, he put it in ane 
 cais of gold, with arromitike and precious unye- 
 mentis ; and tuke with him Schir William Sinclare 
 and Schir Robert Logan, with mony othir nobilmen, 
 to the haly graif ; quhare he buryit the said hart, 
 with maist reverence and solempnitie that could be 
 devisit." 
 
 But no contemporary historian bears out the 
 statement of the old canon of Aberdeen. Froissart, 
 Fordan, and Barbour all agree that the devotional 
 pilgrimage 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, that I do not hesitate to adopt his 
 narrative : 
 
 " As soon as the season of the year permitted, 
 Douglas, having the heart of his beloved master 
 under his charge, set sail from Scotland, accom- 
 panied by a splendid retinue, and anchored off 
 Sluys in Flanders, at this time the great seaport 
 of the Netherlands. His object was to find out 
 companions with whom he might travel to Jeru- 
 salem ; but he declined landing, and for twelve 
 days received all visitors on board his ship with a 
 state almost kingly. 
 
 47
 
 4? 3T&e *cart of tfce "Bruce. 
 
 "At Sluys he heard that Alonzo, the King of 
 Leon and Castile, was carrying on war with Osmyn, 
 the Moorish governor of Grenada. 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 Infidels 
 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 com- 
 panions, 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 sur- 
 rounded 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 jeopardy. 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 ! ' The action and the sentiment were heroic, 
 and they were the last words and deed of a heroic 
 life, for Douglas fell overpowered by his enemies ; 
 and three of his knights, and many of his com- 
 panions, 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."
 
 JDeart of tlje TBtttce. 49 
 
 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 bearings of the Bloody Heart 
 surmounted by the Crown ; and a similar dis- 
 tinction 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 custody of the heart devolved. Hence the 
 name of Lockhart, and their effigy, the Heart 
 within a Fetterlock.
 
 THE HEART OF THE BRUCR 
 
 IT was upon an April morn, 
 
 While yet the frost lay hoar, 
 We heard Lord James's bugle-horn 
 
 Sound by the rocky shore. 
 
 Then down we went, a hundred knights, 
 
 All in our dark array, 
 And flung our armour in the ships 
 
 That rode within the bay. 
 
 We spoke not as the shore grew less, 
 
 But gazed in silence back, 
 Where the long billows swept away 
 
 The foam behind our track. 
 
 And aye the purple hues decay' d 
 
 Upon the fading hill, 
 And but one heart in all that ship 
 
 Was tranquil, cold, and still. 
 
 The good Lord Douglas walk'd the deck, 
 
 And oh, his brow was wan ! 
 Unlike the flush it used to wear 
 
 When in the battle van. 
 
 " Come hither, come hither, my trusty knight, 
 
 Sir Simon of the Lee ; 
 There is a freit lies near my soul 
 
 I fain would tell to thee. 
 5
 
 Ipeart of tfie Bruce. 51 
 
 ' ' Thou knowest the words King Robert spoke 
 
 Upon his dying day, 
 How he bade me take his noble heart 
 
 And carry it far away ; 
 
 ' ' 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. 
 
 " Last night as in my bed I lay, 
 
 I dream'd a dreary dream : 
 Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand 
 
 In the moonlight's quivering beam. 
 
 " His robe was of the azure dye, 
 
 Snow-white his scatter'd hairs, 
 And even such a cross he bore 
 
 As good Saint Andrew bears. 
 
 " ' Why go you forth, Lord James,' he said, 
 
 ' With spear and belted brand ? 
 Why do you take its dearest pledge 
 
 From this our Scottish land ? 
 
 ' ' ' The sultry breeze of Galilee 
 Creeps through its groves of palm, 
 
 The olives on the Holy Mount 
 Stand glittering in the calm. 
 
 ' ' ' 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 sea ! 
 
 " ' Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede ! 
 
 That heart shall pass once more 
 In fiery fight against the foe, 
 
 As it was wont of yore.
 
 52 C&e $eart of tbe TStucc. 
 
 " ' 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 ! ' 
 
 "Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray, 
 
 Sir Simon of the Lee 
 For truer friend had never man 
 
 Than thou hast been to me 
 
 " 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." 
 
 The tear was in Sir Simon's eye 
 As he wrung the warrior's hand 
 
 " Betide me weal, betide me woe, 
 I'll hold by thy command. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 And aye we sail'd, and aye we sail'd, 
 
 Across the weary sea, 
 Until one morn the coast of Spain 
 
 Rose grimly on our lee. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Why sounds yon Eastern music here 
 
 So wantonly and long, 
 And whose the crowd of armed men 
 
 That round yon standard throng?"
 
 Jt)eart of tfje "Bruce. 53 
 
 " The Moors have come from Africa 
 
 To spoil and waste and slay, 
 And King Alonzo of Castile 
 
 Must fight with them to-day." 
 
 " Now shame it were," cried good Lord James, 
 
 " Shall never be said of me, 
 That. I and mine have turn'd aside, 
 
 From the Cross in jeopardie ! 
 
 " 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 ! " . 
 
 " Now welcome to me, noble lord, 
 
 Thou and thy stalwart power ; 
 Dear is the sight of a Christian knight 
 
 Who comes in such an hour ! 
 
 " Is it for bond or faith ye come, 
 
 Or yet for golden fee ? 
 Or bring ye France's lilies here, 
 
 Or the flower of Burgundie ? " 
 
 " God greet thee well, thou valiant King, 
 
 Thee and thy belted peers 
 Sir James of Douglas am I called, 
 
 And these are Scottish spears. 
 
 ' ' 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. 
 
 " 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.
 
 54 3H)e $eart of dje TSruce. 
 
 " True pilgrims we, by land or sea, 
 Where danger bars the way ; 
 
 And therefore are we here, Lord King, 
 To ride with thee this day ! " 
 
 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 know thy name full well, Lord James, 
 
 And honour'd may I be, 
 That those who fought beside the Bruce 
 
 Should fight this day for me ! 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 The Douglas turned towards us then, 
 O but his glance was high ! 
 
 " There is not one of all my men 
 But is as bold as I. 
 
 " There is not one of all my knights 
 
 But bears as true a spear 
 Then onwards ! Scottish gentlemen, 
 
 And think King Robert's here ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 And many a bearded Saracen 
 
 Went down, both horse and man ; 
 
 For through their ranks we rode like corn, 
 So furiously we ran !
 
 Jt)eart of tlje TBruce. 55 
 
 But in behind our path they closed, 
 
 Though fain to let us through, 
 For they were forty thousand men, 
 
 And we were wondrous few. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Make in ! make in ! " Lord Douglas cried, 
 
 " Make in, my brethren dear ! 
 Sir William of Saint Clair is down ; 
 
 We may not leave him here ! 
 
 But thicker, thicker, grew the swarm, 
 
 And sharper shot the rain, 
 And the horses reared amid the press, 
 
 But they would not charge again. 
 
 " Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James, 
 " Thou kind and true Saint Clair ! 
 
 An' if I may not bring thee off, 
 I'll die beside thee there ! " 
 
 Then in his stirrups up he stood, 
 
 So lionlike and bold, 
 And held the precious heart aloft 
 
 All in its case of gold. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 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.
 
 56 &fje Ipcart of tfie T3rttce. 
 
 " Now praised be God, the day is won ! 
 
 They fly o'er flood and fell 
 Why dost thou draw the rein so hard, 
 
 Good knight, that fought so well?" 
 
 "Oh, ride ye on, Lord King ! " he said, 
 
 " And leave the dead to me, 
 For I must keep the dreariest watch 
 
 That ever I shall dree ! 
 
 " There lies, beside his master's heart, 
 The Douglas, stark and grim ; 
 
 And woe is me I should be here, 
 Not side by side with him ! 
 
 "The world grows cold, my arm is old, 
 
 And thin my lyart hair, 
 And all that I loved best on earth 
 
 Is stretch'd before me there. 
 
 " O Bothwell banks ! that bloom so bright, 
 
 Beneath the sun of May, 
 The heaviest cloud that ever blew 
 
 Is bound for you this day. 
 
 "And, Scotland, thou may'st veil thy head 
 
 In sorrow and in pain ; 
 The sorest stroke upon thy brow 
 
 Hath fallen this day in Spain ! 
 
 " We'll benr them back unto our ship, 
 
 We'll bear them o'er the sea, 
 And lay them in the hallowed earth, 
 
 Within our own countrie. 
 
 " 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 ! "
 
 Jpeatt of tfje Bruce. 57 
 
 The King he lighted from his horse, 
 
 He flung his brand away, 
 And took the Douglas by the hand, 
 
 So stately as he lay. 
 
 " God give thee rest, thou valiant soul, 
 That fought so well for Spain ; 
 
 I'd rather half my land were gone, 
 So thou wert here again ! " 
 
 We bore the good Lord James away, 
 And the priceless heart he bore, 
 
 And heavily we steered our ship 
 Towards the Scottish shore. 
 
 No welcome greeted our return, 
 
 Nor clang of martial tread, 
 But all were dumb and hushed as death 
 
 Before the mighty dead. 
 
 We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk, 
 
 The heart in fair Melrose ; 
 And woeful men were we that day 
 
 God grant their souls repose ! 
 
 C2
 
 THE BURIAL 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 misrepresentation and malignity ; 
 and the pen of romance has been freely employed 
 to portray as a bloody assassin one of the most 
 accomplished men and gallant soldiers of his age. 
 
 It was the misfortune of Claverhouse to have 
 lived in so troublous an age and country. The 
 religious differences of Scotland were then at their 
 greatest height, and there is hardly any act of 
 atrocity and rebellion which had not been com- 
 mitted by the insurgents. The royal authority was 
 openly and publicly disowned in the western dis- 
 tricts : the Archbishop of St. Andrews, after more 
 than one hairbreadth escape, was waylaid, and bar- 
 barously murdered by an armed gang of fanatics 
 on Magus Muir ; and his daughter was wounded 
 and maltreated while interceding for the old man's 
 life. The country was infested by banditti, who 
 took every possible opportunity of shooting down 
 and massacring any of the straggling soldiery ; the 
 clergy were attacked and driven from their houses ; 
 so that, throughout a considerable portion of Scot- 
 land, there was no security either for property or 
 for life. It is now the fashion to praise and mag- 
 nify 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 
 59
 
 60 3Efje Burial $9ardj of Dttnuce. 
 
 themselves, by reference to the annals of the time, 
 of the true character 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 be sullied and disgraced by 
 the deeds of its upholders, and that a wild and 
 frantic profession 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 cur- 
 tailed. Both points may be, and indeed are, 
 admitted, for it is impossible 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!" Were I to 
 transcribe from the pamphlets before me the list 
 of the murders which were perpetrated by the 
 country people on the soldiery, officers, and 
 gentlemen of loyal principles, during the reign 
 of Charles II., I believe that no candid person 
 would be surprised at the severe retaliation which 
 was made. It must be remembered that the 
 country was then under military law, and that 
 the strongest 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 disturbances. The 
 necessity of such orders wilt become apparent, 
 when we reflect that, besides the open actions 
 at Aird's Moss and Drumclog, the city of Glasgow 
 was attacked, and the royal forces compelled for 
 a time to /all back upon Stirling. 
 
 Under such circumstances it is no wonder if the 
 soldiery %vere severe in their reprisals. Innocent
 
 TSuttal 99ard) of Dunnee. 61 
 
 blood may no doubt have been shed, and in some 
 cases 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 license. 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 
 ignorant. 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 
 upon a huge black horse, the especial gift of 
 Beelzebub ! On this charger it is supposed that 
 he could ride up precipices 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'il's Jock," and that his whole 
 time was occupied, day and night, in hunting 
 Covenanters upon the hills ! Almost every rebel 
 who was taken in arms and shot, is supposed to 
 have met his death from the individual pistol of 
 Claverhouse ; and the tales which, from time to 
 time, have been written by such ingenious persons 
 as 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 taste, for pursuing single 
 insurgents. Such suggestions are an insult to 
 martyrology ; and many a parish of the west 
 would be indignant were it averred that the 
 tenant of its gray stone had suffered by a meaner 
 hand. 
 
 When we look at the portrait of Claverhouse, 
 and survey the calm, melancholy, and beautiful
 
 62 fllje TSurial Q9arc1) of DitnBec. 
 
 features of the devoted soldier, it appears almost 
 incredible that he should ever have suffered under 
 such an overwhelming load of misrepresentation. 
 But when discarding modern historians, who in 
 too many instances do not seem to entertain the 
 slightest scruple in dealing with the memory of the 
 dead we turn to the writings of his contemporaries 
 who knew the man, his character appears in 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 disgraced the Scottish states- 
 men of the time. No one dares question his loyalty, 
 for he sealed that confession with his blood ; and it 
 is universally admitted, that with him fell the last 
 hopes of the reinstatement of the house of Stuart. 
 
