Through the streets the death-word rushes, Spreading terror, sweeping on.

"Jesu Christ! our King has fallen

O Great God, King James is gone!
Holy Mother Mary, shield us,

Thou who erst didst lose thy Son!
O the blackest day for Scotland
That she ever knew before !
O our King the good, the noble,
Shall we see him never more?

Woe to us, and woe to Scotland !
O our sons, our sons and men !
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron,
Surely some will come again!"
Till the oak that fell last winter

Shall uprear its shattered stem,
Wives and mothers of Dunedin -

Ye may look in vain for them!

But within the Council Chamber
All was silent as the grave,
Whilst the tempest of their sorrow
Shook the bosoms of the brave.
Well indeed might they be shaken
With the weight of such a blow;
He was gone their prince, their idol,
Whom they loved and worshipped so!

Like a knell of death and judgment,
Rung from heaven by angel hand,
Fell the words of desolation

On the elders of the land.

Hoary heads were bowed and trembling ; Withered hands were clasped and wrung;

God had left the old and feeble,

He had ta'en away the young.

Then the Provost he uprose,

And his lip was ashen white;
But a flush was on his brow,

And his eye was full of light.
"Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray,
Like a soldier stout and true;
Thou hast done a deed of daring
Had been perilled but by few.
For thou hast not shamed to face us,
Nor to speak thy ghastly tale,
Standing thou a knight and captain—

Here, alive within thy mail!

Now, as my God shall judge me,

I hold it braver done,

Than hadst thou tarried in thy place,

And died above my son !

Thou need'st not tell it: he is dead.

God help us all this day!

But speak-how fought the citizens Within the furious fray?

For, by the might of Mary,

'T were something still to tell, That no Scottish foot went backward When the Royal Lion fell!"

"No one failed him! He is keeping
Royal state and semblance still;
Knight and noble lie around him,
Cold on Flodden's fatal hill.
Of the brave and gallant-hearted,
Whom ye sent with prayers away,
Not a single man departed

From his Monarch yesterday.
Had you seen them, O my masters!
When the night began to fall,
And the English spearmen gathered
Round a grim and ghastly wall!
As the wolves in winter circle

Round the leaguer on the heath, So the greedy foe glared upward, Panting still for blood and death. But a rampart rose before them, Which the boldest dare not scale :

Every stone a Scottish body,

Every step a corpse in mail!

And behind it lay our Monarch,
Clenching still his shivered sword;
By his side Montrose and Athole,
At his feet a Southron lord.
All so thick they lay together,
When the stars lit up the sky,
That I knew not who were stricken,
Or who yet remained to die.

Few there were when Surrey halted,
And his wearied host withdrew ;
None but dying men around me,
When the English trumpet blew.
Then I stooped and took the banner,
As you see it from his breast,
And I closed our hero's eyelids

And I left him to his rest.

In the mountains growled the thunder,
As I leaped the woful wall,

And the heavy clouds were settling

Over Flodden like a pall.

WM. E. AYTOUN.

BORDER BALLAD.

SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,

Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,

All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Many a banner spread

Flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story;

Mount and make ready then,

Sons of the mountain glen,

Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory.

Come from the hills where the hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding,

War-steeds are bounding,

Stand to your arms then, and march in good order; England shall many a day

Tell of the bloody fray,

When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border!

SIR WALTER SCOTT.