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Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth stretch'd,
His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twitch'd,
While the tongue falters, as to utterance loth,
Sounds of dire import-watchword, threat, and oath.
Though, stupified by toil, and drugg'd with gin,
The body sleep, the restless guest within
Now plies on wood and wold his lawless trade,
Now in the fangs of justice wakes dismay'd.—

"Was that wild start of terror and despair, Those bursting eyeballs, and that wilder'd air, Signs of compunction for a murder'd hare? Do the locks bristle and the eyebrows arch, For grouse or partridge massacred in March?"—

No, scoffer, no! Attend, and mark with awe,
There is no wicket in the gate of law!
He, that would e'er so lightly set ajar

That awful portal, must undo each bar:
Tempting occasion, habit, passion, pride,

The bittern's sullen shout the sedges shook!
The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam,
Now gave and now withheld her doubtful beam;
The old Oak stoop'd his arms, then flung them high,
Bellowing and groaning to the troubled sky-
'Twas then, that, couch'd amid the brushwood sere,
In Malwood-walk young Mansell watch'd the deer:
The fattest buck received his deadly shot-
The watchful keeper heard, and sought the spot.
Stout were their hearts, and stubborn was their strife
O'erpower'd at length the Outlaw drew his knife.
Next morn a corpse was found upon the fell-
The rest his waking agony may tell!

Sang.

OH, say not, my love, witn that mortified air, That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,

Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,

wide.

That ruffian, whom true men avoid and dread, Whom bruisers, poachers, smugglers, call Black Ned, Was Edward Mansell once;-the lightest heart, That ever play'd on holiday his part! The leader he in every Christmas game, The harvest-feast grew blither when he came, And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance, When Edward named the tune and led the dance. Kind was his heart, his passions quick and strong, Hearty his laugh, and jovial was his song; And if he loved a gun, his father swore, ""Twas but a trick of youth would soon be o'er, Himself had done the same some thirty years before."

But he whose humours spurn law's awful yoke,
Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke,
The common dread of justice soon allies
The clown, who robs the warren, or excise,
With sterner felons train'd to act more dread,
Even with the wretch by whom his fellow bled.
Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass,
Leavening and festering the corrupted mass,—
Guilt leagues with guilt, while mutual motives draw,
Their hope impunity, their fear the law;

Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same,
Till the revenue baulk'd, or pilfer'd game,
Flesh the young culprit, and example leads
To darker villany, and direr deeds.

Wild howl'd the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renew'd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Red William's spectre walk'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook

1 This song was written shortly after the battle of Badajos, April, 1812,) for a Yeomanry Cavalry dinner. It was first

For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine, Its tendrils in infancy curl'd,

'Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine, Whose life-blood enlivens the world.

Though thy form, that was fashion'd as light as a fay's,

Has assumed a proportion more round, And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze Looks soberly now on the ground,

Enough, after absence to meet me again,
Thy steps still with ecstasy move;
Enough, that those dear sober glances retain
For me the kind language of love.

The Bold Bragoon;1

OR,

THE PLAIN OF BADAJOS.

1812.

"TWAS a Maréchal of France, and he fain would honour gain,

And he long'd to take a passing glance at Portugal from Spain;

With his flying guns this gallant gay,

And boasted corps d'armée

O he fear'd not our dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

printed in Mr. George Thomson's Collection of Select Melo dies, and stands in vol. vi. of the last edition of that work.

fo Campo Mayor come, he had quietly sat down,
Just a fricassee to pick, while his soldiers sack'd the
town,

When, 'twas peste! morbleu! mon General,
Hear the English bugle-call!