 I may perhaps be permitted here, in the absence 
 of a better chronicler, to mention a few particulars 
 of his life, which, I believe, are comparatively un- 
 known. John Graham of Claverhouse was a cadet 
 of the family of Fintrie, connected by intermarriage 
 with the blood-royal of Scotland. After completing 
 his studies at the University of St. Andrews, he 
 entered, as was the national custom for gentlemen 
 of good birth and limited means, into foreign ser- 
 vice, served some time in France as a volunteer, 
 and afterwards went to Holland. He very soon 
 received a commission, as a cornet in a regiment 
 of horse-guards, from the Prince of Orange, nephew 
 of Charles II. and James VII., and who afterwards 
 married the Princess Mary. His manner at that 
 time is thus described : " He was then ane esquire, 
 under the title of John Graham of Claverhouse ; 
 but the vivacity of his parts, and the delicacy and 
 justice of his understanding and judgment, joyned 
 with a certain vigour of mind and activity of body, 
 distinguished him in such a manner from all others 
 of his rank, that though he lived in a superior 
 character, yet he acquired the love and esteem of 
 all his equals, as well as of those who had the 
 advantage of him in dignity and estate."
 
 "Burial 9)9ard) of Duntiee. 63 
 
 By one of those singular accidents which we 
 occasionally meet with in history, Graham, after- 
 wards destined to become his most formidable 
 opponent, saved the life of the Prince of Orange 
 at the battle of St. Neff. The Prince's horse 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 his own steed. For this service he received a 
 captain's commission, and the promise of the first 
 regiment that should fall vacant. 
 
 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 previous assurance, 
 preferred his claim. It was disregarded, and Mr. 
 Collier, afterwards Earl of Portmore, was appointed 
 over his head. It would seem that Graham had 
 suspected some foul play on the part of this 
 gentleman, for, shortly after, they accidentally 
 met and had an angry altercation. This circum- 
 stance having come to the ears of the Prince, he 
 sent for Captain Graham, and administered a 
 sharp rebuke. I give the remainder of this inci- 
 dent in the words of the old writer, because it 
 must be considered a very remarkable one, as 
 illustrating the fiery spirit and dauntless independ- 
 ence 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 in making him break his word. 
 '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 Captain sub- 
 joined, that since his Highness had the goodness 
 to give him his liberty, he resolved to employ
 
 64 <lje "Burial ^arcT) of Dunnct. 
 
 himself elsewhere, for he would not longer serve 
 a Prince that had broken his word. 
 
 "The Captain, having thus thrown up his com- 
 mission, 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 ordered the gold to be distributed 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 military." 
 
 On his arrival in Britain he was well received by 
 the court, and immediately appointed to a high 
 military command in Scotland. It would be 
 beyond the scope of the present paper to enter 
 minutely into the details of his service during the 
 stormy period when Scotland was certainly mis- 
 governed, 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 mournful one indeed. Church and State 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., 
 Claverhouse was raised to the peerage, by the title 
 of Lord Viscount Dundee. He was major-general, 
 and second in command of the royal forces, when 
 the Prince of Orange landed, and earnestly entreated 
 King James to be allowed to march against him, 
 offering to stake his head on the successful result 
 of the enterprise. There is little doubt, from the 
 great popularity of Lord Dundee with the army, 
 that, had such consent been given, William would
 
 TSutial ^arcT) of JDunnee. 65 
 
 have found more than a match in his old officer ; 
 but the King seemed absolutely infatuated, and 
 refused to allow a drop of blood to be shed in his 
 quarrel, though the great bulk of the population of 
 England were clearly and enthusiastically in his 
 favour. One of the most gifted of our modern 
 poets, the Honourable George Sydney Smythe, has 
 beautifully illustrated this event. 
 
 " Then out spake gallant Claverhouse, and his soul 
 
 thrilled wild and high, 
 And he showed the King his subjects, and he prayed him 
 
 not to fly. 
 
 O never yet was captain so dauntless as Dundee 
 He has sworn to chase the Hollander buck to his Zuyder- 
 
 Zee!" 
 
 But though James quitted his kingdom, the stern 
 loyalty of Dundee was nothing moved. Alone 
 and without escort he traversed England, and pre- 
 sented himself at the Convention of Estates, then 
 assembled at Edinburgh for the purpose of re- 
 ceiving 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 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 because, in such a total disruption of order, 
 they judged it safest to abstain from taking any 
 prominent part. This gave an immense ascendency 
 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 the crown of Scotland to the 
 Prince, and having, moreover, received sure infor- 
 mation that some of the wild fanatic Whigs, with 
 Daniel Ker of Kersland at their head, had formed 
 a plot for his assassination, quitted Edinburgh with
 
 66 ^Tfje TBttrtal ^arcTj of Dttnnee. 
 
 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 Duddope, 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 commanded 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. Imi- 
 tating the example, and inheriting the enthusiasm 
 of his great predecessor Montrose, he invoked 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 Marquis 
 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 remem- 
 bered in Highland song. In the meantime the 
 Convention, terrified at their danger, and dreading 
 a Highland inroad, had despatched Mackay, a 
 military officer of great experience, with a con- 
 siderable body of troops, to quell the threatened 
 insurrection. He was encountered by Dundee, 
 and compelled to evacuate the high country and 
 fall back upon the Lowlands, where he subsequently 
 received reinforcements, and again marched north- 
 ward. 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 High-
 
 TBurial Sparcfi of DuttBee. 67 
 
 lands, or to meet the enemy at once, though with 
 a force far inferior to his. 
 
 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 dis- 
 ciplined 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 Highlanders, as a retreat when the enemy was 
 in view. The account of the discussion is so in- 
 teresting, and so characteristic of Dundee, that 1 
 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 Locheill 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 experi- 
 ence, and an intimate acquaintance with the persons 
 and subject he spoke of. Not one in the com^ 
 pany offering to contradict their general, it was 
 unanimously agreed to fight. 
 
 "When the news of this vigorous resolution 
 spread through the army, nothing was heard but 
 acclamations of joy, which exceedingly pleased 
 their gallant general ; but before the council broke 
 up, Locheill begged to be heard for a few words. 
 ' My Lord, 1 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 
 Lordship 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
 
 68 3E!je TSurtal SJ9arcl) of DtntDcc. 
 
 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 Lordship deny us this reason- 
 able 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. 'Gentlemen,' said he, 'as lam absolutely 
 convinced, and have had repeated proofs, of your 
 zeal for the king's service, and of your affection 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 shear-darg (that is, one harvest-day's work) to 
 the king, my master, that I may have an oppor- 
 tunity of convincing the brave clans, that I can 
 hazard my life in that service as freely as the 
 meanest of them. Ye know their temper, gentle- 
 men ; and if they do not think I have personal 
 courage enough, they will not esteem me hereafter, 
 nor obey my commands 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 commanding you.' 
 
 "The council, finding him inflexible, broke up, 
 and the army marched directly towards the Pass 
 of Killiecrankie. " 
 
 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 succession 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
 
 "Burial 9J9ard) of Dunnee. 69 
 
 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 enter- 
 prising 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 
 occupied 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 line without any reserve. He was 
 therefore compelled, in making his dispositions, to 
 leave considerable gaps in his own line, which gave 
 Mackay a further advantage. The right of Dun- 
 dee's army was formed of the M'Lean, Glengarry, 
 and Clanranald regiments, along with some Irish 
 levies. In the centre was Dundee himself, at the 
 head of a small and ill-equipped body of cavalry, 
 composed of Lowland gentlemen and their fol- 
 lowers, and about forty of his old troopers. The 
 Camerons and Skyemen, under the command of 
 Locheill 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 
 impetuosity 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,
 
 70 STic TSurial Sgarct) of Dundee. 
 
 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, in- 
 stead of following their general, who had charged 
 directly for the guns, executed a manosuvre which 
 threw them into disorder ; and, when last seen in 
 the battle, Dundee, accompanied 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 re- 
 ceived his death-wound. On returning from the 
 pursuit, the Highlanders found him dying on the 
 field. 
 
 It would be difficult to point out another in- 
 stance in which the maintenance of a great cause 
 depended solely upon 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 organised 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 
 parliament 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 government, 
 or to stay a few days until they saw what use my
 
 JEfie Burial C^arc^ of DunDee. 71 
 
 Lord Dundee would make of his victory. They 
 knew the rapidity of his motions, and were con- 
 vinced that he would allow them no time to de- 
 liberate. On this account it was debated, whether 
 such of the nobility and gentry as were confined 
 for adhering to their old master, should be immedi- 
 ately 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, from a fatal necessity of the times, which 
 obliged them 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 Drum- 
 mond, "the Highland army had more the air of 
 the shattered remains of broken 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 solemnity, 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 
 loyalist, by transcribing the beautiful epitaph com- 
 posed by Dr. Pitcairn : 
 
 "Ultime Scotorum! potuit, quo sospite solo, 
 
 Libertas patriae salva fuisse tuae : 
 Te moriente, novos accepit Scotia cives, 
 
 Accepitque novos, te moriente, deos. 
 Ilia nequit superesse tibi, tu non potes illi, 
 
 Ergo Caledonia nomen inane, vale. 
 Tuque vale, gentis priscae fortissime ductor, 
 
 Ultime Scotorum, ac ultimo Grame, vale ! "
 
 THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE. 
 
 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 valleys 
 
 As the clansmen march along ! 
 Never from the field of combat, 
 
 Never from the deadly fray, 
 Was a nobler trophy carried 
 
 Than we bring svith 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 ! 
 Lo ! we bring with us the hero 
 
 Lo ! we bring the conquering Graeme, 
 Crowned as best beseems a victor 
 
 From the altar of his fame ; 
 Fresh and bleeding from the battle 
 
 Whence his spirit took its flight, 
 Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, 
 
 And the thunder of the fight ! 
 Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, 
 
 As we march o'er moor and lea ! 
 Is there any here will venture 
 
 To bewail our dead Dundee ? 
 Let the widows of the traitors 
 
 Weep until their eyes are dim ! 
 Wail ye may full well for Scotland 
 
 Let none dare to mourn for him !
 
 TSurial S0arcfj of 3)unnee. 
 
 See ! above his glorious body 
 
 Lies the royal banner's fold 
 See ! 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-field ! 
 See Oh never more, my comrades ! 
 
 Shall 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 ! 
 
 On the heights of Killiecrankie 
 
 Yester-morn our army lay : 
 Slowly rose the mist in columns 
 
 From the river's broken way ; 
 Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, 
 
 And the pass was wrapped in gloom, 
 When the clansmen rose together 
 
 From their lair amidst the broom. 
 Then we belted on our tartans, 
 
 And our bonnets down we drew, 
 And we felt our broadswords' edges, 
 
 And we proved them to be true ; 
 And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, 
 
 And we cried the gathering-cry, 
 And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, 
 
 And we swore to do or die ! 
 Then our leader rode before us 
 
 On his war-horse black as night 
 Well the Cameronian rebels 
 
 Knew that charger in the fight ! 
 And a cry of exultation 
 
 From the bearded warriors rose ; 
 For we loved the house of Claver'se, 
 
 And we thought of good Montrose. 
 
 D
 
 74 '<ET)e "Burial $39atd) of Dunoee. 
 
 But he raised his hand for silence 
 
 " Soldiers ! I have sworn a vow : 
 Ere the evening-star shall glisten 
 
 On Schehallion's lofty brow, 
 Either we shall rest in triumph, 
 
 Or another of the Graemes 
 Shall have died in battle-harness 
 
 For his Country and King James ! 
 Think upon the Royal Martyr 
 
 Think of what his race endure 
 Think on him whom butchers murder'd 
 
 On the field of Magus Muir : 
 By his sacred blood I charge ye, 
 
 By the ruin'd hearth and shrine 
 By the blighted hopes of Scotland, 
 
 By your injuries and mine 
 Strike this day as if the anvil . 
 
 Lay beneath your blows the while, 
 Be they Covenanting traitors, 
 
 Or the brood of false Argyle ! 
 Strike ! and drive the trembling rebels 
 
 Backwards o'er the stormy Forth ; 
 Let them tell their pale Convention 
 
 How they fared within the North. 
 Let them tell that Highland honour 
 
 Is not to be bought nor sold, 
 That we scorn 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 ! " 
 
 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
 
 T3tmal SjBarcf) of 3D tinner. 75 
 
 Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, 
 
 And they harder drew their breath ; 
 For their souls were strong within them, 
 
 Stronger than the grasp of death. 
 Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 
 
 Sounding in the pass below, 
 And the distant tramp of horses. 
 
 And the voices of the foe : 
 Down we crouched amid the bracken , 
 
 Till the Lowland ranks drew near, 
 Panting like the hounds in summer, 
 
 When they scent the stately deer. 
 From the 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 field beneath ; 
 Then we bounded from our covert. 
 
 Judge how looked the Saxons then, 
 When they saw the rugged mountain 
 
 Start to life with armed men ! 
 Like a tempest down the ridges 
 
 Swept the hurricane of steel, 
 Rose the slogan of Macdonald 
 
 Flashed the broadsword of Locheill ! 
 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. 
 Horse and man went down before us 
 
 Living foe there tarried none 
 On the field of Killicrankie, 
 
 When that stubborn fight was done !
 
 'Burial Sgjardj of Dunnee. 
 
 And the evening-star was shining 
 
 On Schehallion's distant head, 
 When we wiped our bloody broadswords, 
 
 And returned to count the dead. 
 There we found him, gashed and gory, 
 
 Stretch'd 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 Graeme ! 
 
 Open wide the vaults of Athol, 
 
 Where the bones of heroes rest 
 Open wide the hallowed portals 
 
 To receive another guest ! 
 Last of Scots, and last of freemen 
 
 Last of ail that dauntless race 
 Who would rather die unsullied 
 
 Than outlive the land's disgrace ! 
 O thoti lion-hearted warrior ! 
 
