Either we shall rest in triumph, Or another of the Græmes Shall have died in battle-harness For his Country and King James! Think upon the Royal Martyr Think of what his race endureThink on him whom butchers murdered On the field of Magus Muir :By his sacred blood I charge ye, By the ruin'd hearth and shrineBy the blighted hopes of Scotland, By your injuries and mineStrike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while, Be they Covenanting traitors, Or the brood of false Argyle! How they fared within the North. Search for him that was Dundee !' Loudly then the hills re-echoed But a deeper echo sounded Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 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 armèd men ! Swept the hurricane of steel, Horse and man went down like drift-wood Horse and man went down before us- When the stubborn fight was done! And the evening star was shining Stretched upon the cumbered plain, In the thickest of the slain. And the clansmen's clamorous cheer: Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, In the glory of his manhood Passed the spirit of the Græme! 70 80 90 100 THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE (21 MAY 1650) THEY brought him to the Watergate, Then, as a hound is slipped from leash, It would have made a brave man's heart To watch the keen malignant eyes There stood the Whig west-country lords 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! 20 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 forebore 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 turned aside and wept. Had I been there with sword in hand, That day through high Dunedin's streets, 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 Or I, and all who bore my name, The morning dawned full darkly, And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt The heavens were thundering out their wrath, Yet ever sounded sullenly The trumpet and the drum. There was madness on the earth below, And young and old, and rich and poor, 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! One last long peal of thunder The clouds are cleared away, And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day. See also THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. BALLAD BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBY [Lord Willoughby d Eresby succeeded Lord Leicester in command of the English forces in the United Provinces after the siege of Zutphen, 1586.] THE fifteenth of July, With glistening spear and shield, Were English captains three, From field would never flee. With fifteen hundred fighting men- They fought with fourteen thousand men 'Stand to it, noble pikemen, And look you round about! And then the bloody enemy And fought it out most furiously, The wounded men on both sides fell, The fight endured sore, That they could fight no more. Full savoury they ate, They kneeled on the ground, For the favour they had found; And beating up their colours, The sharp steel-pointed arrows Charge on most furiously; They feared the stout behaviour And then the fearful enemy This news was brought to England, And soon our gracious Queen was told, 'O this is brave Lord Willoughby, My love that ever won; Of all the Lords of honour 'Tis he great deeds hath done.' To the soldiers that were maimèd 50 60 70 See also SIR PATRICK SPENS. 10 20 30 GEORGE H. BOKER (1823-1890) THE BLACK REGIMENT PORT HUDSON, 27 May 1863 DARK as the clouds of even Down the long dusky line Told them their time had come,· 'Now!' the flag-sergeant cried,- Free in this land; or bound 'Charge!' Trump and drum awoke, Through the wild battle's crush, In the guns' mouths they laugh; Or at the slippery brands All their eyes forward bent, 'Freedom!' their battle-cry,— Rolled in triumphant blood: Glad to breathe one free breath, This was what 'Freedom' lent Hundreds on hundreds fell, See also ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796) A MAN'S A MAN FOR A THAT EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 10 EDWARD E. BOWEN AN EPISODE OF BALACLAVA In the confusion attending the Charge of the Light Brigade, Lockwood mistook the words, passed on,' and galloped alone after Lord Cardigan and his Brigade.] WHEN slow and faint from off the plain, And marvelled as they came; Dared any, while with corpses rife Red gleamed the ghastly track, Ride, for the love of more than life, Into the valley back? Pierce, where the bravest tarried not, Stand, where the strongest fell, Face once again the surge of shot, The plunging hail of shell? [He trod of old the hill* we tread, When next the stranger scans the wall He sought his chief—a dim reply • Harrow Hill. Lockwood was an old Harrovian. No question more; in purpose clear He turned his horse's bridle round, Up, slow, the homeward remnant fled, Alone, unrecked in heat of fray, He stemmed the wave of flight, So ends the story; comrade none Alone, the pain, the chill, the dread, O Soldier of a bloodless strife, O friends in work and play, I take the tale of Lockwood's death, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan, He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, 3C 40 50 60 ΤΟ |