Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim.
And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
He halts, and turns with clenchèd hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,

And shakes his gauntlet at the towers.

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

WILLIAM EDMONDSTONE AYTOUN.

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!

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 armèd

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. 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.

Had I been there, with sword in hand, and fifty Camerons by,

That day, through high Dunédin's streets had pealed the slogan cry.

Not all their troops of trampling horse, nor might of mailèd 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!

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 Warriston, 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 nåme

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 hoped I 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've 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

a limb

And God, who made, shall gather them;

to Him!"

give every town

I go from you

The morning dawned full darkly; 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 color in his visage, though the cheeks of all were wan,

And they marvelled as they saw him pass, that great and goodly man.

Then radiant and serene he stood, and cast his cloak

away,

For he had ta'en his latest look of earth, and sun, and

day.

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.

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 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!

BORDER BALLAD.

WALTER SCOTT.

MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale;

Why the de'il dinna ye march forward in order?

March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale!

All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!
Many a banner spread

Flutters above your head,