 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 ! and till the latest trumpet 
 
 Wakes the dead from earth and sea, 
 Scotland shall not boast a braver 
 
 Chieftain than our own Dundee !
 
 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 infrac- 
 tion 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 
 Scottish 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 talents 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 char- 
 acter 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 disastrous 
 issue of the Battle of the Boyne led to a negotiation 
 which terminated in the entire disbanding of the 
 royal forces. By this treaty, which was expressly 
 sanctioned by William of Orange, a full and un- 
 reserved 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 ist of 
 January 1692, in presence of the Lords of the 
 Scottish. Council, "or of the Sheriffs or their 
 
 77
 
 78 13Ef)e OTttiofa) of letuoe. 
 
 deputies of the respective 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 
 following significant passage: "That ye com- 
 municate our pleasure to the Governor of Inver- 
 lochy, 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 
 intended, 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 com- 
 municate with King James, then residing at St. 
 Germains, for the purpose of obtaining his per- 
 mission and warrant previous to submitting them- 
 selves to the existing government. That article 
 had been sanctioned by William before the pro- 
 clamation was issued, and a special messenger 
 was despatched to France for that purpose. 
 
 In the meantime, troops were gradually and 
 cautiously advanced to the confines of the High- 
 lands, and, in some instances, actually quartered 
 on the inhabitants. The condition of the country 
 was perfectly tranquil. No disturbances whatever 
 occurred in the north or west of Scotland ; Locheill 
 and the other chiefs were awaiting the communica- 
 tion from St. Germains, 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 preparation made for an immediate landing
 
 CHie CHtnoto of tencoe. 79 
 
 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 ap- 
 parent. 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 proclamation was issued 
 upon the agth of August : consequently, only four 
 months were allowed for the complete submission 
 of the Highlands. 
 
 Not one of the chiefs subscribed until the man- 
 date from King James arrived. That document, 
 which is dated from St. Germains on the I2th 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 fatigued that he could 
 proceed 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 
 hours before the time was out, and appeared before 
 the sheriff at Inverara, where he took the oaths 
 upon the very day on which the indemnity expired. 
 
 That a general massacre throughout the High- 
 lands was contemplated by the Whig government, 
 is a fact established 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 attendance upon 
 the court, which too clearly indicate the intentions 
 of William. In one of these, dated ist December 
 1694 a month, be it observed, before the amnesty 
 expired and addressed to Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Hamilton, there are the following words: "The
 
 80 SHje G3tH0u) of 5lencoe. 
 
 winter is the only season 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 in- 
 formed 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 prisoners." 
 
 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 the kingdom ready 
 to invade the Highlands, as he wrote to General 
 Buchan, foreseeing the unhappy consequences, 
 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 was impossible they could 
 reach the distant parts in such time as to allow 
 the several persons concerned the benefit of the 
 indemnity within the space limited ; besides, that 
 some persons having put the Highlanders 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 1692, 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, 
 countersigned by Dalrymple, in which upon the
 
 CHitoto of Icncoc. Si 
 
 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 off these obstinate rebels by all manner of hos- 
 tility ; and we do require you to give him your 
 assistance and concurrence 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 con- 
 cealed 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, dis- 
 charging upon the highest penalties the law allows, 
 any reset, correspondence, or intercom muning with 
 these rebels." This monstrous mandate, which 
 was in fact the death-warrant of many thousand 
 innocent people, no distinction being made of age 
 or sex, would, in all human probability, have been 
 put into execution, but for the remonstrance of one 
 high-minded nobleman. Lord Carmarthen, after- 
 wards Duke of Leeds, accidentally became aware 
 of the proposed massacre, and personally remon- 
 strated with the monarch against a measure which 
 he denounced as at once cruel and impolitic. 
 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 compunction 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 Glencoe were named, but the personal ran- 
 cour of Secretary Dalrymple decided the doom of 
 the latter. The secretary wrote thus: " Argyle 
 tells me that Glencoe hath not taken the oath, 
 
 D 2
 
 82 3Efje JBtDob) of Iencoe. 
 
 at which I rejoice. It is a great work of charity to 
 be exact in rooting out that damnable set." The 
 final instructions regarding Glencoe, which were 
 issued on i6th January 1692, are as follows : 
 
 "WILLIAM R. As for M'lan of Glencoe and that 
 tribe, if they can be well distinguished from the rest of 
 the Highlanders, it will be proper for public justice to 
 extirpate that set of thieves. W. R." 
 
 This letter is remarkable as being signed and 
 countersigned by William alone, contrary to the 
 usual practice. The Secretary was no doubt 
 desirous to screen himself from after responsi- 
 bility, and was further aware that the royal signa- 
 ture would ensure 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 Macdonalds 
 having espoused a daughter of Robert II. He 
 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 re- 
 ceived 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 sheriff resided, 
 before the expiry of the stated period ; and M'lan 
 accordingly adopted the only practicable mode 
 of signifying his submission, by making his way 
 with great difficulty to Fort-William, then called
 
 GUtDoto of lencoe. 83 
 
 Inverlochy, and tendering his signature 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 appear- 
 ance and tender, and on New Year's Day, 1692, 
 M'lan reached Inverara, where he produced that 
 paper as evidence of his intentions, and prevailed 
 upon the sheriff, Sir James Campbell of Ardking- 
 lass, to administer the oaths required. After that 
 ceremony, which was immediately intimated to 
 the Privy Council, had been performed, the un- 
 fortunate gentleman returned home, in the full 
 conviction that he had thereby made 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 in Glencoe. These men, 
 though Campbells, and hereditarily obnoxious to 
 the Macdonalds, Camerons, and other of the 
 loyal clans, were yet countrymen, and were kindly 
 and hospitably received. Their captain, 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 chief. And 
 yet this was the very troop selected for the horrid 
 service. 
 
 Special instructions were sent to the major of the 
 regiment, one Duncanson, then quartered at Balla- 
 chulish a morose, brutal, and savage man who 
 accordingly wrote to Campbell of Glenlyon in the 
 following terms : 
 
 " BALLACHOLIS, 12 February 1692. 
 
 " SIR, You are hereby ordered to fall upon the rebels, 
 the M 'Donalds of Glencoe, and putt all to the sword 
 under seventy. You are to have special care that the old 
 fox and his sons doe upon no account escape your hands. 
 You are to secure all the avenues, that no man escape. 
 This you are to put in execution att five o'clock in the 
 morning precisely, and by that time, or very shortly after 
 it, I'll strive to be att you with a stronger party. If I 
 doe not come to you at five, you are not to tarry for me, 
 but to fall on. This is by the king's special! command,
 
 84 $Ef)e CSttiobJ of lencoe. 
 
 for the good and safety of the country, that these mis- 
 creants be cutt off root and branch. See that this be putt 
 in execution without feud or favour, else you may expect 
 to be treated as not true to the king's government, nor a 
 man fitt to carry a commission in the king's service. 
 Expecting you will not fail! in the fulfilling hereof as you 
 love yourself, I subscribe these with my hand. 
 
 " ROBERT DUNCANSON. 
 
 " For their Majesty's service. 
 " To Captain Robert CainpbeilofGlenlyon." 
 
 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 was 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 frighted 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 Campbell's knees, and wrapt 
 itself within his cloak ; by which, chancing to move 
 compassion, the captain inclined to have saved it, 
 but one Drummond, an officer, arriving about the 
 break of day with more troops, commanded it to 
 be shot by a file of musqueteers. Nothing could 
 be more shocking and horrible than the prospect 
 of these houses bestrewed with mangled bodies of 
 the dead, 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 be- 
 haviour of the soldiers, they stole from their beds 
 a few minutes before the tragedy began, and, 
 chancing to overhear two of them discoursing 
 plainly of the matter, they endeavoured to have 
 advertised their father, but, finding that imprac-
 
 GUinoto of lettcoe. 85 
 
 ticable, they ran to the other end of the country 
 and alarmed the inhabitants. There was another 
 accident that contributed much to their safety ; 
 for the night was so excessively stormy and tem- 
 pestuous, that four hundred soldiers, who were 
 appointed to murder these 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 dark- 
 ness 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 ab- 
 solutely ruined, is sufficient to account for the 
 little estimation in which the name of the " great 
 Whig deliverer " is still regarded in the valleys of 
 the North. 
 
 Memoirs of SIR EWEN CAMERON OF LOCH BILL.
 
 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 ! 
 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, 
 That, 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, 
 
 Let his wounds unclosed remain, 
 Till the day when he shall show them 
 
 At the throne of God on high, 
 When the murderer and the murdered 
 
 Meet before their Judge's eye ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Weep not thou, his orphan heir 
 86
 
 SEJtDoto of lencoe. 8'/ 
 
 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 comeih 
 
 For the race that slew thy sire ! 
 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 ; 
 When the herd of frantic women 
 
 Stumbled through the midnight snow, 
 With their fathers' houses blazing, 
 
 And their dearest dead below ! 
 Oh, the horror of the tempest, 
 
 As the flashing drift was blown, 
 Crimsoned with the conflagration, 
 
 And the roofs went thundering down ! 
 Oh, the prayers the 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 foemen'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
 
 88 die GQtDoto of Itncoe. 
 
 Plunging through its naked den. 
 Slowly from the mountain-summit 
 
 Was the drifting veil withdrawn. 
 And the ghastly vailey glimmered 
 
 In the gray December dawn. 
 Better bad 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. 
 For in 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 I 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 bis brow 
 Till I found him lying murdered, 
 
 Where he wooed me long ago ! 
 Woman's weakness shall not shame me 
 
 Why should I have tears to shed ? 
 Could I rain them down like water, 
 
 O my hero ! on thy head 
 Could the cry of lamentation 
 
 Wake thee from thy silent sleep.
 
 GJiBoto of <8lencot. 89 
 
 Could it set thy heart a throbbing. 
 
 It were mine to wail and weep ! 
 But I will not waste ray 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 English foemen 
 
 Camped upon a Scottish field 
 I had mourned thee, hadst 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 ! 
 
 With my unavailing cries, 
 Whilst 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 for a place beside thee, 
 
 Dearer than my bridal-bed : 
 And 111 give thee tears, my husband ! 
 
 If the tears remain to me. 
 When the widows of the foemen 
 
 Cry the coronach for thee !
 
 THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 
 
 IN consequence of a capitulation with Government, 
 the regular troops who had served under Lord 
 Dundee were transhipped to France ; and, imme- 
 diately 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 through- 
 out the different garrisons in the north of France, 
 and, though nominally in the service of King 
 James, derived their whole means of subsistence 
 from the bounty of the French monarch. So long 
 as it appeared probable that another descent was 
 meditated, those 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- 
 time desperate, and the Scottish officers, with no 
 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 antiquary, states that" The Scottish 
 officers considering that, by the loss of the French 
 fleet, King James's restoration would be retarded 
 
 * An Account of Dundee's Officers, after they went 
 to France. By an Officer of the Army. London, 1714.
 
 92 $T!)e 3(0IatttJ of tfa 'Scots. 
 
 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 choose 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 nothing, and he got no reputation 
 by the command : 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 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 Saint Germains, and the tears 
 are said to have gushed from his eyes at the sight 
 of so many brave men, reduced, through their 
 disinterested and persevering loyalty, to so very 
 humble a condition. " Gentlemen," said he, " my 
 own misfortunes 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 officers in my 
 army, reduced to the stations of private sentinels. 
 Nothing but your loyalty, and that of a few of
 
 3lsrtanB of tie fecotss. 93 
 
 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 impossible I can be 
 forgetful of your services and sufferings. Neither 
 can there be any posts in the armies of my dominions 
 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 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 Rousillon, 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 
 acknowledgment of the French commanders. 
 " Z> gentilhomme" said one of the generals, in 
 acknowledgment of their readiness at a peculiarly 
 critical moment, " est toujours gentilhomme, et se 
 montre toujours tel dans besoin et dans le danger " 
 a eulogy as applicable to them as it was in later
 
 94 t&'bt SIsrtsnn of rtje Scots. 
 