King William III. in Scotland. In the August preceding, a proclamation had been issued, offering an indemnity to such insurgents as should take the oaths to the King and Queen, on or before the last day of December; and the chiefs of such tribes as had been

And behold the light dragoons, with their long swords, in arms for James, soon after took advantage of the

boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Right about went horse and foot, artillery and all, And, as the devil leaves a house, they tumbled through the wall;1

They took no time to seek the door,

But, best foot set before

proclamation. But Macdonald of Glencoe was prevented by accident, rather than by design, from tendering his submission within the limited time. In the end of December he went to Colonel Hill, who commanded the garrison in Fort-William, to take the oaths of allegiance to the government; and the latter having furnished him with a letter to Sir Colin Campbell, sheriff of the county of Argyll, directed him to

O they ran from our dragoons, with their long swords, repair immediately to Inverary, to make his submisboldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

sion in a legal manner before that magistrate. But the way to Inverary lay through almost impassable mountains, the season was extremely rigorous, and

Those valiant men of France they had scarcely fled a the whole country was covered with a deep snow. So mile, eager, however, was Macdonald to take the oaths beWhen on their flank there sous'd at once the British fore the limited time should expire, that, though the rank and file;

For Long, De Grey, and Otway, then

Ne'er minded one to ten,

road lay within half a mile of his own house, he stopped not to visit his family, and, after various obstructions, arrived at Inverary. The time had elapsed, and

But came on like light dragoons, with their long swords, the sheriff hesitated to receive his submission; but boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Macdonald prevailed by his importunities, and even tears, in inducing that functionary to administer to him the oath of allegiance, and to certify the cause of

wards Earl of Stair, being in attendance upon Wil

Three hundred British lads they made three thousand his delay. At this time Sir John Dalrymple, afterreel, Their hearts were made of English oak, their swords liam as Secretary of State for Scotland, took advanof Sheffield steel,

Their horses were in Yorkshire bred,

And Beresford them led;

tage of Macdonald's neglecting to take the oath within the time prescribed, and procured from the king a warrant of military execution against that chief and

So huzza for brave dragoons, with their long swords, his whole clan. This was done at the instigation of boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

the Earl of Breadalbane, whose lands the Glencoe men had plundered, and whose treachery to government in negotiating with the Highland clans, Mac

Then here's a health to Wellington, to Beresford, to donald himself had exposed. The King was accordLong,

ingly persuaded that Glencoe was the main obstacle And a single word of Bonaparte before I close my song: to the pacification of the Highlands; and the fact of The eagles that to fight he brings Should serve his men with wings,

the unfortunate chief's submission having been concealed, the sanguinary orders for proceeding to mili

When they meet the bold dragoons, with their long tary execution against his clan were in consequence

swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

On the Massacre of Glencoe.

1814.

"In the beginning of the year 1692, an action of unexampled barbarity disgraced the government of

In their hasty evacuation of Campo Mayor, the French pulled down a part of the rampart, and marched out over the glacis.

• First published in Thomson's Select Melodies, 1814.

obtained. The warrant was both signed and countersigned by the King's own hand, and the Secretary urged the officers who commanded in the Highlands to execute their orders with the utmost rigour. Campbell of Glenlyon, a captain in Argyle's regiment, and two subalterns, were ordered to repair to Glencoe on the first of February with a hundred and twenty men. Campbell, being uncle to young Mac. donald's wife, was received by the father with all man. ner of friendship and hospitality. The men were lodged at free quarters in the houses of his tenants,

and received the kindest entertainment. Till the 13th of the month the troops lived in the utmost harmony and familiarity with the people; and on the very night of the massacre the officers passed the evening at cards in Macdonald's house. In the night, Lieu

tenant Lindsay, with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly manner at his door, and was instantly admitted. Macdonald, while in the act of rising to receive his guest, was shot dead through the back with two bullets. His wife had already dressed; but she was stripped naked by the soldiers, who tore the rings off her fingers with their teeth. The slaughter now became general, and neither age nor infirmity was spared. Some women, in defending their children, were killed; boys imploring mercy, were shot dead by officers on whose knees they hung. In one place nine persons, as they sat enjoying themselves at table, were butchered by the soldiers. In Inverriggon, Campbell's own quarters, nine men were first bound by the soldiers, and then shot at intervals, one by one. Nearly forty persons were massacred by the troops; and several who fled to the mountains perished by famine and the inclemency of the season. Those who escaped owed their lives to a tempestuous night. Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, who had received the charge of the execution from Dalrymple, was on his march with four hundred men, to guard all the passes from the valley of Glencoe; but he was obliged to stop by the severity of the weather, which proved the safety of the unfortunate clan. Next day he entered the valley, laid the houses in ashes, and carried away the cattle and spoil, which were divided among the officers and soldiers."-Article "BRITAIN;" Encyc. Britannica-New Edition.

