'Tis gone!-Again on tombs defaced Sits darkness more profound; And only by the torch we traced The shadows on the ground. And now the chilling, freezing air Without blew long and loud; Upon our knees we breathed one prayer, Where he slept in his shroud. We laid the broken marble floor,— WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS IN- CAPTAIN, or colonel, or knight in arms, may seize, If deed of honor did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee; for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground; and the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. JOHN MILTON. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. COME hither, Evan Cameron! Come, stand behind my knee I hear the river roaring down There's shouting on the mountain-side, Old forms go trooping past. 'Twas I that led the Highland host Through wild Lochaber's snows, I've told thee how we swept Dundee, How the great Marquis died. A traitor sold him to his foes; O deed of deathless shame! I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet Or back'd by armed men- They brought him to the Watergate, The hangman rode below- And bared his noble brow. Then, as a hound is slipp'd from leash, They cheer'd 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 There stood the Whig west-country lords In balcony and bow; But onward-always onward, In silence and in gloom, Till it reach'd the house of doom. From the heart of the tossing crowd: Of him who sold his king for gold- The Marquis gazed a moment, And nothing did he say, She shook through every limb, "Back, coward, from thy place! Had I been there with sword in hand, That day through high Dunedin's streets Not all their troops of trampling horse, There sat their gaunt and wither'd dames, Not all the rebels in the south And their daughters all a-row. And every open window Was full as full might be With black-robed Covenanting carles, But when he came, though pale and wan, So calm his steadfast eye;- And each man held his breath, Had borne us backward then! Once more his foot on Highland heath Had trod as free as air, Or I, and all who bore my name, It might not be. They placed him next Where once the Scottish kings were throned Amidst their nobles all. But there was dust of vulgar feet On that polluted floor, "Now, by my faith as belted knight And by the name I bear, And by the bright St. Andrew's cross That waves above us thereYea, by a greater, mightier oathAnd oh that such should be!By that dark stream of royal blood That lies 'twixt you and meI have not sought in battle-field A wreath of such renown, Nor dared I hope on my dying day "There is a chamber far away Where sleep the good and brave, But a better place ye have named for me Than by my fathers' grave. 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 walk'd to battle More proudly than to die; There was color in his visage, Though the cheeks of all were wan, And they marvell'd as they saw him pass, That great and goodly man! He mounted up the scaffold, And he turn'd him to the crowd; But they dared not trust the people, So he might not speak aloud; For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, But he look'd upon the heavens, 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 dawn'd full darkly, The rain came flashing down, The thunder crash'd across the heaven, And anger in the sky, And young and old, and rich and poor, Came forth to see him die. 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"He is coming! he is coming! God's mercy on his soul!" One last long peal of thunder The clouds are clear'd away, And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day. 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 withinAll 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. He would not deign them word nor sign, But alone he bent the knee; And veil'd 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, As it were the path to heaven. WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN. THE BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE. To the lords of convention 'twas Claverhouse who spoke, "Ere the king's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; So let each cavalier who loves honor and me Come follow the bonnets of bonnie Dundee!" Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, With sour-featured Whigs the Grassmarket was thrang'd As if half the west had set tryst to be hang'd; There was spite in each look, there was fear in each ee, As they watch'd for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! And it's room for the bonnets of These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and bonnie Dundee ! had spears, And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers; Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the But they shrunk to close-heads, and the street, causeway was free The bells are rung backward, the drums At the toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dun they are beat; But the provost, douce man, said, "Just e'en let him be, The gude toun is well quit of that de'il of Dundee !" Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! As he rode doun the sanctified bends of the Bow dee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! He spurr'd to the foot of the proud castle rock, And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke: "Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or three, Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her For the love of the bonnet of bonnie Dun "There are hills beyond Pentland and Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Clermis If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's Died away the wild war-notes of bonnie chiefs in the north; There are wild Duniewassals three thou sand times three Will cry 'Hoigh!' for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! "There's brass on the target of barken'd bull-hide, There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside; The brass shall be burnish'd, the steel shall flash free, At a toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, Dundee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle the horses, and call up the men; Come open your doors and let me gae free, For it's up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE BURIAL-MARCH OF Dundee. SOUND 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 with us to-day; Never since the valiant Douglas On his dauntless bosom bore And it's room for the bonnets of Good King Robert's heart-the priceless bonnie Dundee ! "Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks; Ere I own an usurper I'll couch with the fox; And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee, To our dear Redeemer's shore ! Lo! we bring with us the heroLo! we bring the conquering Græme, Crown'd as best beseems a victor From the altar of his fame; Fresh and bleeding from the battle Whence his spirit took its flight, You have not seen the last of my bonnet Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, and me." And the thunder of the fight! |