 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 2/th of May, the company of 
 officers, and other Scottish companies, 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 grenadiers, 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 company on the side of the 
 trench, which exposed him to the fire of a bastion, 
 where there were two culverins and several other 
 guns planted ; likewise to the fire of two curtins 
 lined with small shot. Colonel Brown, following 
 with the battalion, was obliged, in honour, to 
 march the same way Major Rutherford had done ; 
 the danger whereof the Mareschal immediately 
 perceiving, ordered one of his aides-de-camp to 
 command Rutherford to march under cover of 
 the trench, which he did ; and if he had but de- 
 layed six minutes, the grenadiers and battalion 
 had 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 incessantly 
 on the besieged, that they thought (the trench 
 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 agree to 
 them. Then firing began on both sides to be 
 very hot; and they in the town, seeing how the
 
 SHje 31sfann of tfje %cot$s. 95 
 
 grenadiers lay, killed eight of them. When the 
 Governor surrendered the town, he inquired of 
 the Mareschal what countrymen these grenadiers 
 were ; and assured him it was on their account 
 he delivered up the town, because they fired so 
 hotly, that he believed they were resolved to 
 attack the breach. He answered, smiling, 'Ces 
 sont mes enfans They are my children.' Again ; 
 ' they are the King of Great Britain's Scottish 
 officers, who, to show their willingness 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 officers' piquet, and they all 
 surrounded him. Then, with his hat in his hand, 
 he thanked them for their good services in the 
 trenches, and freely acknowledged it was their 
 conduct and courage which compelled the Gover- 
 nor 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 had shown King James the letter, he 
 thanked him for the services his subjects had done 
 in taking Rosas in Catalonia ; who, with concern, 
 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 
 gradually compelled to part with every remnant of 
 the property which they had secured from the ruins 
 of their fortunes ; so that when they arrived, after 
 various adventures, at Scelestat, in Alsace, they 
 were literally without the common means of sub- 
 sistence. Famine and the sword had, by this time, 
 thinned their ranks, but had not diminished their 
 spirit, as the following narrative of their last exploit 
 will show : 
 
 "In December 1697, General Stirk, who com-
 
 96 Wbe 3lsrtsmi of the %cot&. 
 
 manded for the Germans, appeared with 16,000 
 men on the other side of the Rhine, 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 Rhine, 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 prejudice to them. For the enemy's 
 guns, placed on that island, would extremely gall 
 their camp, which they could not hinder for the 
 deepness of the water and their wanting of boats 
 for which the Marquis quickly sent ; but arriving 
 too late, the Germans had carried a bridge over 
 into the island, where they had posted above five 
 hundred men, who, by order of their engineers, 
 entrenched themselves : which the company of 
 officers perceiving, who always grasped after 
 honour, and scorned all thoughts of danger, re- 
 solved to wade the river, and attack the Germans 
 in the island ; and for that effect, desired Captain 
 John Foster, who then commanded them, to beg of 
 the Marquis that they might have liberty to attack 
 the Germans in the island ; who told Captain 
 Foster, when the boats came up, they should be 
 the first that attacked. Foster courteously 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 pleased." Whereupon the officers, with the 
 other two Scottish companies, made themselves 
 ready ; and having secured their arms round their 
 necks, waded into the river hand-in-hand, "accord- 
 ing to the Highland fashion," with the water as high 
 as their breasts ; and having crossed the heavy 
 stream, fell upon the Germans in their entrench- 
 ment. These were presently thrown into confusion, 
 and retreated, breaking down their own bridges, 
 whilst many of them were drowned. This move- 
 ment, having been made in the dusk of the even- 
 ing, partook of the character of a surprise ; but it
 
 Cfje 3I*tfann of tTje %cots. 97 
 
 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 Sell heard the firing, and 
 understood that the Germans were beat out of the 
 island, he made the sign 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 thanked his Excellency, and desired 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 imme- 
 diately sent to them. The next morning, the Mar- 
 quis came into the island, and kindly embraced every 
 officer, and thanked them for the good service they 
 had done his master, 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 attempts 
 on the part of the Germans to surprise and dis- 
 lodge 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 
 con flagration. ' ' 
 
 Two years afterwards, a treaty of peace was 
 concluded ; and this gallant company of soldiers, 
 worthy of a better fate, was broken up and dis- 
 persed. At the time when the narrative, from 
 
 E
 
 31islant of ttie 
 
 which I have quoted so freely, was compiled, not 
 more than sixteen of Dundee's veterans were alive. 
 The author concludes thus, " And thus was dis- 
 solved one of the best companies that ever marched 
 under command ! Gentlemen, who, in the midst 
 of all their pressures and obscurity, never forgot 
 they were gentlemen ; and whom the sweets of a 
 brave, a just, and honourable conscience, rendered 
 perhaps more happy under those sufferings, than 
 the most prosperous and triumphant in iniquity, 
 since our minds stamp our happiness." 
 
 Some years ago, while visiting the ancient 
 Scottish convent at Ratisbon, my attention was 
 drawn to the monumental inscriptions on the walls 
 of the dormitory, many of which bear reference to 
 gentlemen of family and distinction, whose political 
 principles had involved them in the troubles of 
 1688, 1715, and 1745. Whether the cloister which 
 now holds their dust had afforded them a shelter 
 in the later 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 bury me by the bracken bush, 
 
 Beneath the blooming brier : 
 Let never living mortal ken 
 
 That a kindly Scot lies here ! "
 
 THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 
 
 THE Rhine is 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 ! 
 Now, is there any of the host 
 
 Will dare to venture in ? " 
 
 " 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 ! amidst the willow boughs 
 
 The serried bayonets gleam ; 
 They've flung their bridge they've won the isle 
 
 The foe have crossed the stream ! 
 Their volley flashes sharp and strong 
 
 By all the Saints, I trow, 
 There never yet was soldier born 
 
 Could 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. 
 
 99
 
 ioo Cbc Sljslann of rije %cotst. 
 
 Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross 
 
 The wild and swollen Rhine, 
 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." 
 
 The old lord in his saddle turned, 
 
 And hastily he said 
 " Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart 
 
 Awakened from the dead ? 
 Thou art the leader of the Scots 
 
 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 that 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 venturous way ; 
 And armies twain are on the plain, 
 
 The daring deed to see 
 Now ask thy gallant company 
 
 If they will follow thee ! " 
 
 Right gladsome looked the Captain then, 
 And nothing did he say,
 
 3lJrtann of tfjt %cotjs. 101 
 
 But he turned him to his little band 
 
 Oh few, I ween, were they ! 
 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 ; 
 And they had trod the Pass once more, 
 
 And stooped on either side 
 To pluck the heather from the spot 
 
 Where he 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 ! 
 
 " 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 sisters have we to lament, 
 
 No wives to wail our fall ;
 
 102 SClje Salami of tfje %cot(. 
 
 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 ! let me name a spell 
 
 Shall rouse your souls again, 
 And send 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 ! 
 Again I see the tartans wave, 
 
 Again the trumpets ring ; 
 Again I hear our leader's call 
 
 ' Upon them, for the King ! ' 
 Stayed we behind that glorious day 
 
 For roaring flood or linn ? 
 The soul of Greeme is with us still 
 
 Now, brothers ! will ye in ? 
 
 No stay no pause. With one accord 
 
 They grasped each other's hand, 
 And 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 swear, 
 
 Since earth and sea began 
 Was never such a daring deed 
 
 Essayed by mortal man ! "
 
 3I0IanH of tTje ^cots. 103 
 
 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 ! They stagger in the midst, 
 
 They waver in their line ! 
 Fire on the madmen ! break their ranks, 
 
 And whelm them in the Rhine ! " 
 
 Have you seen the tall trees swaying 
 
 When the blast is piping shrill, 
 And the whirlwind reels in fury 
 
 Down the gorges of the hill ? 
 How they toss their mighty branches, 
 
 Striving with the tempest's shock ; 
 How they keep their place of vantage, 
 
 Cleaving firmly to the rock? 
 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 deadly, 
 
 Not a man relaxed his hold : 
 For their hearts were big and thrilling 
 
 With the mighty thoughts of old.
 
 104 *>* 3lstfattti of tfje 
 
 One word was spoke among them, 
 
 And through the ranks it spread 
 " Remember our dead Claverhouse !" 
 
 Was all the Captain said. 
 Then, sternly bending forward, 
 
 They struggled 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 armed 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 incline, 
 That rises o'er the parent-springs 
 
 Of rough and rapid Rhine 
 Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven 
 
 Than came the Scottish band, 
 Right up against the guarded trench. 
 
 And o'er it, sword in hand. 
 In vain their leaders forward press 
 
 They meet the deadly brand ! 
 O 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 ;
 
 C&e 3IsIanu of tlje %cotjs. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 And did they twine the laurel-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 twine the laurel-wreath 
 
 Why crown the cup with wine? 
 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 honied words 
 
 The exiles' hearts 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 !
 
 io6 tEfje 3I0Ianl> of tfie 
 
 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 : 
 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 Scot.
 
 CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 
 
 THOUGH the sceptre had departed from the House 
 of Stuart, it was reserved for one of its last de- 
 scendants 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 dynastical struggle which, for 
 more than half a century, had agitated the whole 
 of Britain, established the rule of law and of social 
 order throughout the mountainous districts of 
 Scotland, and blended Celt and Saxon into one 
 prosperous and united people. It was better that 
 the antiquated system of clanship should have 
 expired in a blaze of glory, than gradually dwindled 
 into contempt ; better that the patriarchal rule 
 should at once have been extinguished by the 
 dire catastrophe of Culloden, than that it should 
 have lingered on, the shadow of an old tradition. 
 There is nothing now to prevent us from dwelling 
 with pride and admiration on the matchless devo- 
 tion displayed by the Highlanders, in 1745, in 
 behalf of the heir of him whom they acknowledged 
 as their lawful king. No feeling can arise to 
 repress the interest and the sympathy which is 
 107
 
 io8 Cfiarkss tffttoarn at 
 
 excited by the perusal of the tale narrating the 
 sufferings of the princely wanderer. That un- 
 bought 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 line, 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 magistrate 
 of the land. 
 
 The campaign of 1745 yields in romantic interest 
 to none which is written in history. A young and 
 inexperienced 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 munimented 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 
 terminate in the utter ruin of their fortunes. This 
 was not a cause in which the whole of Scotland 
 was concerned. Although it was well known that 
 many leading families in the Lowlands entertained 
 Jacobite opinions, and although a large proportion 
 of the common people had not yet become recon- 
 ciled 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 them- 
 selves on the side of the exiled family. Besides 
 this, even amongst the Highlanders there was 
 not unanimity of opinion. The three northern
 
 Cfjarfas (Entoarn at rergatttcs!. 109 
 
 clans of Sutherland, Mackay, and Monro, were 
 known to be staunch supporters of the Govern- 
 ment. It was doubtful what part might be taken 
 in the struggle by those of Mackenzie and Ross. 
 The chiefs of Skye, who could have brought 
 a large force of armed men into the field, had 
 declined participating in the attempt. The assist- 
 ance of 'Lord Lovat, upon whom the co-operation 
 of the Frasers might depend, could not be cal- 
 culated on with certainty ; and nothing but hos- 
 tility 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 under- 
 taking an adventure so seemingly hopeless. Mr. 
 Robert Chambers, in his admirable history of that 
 period, does not in the least exaggerate the im- 
 portance of the interview, on the result of which 
 the prosecution of the war depended. ' ' On ar- 
 riving at Borrodale, Locheill had a private inter- 
 view with the Prince, in which the probabilities 
 of the enterprise were anxiously debated. Charles 
 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. 
 He 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 should begin
 
 i io Charles Cutoart) at 
 
 the war. Locheill still resisted, entreating Charles 
 to be more temperate, and consent to remain con- 
 cealed where he was, till his friends should meet 
 together and concert what was best to be done. 
 Charles, 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 ! 
 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 given me any power.' Such was 
 the juncture upon which depended the civil war 
 of 1745 ; for it is a point agreed, says Mr. Home, 
 who narrates this conversation, that if Locheill 
 had persisted in his refusal to take arms, no 
 other chief would have joined the standard, and 
 the spark of rebellion 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 mere 
 handful of followers, Charles Edward commenced 
 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 de- 
 scended upon the Lowlands, having baffled the 
 attempts of General Cope to intercept his march 
 occupied the city of Perth and the town of Dundee, 
 and 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
 
 Cntoara at Fergattteg. in 
 
 court in the halls of Holyrood. 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 ad- 
 herents. Possibly certain feelings of nationality, 
 which no deliberate views of civil or religious policy 
 could altogether 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 ancestral 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 of pity for the 
 probable fate of one so young and chivalrous was 
 often present to their minds, for they had thorough 
 confidence in 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 encountered by a raw levy of undisci- 
 plined Highlanders, ill-armed and worse equipped, 
 and without the support of any artillery. 
 
 The issue of the battle of Prestonpans struck 
 Edinburgh 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, in four minutes for the 
 battle is said not to have lasted longer the High- 
 landers having only made one terrific and impetu- 
 ous 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 termi- 
 nates 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
 
 ii2 Charles! <2EHtoatn at 
 
 or to be cut to pieces. Many, in vainly attempting 
 to climb over the walls, fell an easy prey to the 
 ruthless claymore. Nearly 400, it is said, were 
 thus slain, 700 taken, while only about 170 in all 
 succeeded in effecting their escape. 
 
 " The dragoons, with worse conduct, were much 
 more fortunate. In falling back, they had the 
 good luck to find outlets from their respective 
 positions by the roads which ran along the various 
 extremities of the park 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 Lascelles, escaped 
 to Cockenzie and along Seton Sands, in a direction 
 contrary 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, notwithstanding all his 
 efforts to the contrary. On getting beyond the 
 village, where he was joined by the retreating 
 bands of the other regiment, he made one anxious 
 effort, with the Earls of Loudoun and Home, to 
 form and bring them back to charge the enemy, 
 now disordered by the pursuit ; but in vain. 
 They fled on, ducking their heads along their 
 horses' necks to escape 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. Clement'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 forenoon, and 
 there halted to breakfast, and to write a brief note 
 to one of the state-officers, relating the fate of the
 
 Cfjarfeg QEBtoarn at Fergaittes. 113 
 
 day. He then resumed his flight, and reached 
 Coldstream that night. Next morning he pro- 
 ceeded to Berwick, whose fortifications seemed 
 competent to give the security he required. He 
 everywhere brought the first tidings of his own 
 defeat. " 
 
 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 Edin- 
 burgh daily increased, as the qualities of his 
 person and mind became known ; and such testi- 
 mony as the following, with respect to his estima- 
 tion by the fair sex, and the devotion they exhibited 
 in his cause, is not overcharged. "His affability 
 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 sur- 
 vived 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 con- 
 spicuous articles of female attire in private as- 
 semblies. The ladies also showed considerable 
 zeal in contributing plate and other articles for 
 the use of the Chevalier at the palace, and in 
 raising pecuniary subsidies for him. Many a 
 posset-dish and snuff-box, many a treasured neck- 
 lace and repeater, many a jewel which had adorned 
 its successive generations of family beauties, was
 
 H4 Cljarlf* CutoarB at 
 
 at this time sold or laid in pledge, to raise a little 
 money for the service of Prince Charlie." 
 
