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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.

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 forbore 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 Dunedin's streets, had pealed the slogan-cry.
Not all their troops of trampling horse, nor might of mailed 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 name I bear,
And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross that waves above us there,-
Yea, by a greater, mightier oath, and O, 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 fathers' 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; 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 checks 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!

28. PEACE AND WAR.-Percy Bysshe Shelley. Born, 1792; died, 1822

How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear

Were discord to the speaking quietude

That wraps this moveless scene.

Heaven's ebon vault,

Studded with stars unutterably bright,

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
Above the sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
Robed in a garment of untrodden snow;
Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend,
So stainless that their white and glittering spires
Tinge not the moon's pure beam; yon castled steep,
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly that rapt fancy deemeth it

A metaphor of peace ;

- all form a scene

Where musing solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness;
Where silence undisturbed might watch alone,
So cold, so bright, so still:

Ah! whence yon glare

That fires the arch of Heaven?

that dark red smoke

Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched
In darkness, and the pure and spangling snow
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round!
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals
In countless echoes through the mountains ring,
Startling pale midnight on her starry throne!
Now swells the intermingling din; the jar,
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb;
The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout.
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men

Inebriate with rage!

Loud and more loud

The discord grows; till pale Death shuts the scene,
And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws
His coin and bloody shroud!

The sulphurous smoke

Before the icy wind slow rolls away,

And the bright beams of frosty morning dance
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood,
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms,
And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path
Of the out-sallying victors: far behind

Black ashes note where their proud city stood.
Within yon forest is a gloomy glen;

Each tree which guards its darkness from the day
Waves o'er a warrior's tomb!

AMERICA TC GREAT BRITAIN. — Washington Allston. Born, 1779; died, 1848

ALL hail thou noble land,

Our fathers' native soil!
O, stretch thy mighty hand,
Gigantic grown by toil,

O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore:

For thou, with magic might,

Canst reach to where the light
Of Phoebus travels bright,

The world o'er!

The Genius of our clime,

From his pine-embattled steep,
Shall hail the great sublime;

While the Tritons of the deep

With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim.
Then let the world combine!

O'er the main our naval line,
Like the milky way, shall shine
Bright in fame!

Though ages long have passed

Since our fathers left their home,

Their pilot in the blast,

O'er untravelled seas to roam,

Yet lives the blood of England in our veins.

And shall we not proclaim

That blood of honest fame,
Which no tyranny can tame
By its chains?

While the language, free and bold,
Which the bard of Avon sung,
In which our Milton told

How the vault of Heaven rung,

When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host; -
While this, with reverence meet,
Ten thousand echoes greet,

From rock to rock repeat

Round our coast;

While the manners, while the arts,

That mould a Nation's soul,

Still cling around our hearts,
Between let ocean roll,

Our joint communion breaking with the sun :
Yet, still, from either beach,

The voice of blood shall reach,
More audible than speech,
"We are One!"

30. OLD IRONSIDES.-Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Written when it was proposed to break up the frigate Constitution, or to convert her into a receiving ship, as unfit for service.

Av, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see that banner in the sky;
Beneath it rang the battle-shout, and burst the cannon's roar ;
The meteor of the ocean air shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, where knelt the vanquished fœe,

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, and waves were white

beow,

No more shall feel the victor's tread, or know the conquered knee;
The harpies of the shore shall pluck the eagle of the sea'

O, better that her shattered hulk should sink beneath the wave!
Her thunde's shook the mighty deep, and there should be her grave!
Nail to the nast her holy flag, set every threadbare sail,

And give her to the god of storms, the lightning and the gale!

--

81. THE BAL AT BRUSSELS, THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO, JUNE 17, 1815.-Lord Byron.

TIERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
He Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men:
A housand hearts beat happily; and when

Music arose, with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell.

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knel

Did ye not hear it? No; 't was but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined,
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet!
But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before!

Arm! arm! it is it is the cannon's opening roar !

Within a windowed niche of that high hall

Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain. He did hear
That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear;
And when they smiled because he deemed it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well,
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell.
He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated. Who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb,
Or whispering, with white lips

come!"

"The foe' They cme They

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life;
Last eve, in Beauty's circle, proudly gay;

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife
The morn, the marshalling in arms; the day,
Battle's magnificently stern array!

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