2

'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 Lindsays' pride;
But never have I told thee yet
How the great Marquis died.

3

A traitor sold him to his foes;
O deed of deathless shame!

I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet
With one of Assynt's name—

Be it upon the mountain's side,
Or yet within the glen,

Stand he in martial gear alone,

Or backed by arméd 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!

4

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.

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5

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,

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There sat their gaunt and withered dames, 55 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!

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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;-

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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.

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Till it reached 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: 80

Then, as the Graeme looked upwards,

He saw the ugly smile

Of him who sold his king for gold—
The master-fiend Argyle!

οα

8

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!

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For seven long years thou hast not dared 95 To look him in the face.'

9

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 mailéd men-

Not all the rebels in 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!

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It might not be. They placed him next
Within the solemn hall,

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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.

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11

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-
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!

12

There is a chamber far away

Where sleep the good and brave,

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But a better place ye have named for me 135 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!

13

The morning dawned full darkly,

The rain came flashing down,

And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt
Lit up the gloomy town:

The thunder crashed across the heaven,
The fatal hour was come;

The 'larum of the drum.

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Yet ay broke in with muffled beat

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.

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14

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 cleared away,

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And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day.

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'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 !

16

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.

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