 As to the motives and intended policy of this 
 remarkable and unfortunate young man, it may be 
 interesting to quote the terms of the proclamation 
 which he issued on the loth 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 suc- 
 ceeded 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 im- 
 posed upon you by the formidable powers of France 
 and Spain? Is not my royal father represented 
 as a bloodthirsty tyrant, breathing out nothing 
 but destruction to all who will not immediately em- 
 brace 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 happiness of a people. I have, I 
 confess, the greatest reason to adore the goodness 
 of Almighty God, who has in so remarkable a 
 manner protected me and my small army through 
 the many dangers to which we were at first exposed, 
 and who has led me in the way to victory, and to 
 the capital of this ancient kingdom, amidst the ac- 
 clamations of the King my father's subjects. Why, 
 then, is so much pains taken to spirit up the minds 
 of the people against this my undertaking?
 
 Cljatle* QEDtoarn at UcrstatHeg. 115 
 
 " The reason is obvious ; it is, lest 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 suffered 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 rightful prince, retained a due 
 sense of so great a trust and favour ? Have you 
 found more humanity and condescension 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 interest of these nations? Have you reaped 
 any other benefit from them than an immense load 
 of debt? If I am answered in the affirmative, why 
 has their government been so often railed at in all 
 your public assemblies? Why has the nation been 
 so long crying out in vain for redress against 
 the abuse of Parliaments, upon account of their 
 long duration, the multitude of placemen, which 
 occasions their venality, the introduction of penal 
 laws, and, in general, against the miserable situa- 
 tion 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 offered to them, seeing the King, 
 on his restoration, will refuse nothing that a free 
 Parliament can ask for the security 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
 
 ii6 Cfjatles! UEtitoatn at 
 
 with rancour and ill-will, which party rage never 
 fails to produce in the minds of those whom dif- 
 ferent interests, principles, or views, set in opposi- 
 tion to one another. I, therefore, earnestly 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 posterity 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 predilec- 
 tion 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 legiti- 
 mate family ; and had there not been a strong, 
 though, I think, unreasonable suspicion in the 
 minds of many, that his success would be the 
 prelude to a vigorous attack upon the established 
 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. 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 were still festering and green. The 
 Established clergy, therefore, were, nearly to a man, 
 opposed to his pretensions ; and one minister of 
 Edinburgh, at the time when the Highland host
 
 dfjarle* <BtoarH at UergatHejS. 117 
 
 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 Presbyterians, 
 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 
 equally obnoxious. Some writers go the length of 
 averring that, in 1688, a negotiation was opened by 
 one section of the Covenanters with Lord Dundee, 
 with the object of resistance to the usurpation of 
 William of Orange, and that the project was 
 frustrated only by the death of that heroic noble- 
 man. Sir Walter Scott a great authority seems 
 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 con- 
 spiracy 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 disaffection to the 
 government ; for, according to Mr. Chambers, the 
 most rigid sect of Presbyterians had, since the 
 revolution, expressed a strong desire to coalesce
 
 ii8 Charles CDinarn at 
 
 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 junc- 
 tion with the Chevalier. But these religionists 
 were now almost as violently distinct from the 
 Established Church of Scotland 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. 
 
 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 augmen- 
 tations it might receive on the way, to effect the 
 occupation of London. Had the English 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 forti- 
 fied town of Carlisle, and in marching, without 
 opposition, through the heart of England, as far as 
 Derby, within one hundred miles of the metropolis. 
 But here his better genius deserted him. Discord 
 had crept into his councils ; for some of the chiefs 
 became seriously alarmed at finding that the gentry 
 of England were not prepared to join the expedi- 
 tion, but 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
 
 Cfjarlejs (futoarti at Ferjsatlleju 119 
 
 Murray and the other members gave it as their 
 unanimous opinion that the army ought to return 
 to Scotland. Lord George {jointed 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 
 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 
 George 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
 
 i2o <Ojark0 GEtJtoarD at 
 
 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 bold- 
 ness of the Prince's onward movement, especially 
 taken into connection with the expected descent 
 from France, had at length disposed the English 
 Jacobites to come out ; and many were just on the 
 point of declaring themselves, and marching to 
 join his army, when the retreat from Derby was 
 determined on. A Mr. Barry arrived in Derby 
 two days after the Prince left it, with a message 
 from Sir Watkin William Wynne and Lord Barry- 
 more, to assure him, in the names of many friends 
 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 county. I have like- 
 wise been assured that many of the Welsh gentry 
 had actually left their homes, and were on the way 
 to join Charles, when intelligence 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 ad vantage over them." 
 One victory more was accorded to Prince Charles, 
 before his final overthrow. After successfully con- 
 ducting his retreat to Scotland, occupying Glasgow, 
 and strengthening his army by the accession of 
 new recruits, he gave battle to the royal forces 
 under General Hawley at Falkirk, 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
 
 (fntoarn at Uerjsatttes. 121 
 
 as the former one, gave great confidence to the 
 insurgents. It has been thus picturesquely por- 
 trayed by the historian of the enterprise : ' ' Some 
 individuals, who beheld the battle from the steeple 
 of Falkirk, used to describe these, 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 
 fast-rolling smoke, and heard the pealing sounds 
 of the discharge ; immediately 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 of 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 contemptible 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 deriving some support from a small 
 body of dragoons, stood their ground under the 
 command of General Huske and Brigadier Chol- 
 mondley. When the Highlanders went past in 
 pursuit, they received a volley from this part of 
 the English army, which brought them to a pause, 
 and caused them to draw back to their former 
 ground, their impression being that some ambus- 
 cade 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." 
 
 The seat of war. was now removed to the North. 
 The month of April 1746 found Prince Charles 
 in possession of Inverness, with an army sorely 
 
 F
 
 122 Charles SEutoarn at 
 
 dwindled in numbers, and in great want of neces- 
 saries and provisions. Many of the Highlanders 
 had retired for the winter to their native glens, 
 and had not yet rejoined the standard. The 
 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 large body of tried and disciplined 
 troops, in the best condition, and supported by 
 the powerful arm of artillery. He effected the 
 passage of the Spey, a large and rapid river which 
 intersects the Highlands, without encountering any 
 opposition, and on the I5th of the month had 
 arrived at Nairn, about nine miles distant from 
 the position occupied by his kinsman and oppo- 
 nent. His superiority in point of strength was 
 so great that the boldest of the insurgent chiefs 
 hesitated as to the policy of giving immediate 
 battle ; and nothing but the desire of covering 
 Inverness prevented the council from recommenc- 
 ing a further retreat into the mountains, where 
 they could not have been easily followed, and 
 where they were certain to have met with rein- 
 forcements. As to the Prince, his confidence in 
 the prowess of the Highlanders was so unbounded, 
 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 war- 
 fare 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 
 Cumberland. He rightly argued, that if his 
 men could approach without being discovered, 
 and make a simultaneous attack in more than 
 one place, the royal forces, then probably either 
 engaged in drinking their commander's health 
 (the 15111 happened to be the anniversary of the 
 Duke's birthday, and was celebrated as such by 
 his army), or sleeping off the effects of the de-
 
 Cliarlcj-f (JEttoarn at "Sttd&ilhs. 123 
 
 bauch, must be completely surprised and cut to 
 pieces, or at least effectually routed. The time 
 appointed for setting out upon the march was 
 eight in the evening, when daylight should have 
 completely disappeared ; and, in the meantime, 
 great pains were taken to conceal the secret from 
 the army. 
 
 This resolution was entered into at three in the 
 afternoon, 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 he 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 abandoning 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 High- 
 landers, contributed in a great degree towards the 
 disaster of the following day. The night chanced 
 to be uncommonly dark, and as it was well known 
 that Cumberland had stationed spies on the 
 principal roads, it became necessary to select a 
 devious route, 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 George Murray at two
 
 124 CTjarleg <JEDtoatB at 
 
 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 
 6f day, when they would be open to the observa- 
 tion of the enemy. Under these circumstances 
 a retreat was commenced ; and the scheme, which 
 at one time seemed to hold out every probability 
 of success, was abandoned. 
 
 "The Highlanders returned, fatigued and dis- 
 consolate, 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 refresh- 
 ment than a little bread and whisky. He felt the 
 utmost anxiety regarding his men, among whom 
 the pangs of hunger, upon bodies exhausted by 
 fatigue, must have been working 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. Considerable 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 battle arriving 
 before they were prepared." 
 
 About eleven in the forenoon, the troops of 
 Cumberland were observed upon the eastern ex- 
 tremity of the wide muir of Culloden, and prepara- 
 tions 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 re- 
 inforcements the whole available force which the 
 Prince could muster was about five thousand 
 men, to oppose at fearful 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
 
 (JEuiuarB at UerjsaiHejS, 125 
 
 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 great clan Colla 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 Macdonalds, who considered 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 
 explained immediately. 
 
 Just before the commencement of the action, the 
 weather, 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 dis- 
 charge told with fearful effect upon the ranks. 
 The chief object of either party at the battle of 
 Culloden seems to have been to force its opponent 
 to leave his position, and to commence the attack. 
 Cumberland, finding that his artillery was doing 
 such execution, had no occasion 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 might 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 stretched upon the heath, that Charles 
 at last gave way to the necessity of ordering a
 
 Cfjatlej! DtoarB at 
 
 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-ball 
 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 attack without Charles's 
 permission having been communicated. 
 
 " Lord George had scarcely determined upon 
 ordering a general movement, when the Macin- 
 toshes, 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 forward 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 left 
 extremity, where the Macdonalds, dissatisfied with 
 their position, hesitated to engage. 
 
 " The action and event of the onset were, through- 
 out, quite as dreadful as the mental emotion which 
 urged it. Notwithstanding that the three files of 
 the front line of English poured forth their incessant 
 fire of musketry notwithstanding that the cannon, 
 now loaded with grapeshot, swept the field as with 
 a hailstorm notwithstanding the flank fire of 
 Wolfe's regiment onward, onward went the head- 
 long 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 suspense, but only a moment 
 for the whirlwind does not reap the forest with 
 greater rapidity than the Highlanders cleared the 
 line. Nevertheless, almost every man in their front 
 rank, chief and gentleman, fell before the deadly
 
 <ntoarn at Ffrjsatllejf. 127 
 
 weapons which they had braved ; and, although 
 the enemy gave way, it was not till every bayonet 
 was bent, and bloody with the strife. 
 
 " When the first 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 force 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 the points of the bayonets." 
 
 Some idea of the determination displayed by the 
 Highlanders in this terrific charge may be gathered 
 from the fact that, in one part of the field, their 
 bodies were afterwards found in layers of three 
 and four deep. The slaughter was fearful, for, 
 out of the five regiments which charged the 
 English, almost all the leaders and men in the 
 front rank were killed. So shaken was the English 
 line, that, had the Macdonald regiments, well- 
 known to yield in valour to none of the clans, 
 come up, the fortune of the day might have been 
 altered. But they never made an onset Smart- 
 ing and sullen at the affront which they conceived 
 to have been put upon their name, they bore the 
 fire of the English regiments without flinching, 
 and gave way to their rage by hewing at the 
 heather with their swords. In vain their chiefs 
 exhorted them to go forward : even at that terrible 
 moment the pride of clanship prevailed. "My 
 God!" cried Macdonald of Keppoch, "has it 
 come to this, that the children of my tribe have 
 forsaken me ! " and he rushed forward alone, sword 
 in hand, with the devotion of an ancient hero, and 
 fell pierced with bullets. 
 
 The Lowland and foreign troops which formed 
 the second line were powerless to retrieve the 
 disaster. All was over. The rout became general,
 
 128 (Sharks <^Htoai at 
 
 and the Prince was forced from the field, which 
 he would not quit, until dragged from it by his 
 immediate bodyguard. 
 
 . Such was the last battle, the result of civil war, 
 which has been fought on British soil. Those who 
 were defeated have acquired as much glory from 
 it as the conquerors and even more, for never 
 was a conquest sullied by such deeds of deliberate 
 cruelty as were perpetrated upon the survivors of 
 the battle of Culloden. It is not, however, the 
 object of the present paper to recount these, or 
 even the romantic history or hairbreadth escapes 
 of the Prince, whilst wandering on the mainland 
 and through the Hebrides. Although a reward 
 of thirty thousand pounds an immense sum for 
 the period was set upon his head although his 
 secret was known to hundreds of persons in every 
 walk of life, and even to the beggar and the outlaw 
 not one attempted to betray him. Not one of 
 all his followers, in the midst of the misery which 
 overtook them, regretted having drawn the sword 
 in his cause, or would not again have gladly im- 
 perilled their lives for the sake of their beloved 
 Chevalier. "He went," says Lord Mahon, "but 
 not with him departed his remembrance from the 
 Highlanders. For years and years did his name 
 continue enshrined in their hearts and familiar to 
 their tongues, their plaintive ditties resounding 
 with his exploits and inviting his return. Again, 
 in these strains, do they declare themselves ready 
 to risk life and fortune for his cause ; and even 
 maternal fondness the strongest, perhaps, of all 
 human feelings yields to the passionate devotion 
 to Prince Charlie." 
 
