Heart-whole we'll part, and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land;

Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus weepe and puling crye;
Our business is like men to fight,

And hero-like to die.

M

WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.

I

M

Montrose

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.

1650.

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 Lindsays' 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.
They set him high upon a cart

The hangman rode below