And gave the host's kind breast to feel
Meed for his hospitality!

The friendly hearth which warm'd that hand,
At midnight arm'd it with the brand,
That bade destruction's flames expand
Their red and fearful blazonry.

"Then woman's shriek was heard in vain, Nor infancy's unpitied plain, More than the warrior's groan, could gain

Respite from ruthless butchery! The winter wind that whistled shrill, The snows that night that cloked the hill, Though wild and pitiless, had still

Far more than Southern clemency.

66 Long have my harp's best notes been gone, Few are its strings, and faint their tone, They can but sound in desert lone

Their grey-hair'd master's misery.
Were each grey hair a minstrel string,
Each chord should imprecations fling,
Till startled Scotland loud should ring,
"Revenge for blood and treachery!""

For a' that an' a' that..

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.

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1 "On the 30th of July, 1814, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Erskine, and Mr. Duff, Commissioners, along with Mr. (now Sir) Walter Scott, and the writer, visited the Lighthouse; the Commissioners being then on one of their voyages of Inspection, noticed in the Introduction. They breakfasted in the Library, when Sir Walter, at the entreaty of the party, upon inscribing his name in the Album, added these interesting linea"-STEVENSON'S Account of the Bell-Rock Lighthouse.

He may plough it with labour, and sow it in sorroW, And sigh while he fears he has sow'd it in vain; He may die ere his children shall reap in their glad.

ness,

But the blithe harvest-home shall remember his claim;

And their jubilee-shout shall be soften'd with sadness, While they hallow the goblet that flows to his name.

Though anxious and timeless his life was expended,
In toils for our country preserved by his care,
Though he died ere one ray o'er the nations ascended,
To light the long darkness of doubt and despair;
The storms he endured in our Britain's December,
The perils his wisdom foresaw and o'ercame,
In her glory's rich harvest snall Britain remember,
And hallow the goblet that flows to his name.

Nor forget His grey head, who, all dark in affliction,
Is deaf to the tale of our victories won,
And to sounds the most dear to paternal affection,
The shout of his people applauding his Son;
By his firmness unmoved in success and disaster,

By his long reign of virtue, remember his claim! With our tribute to PITT join the praise of his Master Though a tear stain the goblet that flows to his

name.

Yet again fill the wine-cup, and change the sad mea

sure,

The rites of our grief and our gratitude paid, To our Prince, to our Heroes, devote the bright trea

sure,

The wisdom that plann'd, and the zeal that obey'd Fill WELLINGTON's cup till it beam like his glory, Forget not our own brave DALHOUSIE and GREME; A thousand years hence hearts shall bound at their story,

And hallow the goblet that flows to their fame.

Pharos Loquitur.'

FAR in the bosom of the deep,

O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep}

A ruddy gem of changeful light,
Bound on the dusky brow of night,
The seaman bids my lustre hail,

And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

1824. Scott's Diary of the Voyage is now published in the 4th volume of his Life.

1 The late Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate, long Sheriff. Depute of Lanarkshire, and afterwards one of the Principal Clerks of Session in Scotland-died in 1831.

2 Afterwards Lord Kinnedder.

8 The late Adam Duff, Esq. Sheriff-Depute of the county of Edinburgh.

Lines,1

Health from the land where eddying whiriwuds
The storm-rock'd cradle of the Cape of Noss;

A DDRIIGED TO BANALD MACDONALD, ESQ. OF STAFFA. On outstretch'd cords the giddy engine slides,

1814.