 The subsequent life of the Prince is a story of 
 melancholy interest. We find him at first received 
 in France with all the honours due to one who, 
 though unfortunate, had exhibited a heroism rarely 
 equalled and never surpassed : gradually he was 
 neglected and slighted, as one of a doomed and 
 unhappy race, whom no human exertion could
 
 Cfjatks! CotoarB at UersiatHeiS. 129 
 
 avail to elevate to their former seat of power ; and 
 finally, when his presence in France became an 
 obstacle to the conclusion of peace, he was violently 
 arrested and conveyed out of the kingdom. There 
 can be little doubt that continued misfortune and 
 disappointment had begun very 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 vivre et pas vivre est 
 beaucoup plus que de mourir ! " And again, 
 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 situa- 
 tion is such that I have nothing to say but im- 
 precations against the fatality of being born in 
 such a detestable age." An unhappy and uncon- 
 genial marriage tended still more to embitter his 
 existence ; 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 
 palliation 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: "Mr. 
 Greathead, a personal friend of Mr. Fox, suc- 
 ceeded, when at Rome in 1782 or 1783, in obtain- 
 ing an interview with Charles Edward ; and, being 
 alone with him for some time, studiously led the 
 conversation 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,
 
 130 Cfjarlesi Citoart at 
 
 however, the Prince seemed to shake off the load 
 which oppressed him ; his eye brightened, his face 
 assumed unwonted animation, and he entered 
 upon the narrative of his Scottish campaigns with 
 a distinct but somewhat vehement energy of man- 
 ner recounted his marches, his battles, his vic- 
 tories, his retreats, and his defeats detailed his 
 hairbreadth escapes in the Western Isles, the in- 
 violable 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 be 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 3Oth of 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 
 most graceful tribute ever paid by royalty to mis- 
 fortune REGIO CINERI PIETAS REGIA.
 
 CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 
 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CULLODKN. 
 
 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 wall. 
 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 : 
 Fatal day, whereon the latest 
 
 Die was cast for me and mine ; 
 Cruel day, that quelled the fortunes 
 
 Of the hapless Stuart line ! 
 Phantom-like, as in a mirror, 
 
 Rise the griesly scenes of death 
 There before me, in its wildness, 
 
 Stretches bare Culloden's hcrith : 
 There the broken clans are scattered, 
 
 Gaunt as wolVes, and famine-eyed, 
 Hunger gnawing at their vitals,
 
 132 Charles (JEtJijoarB at 
 
 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 ! 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, 
 When the noble Tullibardine 
 
 Stood beneath its weltering fold, 
 With the Ruddy Lion ramping 
 
 In the field of tressured gold ! 
 When the mighty heart of Scotland, 
 
 All too big to slumber more, 
 Burst in wrath and exultation, 
 
 Like a huge volcano's roar ! 
 There they stand, the battered columns, 
 
 Underneath the murky sky, 
 In the hush of desperation, 
 
 Not to conquer but to die. 
 Hark ! the bagpipe's fitful wailing : 
 
 Not the pibroch loud and shrill, 
 That, with hope of bloody banquet, 
 
 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 ! 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
 
 CtitoatiJ at Uersatlleji. 133 
 
 Trusty Keppoch ! stout Glengarry ! 
 
 Gallant Gordon ! wise Locheill ! 
 Bid the clansmen hold together, 
 
 Fast, and fell, and firm as steel. 
 Elcho ! never look so gloomy 
 
 What avails a saddened brow ? 
 Heart, man, heart ! We need it sorely, 
 
 Never half so much as now. 
 Had we but a thousand troopers, 
 
 Had we but a thousand more ! 
 Noble Perth, I hear them coming ! 
 
 Hark ! the English cannons' roar. 
 God ! how awful sounds that volley, 
 
 Bellowing through the mist and rain ! 
 Was not that the Highland slogan ? 
 
 Let me hear that shout again ! 
 Oh, for prophet eyes to witness 
 
 How the desperate battle goes ! 
 Cumberland ! I would not fear thee, 
 
 Could my Camerons see their foes. 
 Sound, I say, the charge at venture 
 
 'Tis not naked steel we fear ; 
 Better perish in the melle 
 
 Than be shot like driven deer ! 
 Hold ! the mist begins to scatter ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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? where am I now?
 
 134 Charles! <Btoatn at 
 
 Will that baleful vision never 
 
 Vanish from my aching sight? 
 Must those scenes and sounds of terror 
 
 Haunt me still by day and night ? 
 Yea, the earth hath no oblivion 
 
 For the noblest chance it gave, 
 None, save in its latest refuge 
 
 Seek it only in the grave ! 
 Love may die, and hatred slumber, 
 
 And their memory will decay, 
 As the watered garden recks not 
 
 Of the drought of yesterday ; 
 But the dream of power once broken 
 
 What shall give repose again? 
 What shall charm the serpent-furies 
 
 Coiled around the maddening brain ? 
 What kind draught can nature offer 
 
 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 such as me, 
 With my 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 sen-ant 
 
 Fed with hopes of future gain 
 Worse by far is fancied freedom 
 
 Than the captive's clanking chain ! 
 Could I change this gilded bondage 
 
 Even for the dusky tower, 
 Whence King James beheld his lady 
 
 Sitting in the castle bower ; 
 Birds around her sweetly singing,
 
 utoaj at FerjsaiHe*. 135 
 
 Fluttering on the kindling spray, 
 And the comely garden glowing 
 
 In the light of rosy May. 
 Love descended to the window 
 
 Love removed the bolt and bar 
 Love was warder to the lovers 
 
 From the dawn to even-star. 
 Wherefore, Love, didst thou betray me? 
 
 Where is now the tender glance ? 
 Where the meaning looks once lavished 
 
 By the dark-eyed Maid of France ? 
 Where the words of hope she whispered, 
 
 When around my neck she threw 
 That same scarf of broidered tissue, 
 
 Bade me 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 fathers' waved before ? 
 And I went and did not conquer 
 
 Put I brought it back again 
 Brought it back from storm and battle 
 
 Brought it back without a stain ; 
 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 " 
 Scornfully she 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 1 
 Worthy of a bold Proven9al, 
 
 Pacing through 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.
 
 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 ! 
 
 Woman's faith is traced in 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 ! 
 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 heart so kindly 
 
 As beneath the tartan plaid ! 
 Flora ! 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 chaunt 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,
 
 <Dtoam at FerjSaiHe*. 137 
 
 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 ! 
 Bitter tears and sobs of anguish, 
 
 Unavailing though they be : 
 Oh, the brave the brave and noble 
 
 That have died in vain for me !
 
 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. 134. 
 
 James I. of Scotland, one of the most accom- 
 plished kings that ever sate upon a throne, is the 
 person here indicated. His history is a very strange 
 and romantic one. He was son of Robert III., 
 and immediate younger brother of that unhappy 
 Duke of Rothesay who was murdered at Falk- 
 land. His father, apprehensive of the designs and 
 treachery of Albany, had determined to remove 
 him, when a mere boy, for a season from Scot- 
 land ; and as France was then considered the best 
 school for the education of one so important from 
 his high position, it was resolved to send him 
 thither, under the care of the Earl of Orkney, and 
 Fleming of Cumbernauld. He accordingly em- 
 barked at North Berwick, with little escort as 
 there was a truce for the time between England 
 and Scotland ; and they were under no appre- 
 hension 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 
 138
 
 Cfjatlesf (JEutoarn at TUtrtzilltf. 139 
 
 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 dominions. In vain did they represent 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 
 father could not have sent him to a better master. 
 So flagrant a breach of the law 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 govern- 
 ment, 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 him 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 sus- 
 tenance, and died soon after of a broken heart." 
 
 James was finally incarcerated in Windsor Castle, 
 where he endured an imprisonment 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 King was supplied with the best masters ; 
 and gradually became an adept in all the accom-
 
 i4Q Charles <Dtoarn at FctjSaiHes. 
 
 plishments 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. From 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 and niece of Henry IV., and who after- 
 wards 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 wandis long and small 
 Railed about, and so with trees set 
 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 leavis greene 
 Beshaded all the alleys that there were, 
 And tnids 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, 
 Where as I saw, walking under the tower, 
 Full secretly, now comen here to plain, 
 The fairest or the freshest younge flower 
 That e'er I saw, methought, before that hour :
 
 <tiiJ3arn at Uersiatttcis. 141 
 
 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 nmo the tender glance ? 
 Where the meaning looks once lavished 
 
 By the dark-eyed Maid of France ? P. 135. 
 
 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 collec- 
 tion 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 frequently he 
 appeared to be more than ordinarily well pleased."
 
 THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 
 
 THE "gentle Locheill" may be considered as the 
 pattern of a Highland Chief. Others who headed 
 the insurrection may have been actuated by motives 
 of personal ambition, and by a desire for aggran- 
 disement ; 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 enter- 
 prise which he conscientiously believed to be des- 
 perate; but, having failed in doing so, he nobly 
 stood firm to the cause which his conscience vindi- 
 cated as just, and cheerfully imperilled his life, 
 and sacrificed his fortune, at the bidding of his 
 master. There was no one, even among those 
 who espoused the other side, in Scotland, who 
 did not commiserate the misfortunes of this truly 
 excellent man, whose humanity was not less con- 
 spicuous than his valour throughout 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, Lord Pitsligo, a nobleman 
 whose conscientious views impelled 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 de- 
 clared for King William. Lord Pitsligo, on the 
 contrary, having been educated abroad, and early 
 introduced to the circle at Saint Germains, con- 
 143
 
 144 ^H)* SDn> %cottts!) Cabafter. 
 
 ceived a deep personal attachment to the members 
 of the exiled line. He was anything but an en- 
 thusiast, as his philosophical and religious writings, 
 well worthy of a perusal, will show. He was the 
 intimate friend of Fe'ne'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 parlia- 
 mentary 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 commence- 
 ment 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 Scottish com- 
 mercial privileges, that it was not till the best part 
 of a century after the event that the inestimable 
 fruits of the treaty began to be felt and known. 
 This distant period Lord Pitsligo could not foresee. 
 He 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. 
 
 * See Blackivoods Magazine for May 1829. Article 
 ''Lord Pitsligo."
 
 flDIn ScottteTj dataller. 145 
 
 "Looking upon the Act of Settlement of the 
 Crown, and the Act of Adjuration, as unlawful, 
 Lord Pitsligo retired to his house in the country, 
 and threw up attendance 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 relative 
 the Earl of Mar. 
 
 "Mar, a versatile statesman and an able in- 
 triguer, had consulted his ambition rather than 
 his talents when he assumed the command of 
 such an enterprise. He sunk beneath the far 
 superior genius of the Duke of Argyle ; and after 
 the undecisive battle of Sheriffmuir, the confederacy 
 which he had formed, but was unable to direct, 
 dissolved like a snowball, and the nobles con- 
 cerned 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 arts had no existence. 
 Men seemed to play at being courtiers in that 
 illusory court, as children play at being soldiers." 
 
 It would appear that Lord Pitsligo was not 
 attainted for his share in Mar's rebellion. He 
 returned to Scotland in 1720, and resided at his 
 castle in Aberdeenshire, not mingling in public 
 affairs, but gaining, through his charity, kindness, 
 and benevolence, the respect and affection of all 
 around him. He was sixty-seven years of age 
 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 S 
 "So when he who was so wise and prudent 
 declared his purpose of joining Charles, most of 
 
 G
 
 146 tjrfje QDln Scottish Cabalter. 
 
 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 me pretty 
 much. I have mentioned the weightier considera- 
 tions of a family, which would make the censure 
 still the greater, and set the more tongues agoing. 
 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 mis- 
 fortunes of 1715, he replied gaily, ' Did you ever 
 know me absent at the second day of a wedding ? ' 
 meaning, I suppose, that having once contracted 
 an engagement, he did not feel entitled to quit it 
 while the contest subsisted. Being invited by the 
 gentlemen of the district to pat himself at their 
 bead, 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 remount- 
 ing his horse. 'My little fellow,' said Lord 
 Pitsligo, ' this is the severest rebuke I have yet re- 
 ceived, 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 ser- 
 vants, to the number of a hundred men. When 
 they were drawn up in readiness to commence the 
 expedition, the venerable nobleman, their leader, 
 inoved to their front, lifted his hat, and, looking 
 up to heaven, pronounced, with a solemn voice, 
 the awful appeal, 'O Lord, Thou knowest that
 
 Cfje SDID fecottijff) Catoalter. 147 
 
 our cause is just ! ' then added the signal for de- 
 parture ' March, gentlemen ! ' 
 
 " Lord Pitsligo, with his followers, found Charles 
 at Edinburgh, on 8th October 1745, a few days 
 after the Highlanders' victory at Preston. Their 
 arrival was hailed with enthusiasm, not only on 
 account of the timely reinforcement, but more 
 especially from the high character of their leader. 
 Hamilton of Bangour, in an animated and elo- 
 quent eulogium upon Pitsligo, states that nothing 
 could have fallen out more fortunately for the 
 Prince than his joining them did for it seemed 
 as if religion, virtue, and justice were entering his 
 camp, under the appearance of this venerable old 
 man ; and what would have given sanction to a 
 cause of the most dubious right, could not fail to 
 render sacred the very best. " 
 
 Although so far advanced in years, he remained 
 in arms during the whole campaign, and was 
 treated with almost filial tenderness by the Prince. 
 After Culloden, he became, like many more, a 
 fugitive and an outlaw, but succeeded, like the 
 Baron of Bradwardine, in finding a shelter upon 
 the skirts of his own estate. Disguised as a 
 mendicant, his secret was faithfully kept by the 
 tenantry ; and although it was more than surmised 
 by the soldiers that he was lurking somewhere 
 in the neighbourhood, they never were able to 
 detect him. On one occasion he actually guided 
 a party to a cave on the sea-shore, amidst the 
 rough rocks of Buchan, where it was ntmoured 
 that he was lying in concealment ; and on an- 
 other, when overtaken by his asthma, and utterly 
 unable to escape from an approaching patrol of 
 soldiers, he sat down by the wayside, 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 
 meantime both title and estate were forfeited by 
 attainder. His last escape was so very remark-
 
 148 SHje 9DID Scottis!) Cabalier. 
 
 able, that I may be pardoned for giving it in the 
 language of the author of his memoirs. 
 
 " In March 1756, and of course long after all 
 apprehension of a search had ceased, information 
 having been given to the commanding officer at 
 Fraserburgh, that Lord Pitsligo was at that 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 
 occurrehce. Mrs. Sophia Donaldson, a lady who 
 lived much with the family, repeatedly dreamt, on 
 that particular night, 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 hopes of giving a different 
 current to her thoughts before she lay down again ; 
 when, day beginning to dawn, she accidentally 
 looked out at the window as she passed it in travers- 
 ing the room, and was astonished at actually observ- 
 ing the figures 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 some- 
 thing more than hens. She begged Mrs. Sophia 
 to look out at a window on the other side of the 
 house, when not only were soldiers seen in that 
 direction, but also an officer giving instructions by 
 signal, and frequently putting his fingers to his 
 lips, as if enjoining 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, 
 which was concealed by a bed, in which a lady. 
 Miss Gordon of Towie, who was there on a visit,
 
 SDIn %cotttet) Cataliet. 149 
 
 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 examined, 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 confinement and anxiety increased Lord 
 Pitsligo's asthma so much, and his breathing be- 
 came so loud, that it cost Miss Gordon, lying in 
 bed, much and violent coughing, which she coun- 
 terfeited, in order to prevent the high breathings 
 behind the wainscot from being heard. It may be 
 easily be conceived what agony she would suffer, 
 lest, by overdoing her part, she should increase 
 suspicion, and in fact 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 morning ; 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 
 government to seize on the persons of any of the 
 surviving insurgents. Three years before, Dr. 
 Archibald Cameron, a brother of Locheill, hav- 
 ing clandestinely revisited Scotland, 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 conducted in the
 
 150 3Ef)e SDln %cottirfb Cabalier. 
 
 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 
 quite possible that the zeal of a partisan may have 
 led him to take a step which would 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 dis- 
 gust 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 
 rara avis in terris ; and, among all my acquaint- 
 ance, 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 acquaintance, my Lbrd Pitsligo would 
 always find something 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.
 
 SDln Scotttsrt) Cabalier. 151 
 
 "It is no wonder that such an excellent man, 
 who, besides, is a polite scholar, and has many 
 other great and good qualities, should be uni- 
 versally admired and beloved insomuch, 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 pro- 
 tracted 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 un- 
 clouded, able to study his favourite volume, en- 
 joying the comforts of friendship, and delighting 
 in the consolations of religion, till he gently ' fell 
 asleep in Jesus.' He died on the 2ist 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 mortifica- 
 tion to be indebted to a stranger, now the proprietor 
 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 re- 
 membrance ; and Lord Pitsligo has just title to be 
 called the last of the old 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. 
 
 COME listen to another song, 
 
 Should make your heart beat high, 
 Bring crimson to your forehead, 
 
 And the lustre to your eye ; 
 It is a song of olden time, 
 
 Of days long since gone by, 
 And of a Baron stout and bold 
 
 As e'er wore sword on thigh ! 
 
 Like a brave old Scottish cavalier, 
 All of the olden time ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 in. 
 
 His father drew the righteous sword 
 
 For Scotland and her claims, 
 Among the loyal gentlemen 
 
 And chiefs of ancient names
 
 Cije SDto %cottt'0& Caftaltet. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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 ! 
 That night the fiery cross was sped 
 
 O'er mountain and through glen ; 
 And our old Baron rose in might, 
 
 Like a lion from his den, 
 And rode away across the hills 
 
 To Charlie and his men. 
 
 With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, 
 All of the olden time ! 
 
 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, 
 
 G 2
 
 154 ^f)f SDIn %cottt!Sf) Cabafter. 
 
 Until, on bleak Culloden's heath, 
 He gave his soul to God, 
 
 Like a good old Scottish cavalier, 
 All of the olden time ! 
 
 Oh ! 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 !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 BLIND OLD MILTON. 
 
 PLACE 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 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 I win 
 
 More honour by 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 ! is the sun abroad ? I feel 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 1 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 
 '57
 
 158 TSltnn SDIB SJDifton. 
 
 Upon her living and rejoicing face- 
 Fain would I see thy countenance, my child, 
 My comforter ! 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 small 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 itself 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 
 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 straight and narrow path to heaven. 
 
 Yet I am weak oh ! how entirely weak, 
 For one who may not love nor suffer more ! 
 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 chaunt prolong 
 Neath skies more calm and more serene than ours, 
 Making the summer one perpetual song ?
 
 TSttnn SDIn 99ilton. 159 
 
 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 ! O my bride ! 
 
 Despite of years, and woe, and want, and pain, 
 My soul yearns back towards thee, and I seem 
 To wander with thee, hand in hand, again, 
 By the bright margin of that flowing stream. 
 
 1 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 ! 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 the starry sphere 
 
 Where all is love, and even life forgiven. 
 Bride of immortal beauty ever dear ! 
 Dost thou await me in thy blest abode ? 
 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, 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-grots where the Nereids dwell 
 Old thoughts still haunt me unawares they come 
 Between me and my rest, nor can I make 
 Those aged visitors of sorrow dumb. 
 Oh, yet awhile, my feeble soul, awake ! 
 Nor wander back with sullen steps again ;
 
 160 TSItnn SDIB 
 
 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, 
 
 And be thou calm, till death shall set thee free. 
 
 Thy flowers 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 waste the gifts which nature gave, 
 
 Nor slothful lay in the Circe'an bower ; 
 
 Nor did I yield myself the willing slave 
 
 Of lust for pride, for riches, or for power. 
 
 No ! in my heart a nobler spirit dwelt ; 
 
 For constant was my faith in manhood's dower ; 
 
 Man made in God's 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 champion, even iu early youth 
 
 I waged my battle with a purpose keen ; 
 
 Nor feared the hand of terror, nor the tooth 
 
 Of serpent jealousy. And I have been 
 
 With starry Galileo in his cell, 
 
 That wise magician with the brow serene, 
 
 Who fathomed space ; and I have seen him tell 
 
 The wonders of the planetary sphere, 
 
 And trace the ramparts of heaven's citadel 
 
 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,
 
 TBItnU SDftl 09ilton. 161 
 
 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 woe 
 
 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 shade, 
 
 A weak old man, deserted by his kind 
 
 Whom none will comfort in his age, nor aid ! 
 
 Oh, let me not repine ! A quiet mind, 
 Conscious 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 cast away : 
 And the old pilgrim,. weary and alone, 
 Bowed down with travel, at his Master's gate 
 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.
 
 HERMOTIMUS. 
 
 HERMOTIMUS, the hero of this ballad, was a phi- 
 losopher, or rather a prophet, of Clazomenae, who 
 possessed the faculty, now claimed by the animal- 
 magnetists, of effecting a voluntary separation be- 
 tween 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, 
 however, 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 re- 
 ceptacle. 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 unconnubial conduct. He received 
 divine honours at Clazomenae, but must neverthe- 
 less remain as a terrible example and warning to 
 all husbands who carry their scientific or spiritual 
 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 Treatise of Nervous Diseases, as having come 
 under his own observation ; and, as this case is 
 162
 
 163 
 
 exactly similar to that of the Prophet, it may 
 amuse the reader to see how far an ancient fable 
 may be illustrated, 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. Baynard and I were called to him, and 
 attended him twice a-day ; but his vomitings con- 
 tinuing 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 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 experiment 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 
 were 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,
 
 164 ^ermottmtts. 
 
 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, till 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 unaccountable ; and, finding he 
 still continued in that condition, we began to con- 
 clude 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 examination, found his pulse and the 
 motion of his heart gradually returning. He 
 began to breathe gently and speak softly. We 
 were all astonished to the last degree at this un- 
 expected 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." 
 
 " 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 ! come at last 
 Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast."
 
 ^crmottmujJ. 165 
 
 " Weary am I, but my soul is waking ; 
 
 Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side, 
 But my spirit then, its home forsaking, 
 Through the realms of space would wander 
 wide 
 
 Everything forgot, 
 What would be thy lot, 
 If I came not back to thee, my bride? 
 
 in. 
 
 " Music, like the lute of young Apollo, 
 Vibrates even now within mine ear ; 
 Soft and silver voices bid me follow, 
 Yet my soul is dull and will not hear. 
 Waking it will stay : 
 Let me watch till day 
 Fainter will they come, and disappear. " 
 
 " Speak not thus to me, my own my dearest, 
 
 These are but the phantoms of thy brain ; 
 Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest, 
 Thou shall wake to love and life again. 
 Were this sleep thy last, 
 I should hold thee fast, 
 Thou shouldst strive against me but 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 ? 
 
 " Lo ! the cressets of the night are waning 
 Old Orion hastens from the sky ;
 
 166 tyetmotimus. 
 
 Only thou of all things art remaining 
 Unrefreshed by slumber thou and I. 
 Sound and sense are still ; 
 Even the distant rill 
 Murmurs fainter now, and languidly. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 sate lone bending 
 Marble-like and marble-hued he lay ; 
 Underneath her raven locks descending, 
 Paler seemed his face, and ashen gray, 
 And so white his brow 
 White and cold as snow 
 "Husband! Gods! his soul hath passed away 
 
 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 his funeral bed, 
 And they kindled up the flames below.
 
 ftermotimu*. 167 
 
 Swiftly rose they, and the corse surrounded. 
 
 Spreading out a pall into the air ; 
 And the sharp and sudden crackling sounded 
 Mournfully to all the watchers there. 
 Soon their force was spent, 
 And the body blent 
 With the embers' slow-expiring glare. 
 
 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 
 Aad the winds without were moaning drear. 
 
 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. 
 
 Once again the voice beside her sounded, 
 
 Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone 
 " Nor by form or shade am I surrounded, 
 Fleshly home and dwelling have I none. 
 They are passed away 
 Woe is me ! to-day 
 Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone. 
 
 *' Vainly were the words of parting spoken ; 
 Evermore must Charon turn from me.
 
 i6S Jt)ermottjmt$s. 
 
 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. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten 
 
 Seen him wave afar 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. 
 
 xvn. 
 " 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 last passport to eternity. 
 
 " Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest 
 
 Fatal, O Apollo, was thy love ! 
 Pythian ! Archer ! brightest God and bravest, 
 Hear, O hear me from thy throne above ! 
 Let me not, I pray, 
 Thus be cast away : 
 Plead for me thy slave O plead to Jove ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " 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 
 With its innate light, 
 Hath ere now been bent so low as mine.
 
 ^ertnottmujs. 169 
 
 " Hast thou lost the wish the will to cherish 
 
 Those who trusted in thy godlike power ? 
 Hyacinthus did not wholly perish ! 
 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. 
 
 " Hear me, Phoebus ! Hear me and deliver ! 
 
 Lo ! 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 ! 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " Thou hast heard thy servant's prayer, Apollo, 
 
 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.
 
 CBNONE. 
 
 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 ! cruel Paris ! " 
 
 Thus the poor deserted spake 
 1 ' 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 
 
 Would this throbbing heart might break ! 
 
 " Is my face no longer blooming? 
 
 Are my eyes no longer bright ? 
 Ah ! my tears have made them dimmer, 
 
 And my cheeks are pale and white. 
 I have wept since early morning, 
 
 I will weep the livelong night ; 
 Now I long for sullen darkness, 
 
 As I once have longed for light. 
 
 " Paris ! canst thou then be cruel ? 
 
 Fair, and young, and brave thou art 
 Can it be that in thy bosom 
 
 Lies so cold, so hard a heart? 
 170
 
 flDcnone. 
 
 Children were we bred together 
 She who bore me suckled thee ; 
 
 I have been thine old companion, 
 When thou hadst no more but me. 
 