STAFFA, sprung from high Macdonald,
Worthy branch of old Clan-Ranald!
Staffa! king of all kind fellows!
Well befall thy hills and valleys,
Lakes and inlets, deeps and shallows-
Cliffs of darkness, caves of wonder,
Echoing the Atlantic thunder;
Mountains which the grey mist covers,
Where the Chieftain spirit hovers,
Pausing while his pinions quiver,
Stretch'd to quit our land for ever!
Each kind influence reign above thee!
Warmer heart, 'twixt this and Staffa
Beats not, than in heart of Staffa!

Letter in Werse

ON THE VOYAGE WITH THE COMMISSIONERS OF
NORTHERN LIGHTS.

"OF the letters which Scott wrote to his friends during those happy six weeks, I have recovered only one, and it is, thanks to the leisure of the yacht, in verse. The strong and easy heroics of the first section prove, I think, that Mr. Canning did not err when he told him that if he chose he might emulate even Dryden's command of that noble measure; and the dancing anapasts of the second, show that he could with equal facility have rivalled the gay graces of Cotton, Anstey, or Moore."-LOCKHART, Life, vol. iv., p. 372.

His own strong arm the bold adventurer guides,
And he that lists such desperate feat to try,
May, like the sea-mew, skim 'twixt surf and sky,
And feel the mid-air gales around him blow,
And see the billows rage five hundred feet below.

Here, by each stormy peak and desert shore,
The hardy islesman tugs the daring oar,
Practised alike his venturous course to keep,
Through the white breakers or the pathless deep,
By ceaseless peril and by toil to gain

A wretched pittance from the niggard main.
And when the worn-out drudge old ocean leaves,
What comfort greets him, and what hut receives?!
Lady! the worst your presence ere has cheer'd
(When want and sorrow fled as you appear'd)
Were to a Zetlander as the high dome
Of proud Drumlanrig to my humble home.
Here rise no groves, and here no gardens blow,
Here even the hardy heath scarce dares to grow;
But rocks on rocks, in mist and storm array'd,
Stretch far to sea their giant colonnade,
With many a cavern seam'd, the dreary haunt
Of the dun seal and swarthy cormorant.
Wild round their rifted brows, with frequent cry
As of lament, the gulls and gannets fly,
And from their sable base, with sullen sound,
In sheets of whitening foam the waves rebound.

Yet even these coasts a touch of envy gain
From those whose land has known oppression's chain;
For here the industrious Dutchman comes once more
To moor his fishing craft by Bressay's shore;
Greets every former mate and brother tar,
Marvels how Lerwick 'scaped the rage of war,
Tells many a tale of Gallic outrage done,
And ends by blessing God and Wellington.
Here too the Greenland tar, a fiercer guest,
Claims a brief hour of riot, not of rest;

TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH, Proves each wild frolic that in wine has birth,

&c. &c. &c.

Lighthouse Yacht in the Sound of Lerwick,
Zetland, 8th August 1814..

HEALTH to the chieftain from his clansman true!
From her true minstrel, health to fair Buccleuch !
Health from the isles, where dewy Morning weaves
Her chaplet with the tints that Twilight leaves;
Where late the sun scarce vanish'd from the sight,
And his bright pathway graced the short-lived night,
Though darker now as autumn's shades extend,
The north winds whistle and the mists ascend !

And wakes the land with brawls and boisterous mirth.
A sadder sight on yon poor vessel's prow
The captive Norseman sits in silent woe,
And eyes the flags of Britain as they flow.
Hard fate of war, which bade her terrors sway
His destined course, and seize so mean a prey;
A bark with planks so warp'd and seams so riven,
She scarce might face the gentlest airs of heaven:
Pensive he sits, and questions oft if none
Can list his speech, and understand his moan;
In vain-no Islesman now can use the tongue
Of the bold Norse, from whom their lineage sprung.

I These lines were written in the Album, kept at the Sound 1838, in his 61st year. The reader will find a warm tribute to of Ulva Inn, in the month of August, 1814.

• Afterwards Sir Reginald Macdonald Stewart Seton of Staffa. Allauton, and Touch, Baronet. He died 16th April

Staffa's character as a Highland landlord, in Scott's article on
Sir John Carr's Caledonian Sketches.-Miscellaneous Proce
Works, vol. xix.

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