 " I have watched tbee in thy slumbers, 
 
 When the shadow of a dream 
 Passed across thy smiling features, 
 
 Like the ripple of 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 ; 
 Then thine eyes would fill and glisten, 
 
 Her complaint could soften thee : 
 Thou hast wept for Ariadne 
 
 Theseus' self might weep for me ! 
 
 " 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 
 
 ' ' O thou hollow ship that bearest 
 
 Paris o'er the faithless deep ! 
 Wouldst thou leave him on some island 
 
 Where alone the waters weep ; 
 Where no human foot is moulded 
 
 In the wet and yellow sand 
 Leave him there, thou hollow vessel ! 
 
 Leave him on that lonely land !
 
 172 SDenone. 
 
 " 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 homewards 
 
 Unto Ida and to me ! 
 
 " O ! that like a little swallow 
 
 I could reach that lonely spot ! 
 All his errors would be pardoned, 
 
 All 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 ! " 
 
 Thus lamented fair (Enone, 
 
 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.
 
 THE BURIED 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. 
 
 O, the garden I remember, 
 In the gay and sunny spring, 
 
 When our laughter made the thickets 
 And the arching alleys ring ! 
 
 O the merry burst of gladness ! 
 
 O the soft and tender tone ! 
 O the whisper never uttered 
 
 Save to one fond ear alone ! 
 
 O the light of life that sparkled 
 
 In those bright and bounteous eyes ! 
 
 O the blush of happy beauty, 
 Tell-tale of the heart's surprise ! 
 
 O the radiant light that girdled 
 Field and forest, land and sea, 
 
 When we all were young together, 
 And the earth was new to me ! 
 
 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. 
 
 173
 
 174 3Tfi e TBurieu JFlofoer. 
 
 For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones ! 
 
 Nursed in hope and reared in love, 
 Looking fondly ever upward 
 
 To the clear blue heaven above : 
 
 Smiling on the sun that cheered us, 
 Rising lightly from the rain, 
 
 Never folding up your freshness 
 Save to give it forth again : 
 
 Never shaken, save by accents 
 From a tongue that was not free, 
 
 As the modest blossom trembles 
 At the wooing of the bee. 
 
 O ! 'tis sad to lie and reckon 
 All the days of faded youth, 
 
 All the vows that we believed in, 
 All the words we spoke in truth. 
 
 Severed were it severed only 
 By an idle thought of strife, 
 
 Such as time might knit together ; 
 Not the broken chord of life ! 
 
 O my heart ! that once so truly 
 Kept another's time and tune, 
 
 Heart, that kindled in the spring-tide, 
 Look. around thee in the noon. 
 
 Where are they who gave the impulse 
 To thy earliest thought and flow? 
 
 Look around the ruined garden- 
 All are withered, dropped, or low ! 
 
 Seek the birth-place of the lily, 
 Dearer to the boyish dream 
 
 Than the golden cups of Eden, 
 Floating on its slumbrous stream ;
 
 TBurteti jFIotoer. 175 
 
 Never more shall thou behold her 
 She, the noblest, fairest, best : 
 
 She that rose in fullest beauty, 
 Like a queen, above the rest. 
 
 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. 
 
 O ! I fling my spirit backward, 
 And I pass o'er years of pain ; 
 
 All I loved is rising round me, 
 All the lost returns again. 
 
 Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes, 
 
 Warmly as ye did before ! 
 Bloom again, ye happy gardens, 
 
 With the radiant tints of yore 1 
 
 Warble out in spray and thicket, 
 
 All ye choristers unseen ; 
 Let the leafy woodland echo 
 
 With an anthem to its queen ! 
 
 Lo 1 she cometh in her beauty, 
 
 Stately with a Juno grace, 
 Raven locks, Madonna-braided 
 
 O'er her sweet and blushing face : 
 
 Eyes of deepest violet, beaming 
 With the love that knows not shame 
 
 Lips, that thrill my inmost being 
 With the utterance of a name. 
 
 And I bend the knee before her, 
 As a captive ought to bow, 
 
 Pray thee, listen to my pleading, 
 Sovereign of my soul art thou t
 
 176 Wot TButieD Jlotuer. 
 
 O my dear and gentle lady, 
 Let me show thee all my pain, 
 
 Ere the words that late were prisoned 
 Sink into my heart again. 
 
 Love, they say, is very fearful 
 Ere its curtain be withdrawn, 
 
 Trembling at the thought of error 
 As the shadows scare the fawn. 
 
 Love hath bound me to thee, lady, 
 Since the well-remembered day 
 
 When I first beheld thee coming 
 In the light of lustrous May. 
 
 Not a word I dared to utter ' 
 More than he who, long ago, 
 
 Saw the heavenly shapes descending 
 Over Ida's slopes of snow : 
 
 When a low and solemn music 
 
 Floated through the listening grove, 
 
 And the throstle's song was silenced, 
 And the doling of the dove : 
 
 When immortal beauty opened 
 All its grace to mortal sight, 
 
 And the awe of worship blended 
 With the throbbing of delight. 
 
 As the shepherd stood before them 
 Trembling in the Phrygian dell, 
 
 Even so my soul and being 
 Owned the magic of the spell ; 
 
 And I watched thee ever fondly, 
 Watched thee, dearest ! from afar. 
 
 With the mute and humble homage 
 Of the Indian to a star.
 
 TBurtet jFIotocr. 177 
 
 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. 
 
 So for many a day I followed 
 
 For a long and weary while, 
 Ere my heart rose up to bless thee 
 
 For the yielding of a smile, 
 
 Ere thy words were few and broken 
 As they answered back to mine, 
 
 Ere my lips had power to thank thee 
 For the gift vouchsafed by thine. 
 
 Then a mighty gush of passion 
 Through my inmost being ran ; 
 
 Then my older life was ended, 
 And a dearer course began. 
 
 Dearer ! O, I cannot tell thee 
 
 What a load was swept away, 
 What a world of doubt and darkness 
 
 Faded in the dawning day ! 
 
 All my error, all my weakness, 
 
 All my vain delusions fled : 
 Hope again revived, and gladness 
 
 Waved its wings above my head. 
 
 Like the wanderer of the desert, 
 When, across the dreary sand, 
 
 Breathes the perfume from the thickets 
 Bordering on the promised land ; 
 
 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 :
 
 178 tSEfie TSurteB 
 
 So a fresh and glad emotion 
 Rose within my swelling breast. 
 
 And I hurried swiftly onwards 
 To the haven of my rest. 
 
 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 feet ! 
 
 O ye words that sound so hollow 
 
 As I now recall your tone ! 
 What are ye but empty echoes 
 
 Of a passion crushed and gone? 
 
 Wherefore should I seek to kindle 
 Light, when all around is gloom ? 
 
 Wherefore should I raise a phantom 
 O'er the dark and silent tomb ? 
 
 Early wert thou taken, Mary! 
 
 In thy fair and glorious prime, 
 Ere the bees had ceased to murmur 
 
 Through the umbrage of the lime. 
 
 Buds were blowing, waters flowing, 
 Birds were singing on the tree, 
 
 Every thing was bright and glowing 
 When the angels came for thee. 
 
 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. 
 
 Hardly had the mountain violet 
 Spread its blossoms on the sod, 
 
 Ere they laid the turf above thee, 
 And thy spirit rose to God.
 
 "Bur ten JFTotoer. 179 
 
 Early wert thou taken, Mary ! 
 
 And I know 'tis vain to weep) 
 Tears of mine can never wake thee 
 
 From thy sad and silent sleep. 
 
 O away ! my thoughts are earthward ! 
 
 Not asleep, my love, art thou 1 
 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 everlasting beauty, 
 Shall I see thee once again, 
 
 By the light that never fadeth, 
 
 Underneath eternal skies, 
 When the dawn of resurrection 
 
 Breaks o'er deathless Paradise.
 
 THE OLD CAMP. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION 
 IN BAVARIA. 
 
 THERF. is a cloud before the sun, 
 
 The wind 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. 
 
 n. 
 No light 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 and cold, 
 
 So far from human ken, 
 It hath a look that makes me old. 
 
 And spectres time again. 
 
 in. 
 I listen, half in thought, to hear 
 
 The Roman trumpet blow 
 I search for glint of helm and spear 
 
 Amidst the forest bough : 
 And armour rings, and voices swell- 
 
 I hear the legion's tramp, 
 And mark the lonely sentinel 
 
 Who guards the lonely camp.
 
 181 
 
 IV. 
 
 Methinks 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 knew 
 
 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. 
 
 And yet, if yonder sky were blue. 
 
 And earth were sunny gay, 
 If nature wore the summer hue 
 
 That decked her yesterday, 
 The mound, the trench, the rampart's space, 
 
 Would move me nothing more 
 Than many a sweet sequestred place 
 
 That I have marked before. 
 
 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 grass 
 
 Would scare me back to life.
 
 182 3CT)e SDIn Camp. 
 
 Then is the past so gloomy now 
 
 That it may never bear 
 The open smile of nature's brow, 
 
 Or meet the 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. 
 
 "DANUBE, Danube ! 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 sullied 
 
 With a hue unknown to me ; 
 Wherefore dost thou bring pollution 
 
 To the old and sacred sea? " 
 
 " Ha ! rejoice, old Father Euxine ! 
 
 I am brimming full and red ; 
 Noble tidings do I carry 
 
 From my distant channel-bed. 
 I have been a Christian 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 gladsome roar ; 
 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, 
 183
 
 1 84 Danufce anu rije ujctne. 
 
 And the blood of man was mingling 
 
 Warmly with my chilly tide. 
 Father Euxine ! thou rememb'rest 
 
 How I brought thee tribute then- 
 Swollen corpses, gashed and gory, 
 
 Heads and limbs of slaughter'd men ? 
 Father Euxine ! be thou joyful ! 
 
 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 
 Ha ! 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. 
 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 ! 
 Take my tribute, Father Euxine, 
 To thy waters dark and drear. 
 Therefore come I with my torrents, 
 Shaking castle, crag, and town ; 
 Therefore, with the shout of thunder, 
 Sweep I herd and herdsman down ; 
 Therefore leap I to thy bosom , 
 
 With a loud triumphal roar 
 Greet me, greet me, Father Euxine 
 I am Christian stream no more ! "
 
 THE SCHEIK OF SINAI IN 1830. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF FREILIGRATH. 
 
 " LIFT me without the tent, I say, 
 
 Me and my ottoman, 
 I'll see the messenger myself ! 
 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 purling brook 
 Delights the tired gazelle, 
 So pant I for the voice of him 
 That cometh from afar ! " 
 
 n. 
 
 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 war-hymn of Marseilles 
 The squadrons pace the street. 
 
 The armament from Toulon sailed : 
 The Franks have crossed the sea.
 
 186 I>e %d)eift of 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " The Moors have ta'en their vantage-ground, 
 
 The volleys thunder fast 
 The dark defile is blazing 
 Like a heated oven-blast ; 
 The lion hears the strange turmoil, 
 
 And leaves his mangled prey 
 No place was that for him to feed ; 
 
 And thick and loud the cries, 
 Feu ! Allah ! Allah ! En avant ! 
 In mingled discord rise ; 
 The Franks have reached the summit 
 They have won the victory ! 
 
 "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,
 
 tft of %tnai. 187 
 
 Where countless minarets stand up 
 So solemnly and gray, 
 Amidst the dark-green masses 
 Of the flowering myrtle-trees. 
 
 ' ' The almond blossoms in the vale ; 
 
 The aloe 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 
 Float proudly and triumphantly 
 A salvo ! come, prepare ! 
 
 And loud and long the mountains rang 
 With that glad artillery." 
 
 " 'Tis they ! " exclaimed the aged Scheik. 
 
 " I've battled by their side 
 I fought beneath the Pyramids ! 
 That day of deathless pride 
 
 Red as thy turban, Moor, that eve, 
 
 Was every creek in Nile ! 
 But tell me " and he griped his hand 
 
 ' ' Their Sultaun. Stranger, say 
 His form his face his posture, man?' 
 Thou saw'st him in the fray ? 
 
 His eye what wore he ? " But the Moor 
 Sought in his vest awhile. 
 
 " 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.
 
 i88 tSElje %tf)tik of Sinai. 
 
 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 old man took the golden coin : 
 
 Gazed steadfastly awhile, 
 Jf 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 his brow 
 
 Another face is there : 
 I never saw this man before 
 His head is like a pear ! 
 Take back thy medal, Moor 'tis not 
 That which I hoped to see."
 
 EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE 
 KANARIS. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF \\1LHELM MOLLER. 
 
 I AM Constantine Kanaris : 
 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 came. 
 
 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 earth again !
 
 THE REFUSAL OF CHARON* 
 
 FROM THE ROMAIC. 
 
 WHY look the distant mountains 
 
 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 old and young imploring him 
 
 To grant some brief delay. 
 
 " O Charon ! halt, we pray thee, 
 
 Beside some little town, 
 Or near some sparkling fountain, 
 
 Where the waters wimple down ! 
 The old will drink and be refreshed, 
 
 The young the disc will fling, 
 And the tender little children 
 
 Pluck flowers beside the spring." 
 
 * According to the superstition of the modern Greeks, 
 Charon performs the function which their ancestors 
 assigned to Hermes, of conducting the souls of the 
 dead to the other world. 
 
 190
 
 Cfje &efu*al of (tTjaron. 191 
 
 " 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." 
 
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