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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538112" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Execution Of Montrose</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">COME hither, Evan Cameron! <br> Come, stand beside my knee: <br>I hear the river roaring down <br> Towards the wintry sea. <br>There ’s shouting on the mountain-side, <br> There ’s war within the blast; <br>Old faces look upon me, <br> Old forms go trooping past: <br>I hear the pibroch wailing <br> Amidst the din of fight, <br>And my dim spirit wakes again <br> Upon the verge of night. <br> <br>’T was I that led the Highland host <br> Through wild Lochaber’s snows, <br>What time the plaided clans came down <br> To battle with Montrose. <br>I ’ve told thee how the Southrons fell <br> Beneath the broad claymore, <br>And how we smote the Campbell clan <br> By Inverlochy’s shore.<br>I ’ve told thee how we swept Dundee, <br> And tam’d the Lindsays’ pride; <br>But never have I told thee yet <br> How the great Marquis died. <br> <br>A traitor sold him to his foes;<br> O deed of deathless shame! <br>I charge thee, boy, if e’er thou meet <br> With one of Assynt’s name— <br>Be it upon the mountain’s side, <br> Or yet within the glen, <br>Stand he in martial gear alone, <br> Or back’d by armed men— <br>Face him, as thou wouldst face the man <br> Who wrong’d thy sire’s renown; <br>Remember of what blood thou art, <br> And strike the caitiff down! <br> <br>They brought him to the Watergate, <br> Hard bound with hempen span, <br>As though they held a lion there, <br> And not a fenceless man. <br>They set him high upon a cart, <br> The hangman rode below, <br>They drew his hands behind his back <br> And bar’d his noble brow. <br>Then, as a hound is slipp’d from leash,<br> They cheer’d the common throng, <br>And blew the note with yell and shout <br> And bade him pass along. <br> <br>It would have made a brave man’s heart <br> Grow sad and sick that day, <br>To watch the keen malignant eyes <br> Bent down on that array. <br>There stood the Whig west-country lords, <br> In balcony and bow; <br>There sat their gaunt and wither’d dames, <br> And their daughters all a-row. <br>And every open window <br> Was full as full might be <br>With black-rob’d Covenanting carles, <br> That goodly sport to see!<br> <br>But when he came, though pale and wan, <br> He look’d so great and high, <br>So noble was his manly front, <br> So calm his steadfast eye, <br>The rabble rout forbore to shout,<br> And each man held his breath, <br>For well they knew the hero’s soul <br> Was face to face with death. <br>And then a mournful shudder <br> Through all the people crept, <br>And some that came to scoff at him <br> Now turn’d aside and wept. <br> <br>But onwards—always onwards, <br> In silence and in gloom, <br>The dreary pageant labor’d, <br> Till it reach’d the house of doom. <br>Then first a woman’s voice was heard <br> In jeer and laughter loud, <br>And an angry cry and a hiss arose <br> From the heart of the tossing crowd:<br>Then as the Graeme look’d upwards, <br> He saw the ugly smile <br>Of him who sold his king for gold, <br> The master-fiend Argyle! <br> <br>The Marquis gaz’d a moment,<br> And nothing did he say, <br>But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale <br> And he turn’d his eyes away. <br>The painted harlot by his side, <br> She shook through every limb,<br>For a roar like thunder swept the street, <br> And hands were clench’d at him; <br>And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, <br> “Back, coward, from thy place! <br>For seven long years thou hast not dar’d <br> To look him in the face.” <br> <br>Had I been there with sword in hand, <br> And fifty Camerons by, <br>That day through high Dunedin’s streets <br> Had peal’d the slogan-cry.<br>Not all their troops of trampling horse, <br> Nor might of mailed men, <br>Not all the rebels in the south <br> Had borne us backwards then! <br>Once more his foot on Highland heath<br> Had trod as free as air, <br>Or I, and all who bore my name, <br> Been laid around him there! <br> <br>It might not be. They placed him next <br> Within the solemn hall,<br>Where once the Scottish kings were thron’d <br> Amidst their nobles all. <br>But there was dust of vulgar feet <br> On that polluted floor, <br>And perju’d traitors fill’d the place <br> Where good men sate before. <br>With savage glee came Warristoun <br> To read the murderous doom; <br>And then uprose the great Montrose <br> In the middle of the room. <br> <br>“Now, by my faith as belted knight, <br> And by the name I bear, <br>And by the bright Saint Andrew’s cross <br> That waves above us there, <br>Yea, by a greater, mightier oath— <br> And oh, that such should be! <br>By that dark stream of royal blood <br> That lies ’twixt you and me, <br>I have not sought in battle-field <br> A wreath of such renown,<br>Nor dar’d I hope on my dying day <br> To win the martyr’s crown! <br> <br>“There is a chamber far away <br> Where sleep the good and brave, <br>But a better place ye have nam’d for me<br> Than by my father’s grave. <br>For truth and right, ’gainst treason’s might, <br> This hand hath always striven, <br>And ye raise it up for a witness still <br> In the eye of earth and heaven. <br>Then nail my head on yonder tower, <br> Give every town a limb, <br>And God who made shall gather them: <br> I go from you to Him!” <br> <br>The morning dawn’d full darkly,<br> The rain came flashing down, <br>And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt <br> Lit up the gloomy town: <br>The thunder crash’d across the heaven, <br> The fatal hour was come; <br>Yet aye broke in with muffled beat <br> The ’larum of the drum. <br>There was madness on the earth below <br> And anger in the sky, <br>And young and old, and rich and poor,<br> Came forth to see him die. <br> <br>Ah, God! that ghastly gibbet! <br> How dismal ’t is to see <br>The great tall spectral skeleton, <br> The ladder and the tree! <br>Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms— <br> The bells begin to toll— <br>“He is coming! he is coming! <br> God’s mercy on his soul!” <br>One last long peal of thunder: <br> The clouds are clear’d away, <br>And the glorious sun once more looks down <br> Amidst the dazzling day. <br> <br>“He is coming! he is coming!” <br> Like a bridegroom from his room,<br>Came the hero from his prison <br> To the scaffold and the doom. <br>There was glory on his forehead, <br> There was lustre in his eye, <br>And he never walk’d to battle <br> More proudly than to die: <br>There was color in his visage, <br> Though the cheeks of all were wan, <br>And they marvell’d as they saw him pass, <br> That great and goodly man! <br> <br>He mounted up the scaffold, <br> And he turn’d him to the crowd; <br>But they dar’d not trust the people, <br> So he might not speak aloud. <br>But he look’d upon the heavens,<br> And they were clear and blue, <br>And in the liquid ether <br> The eye of God shone through; <br>Yet a black and murky battlement <br> Lay resting on the hill,<br>As though the thunder slept within— <br> All else was clam and still. <br> <br>The grim Geneva ministers <br> With anxious scowl drew near, <br>As you have seen the ravens flock <br> Around the dying deer. <br>He would not deign them word nor sign, <br> But alone he bent the knee, <br>And veil’d his face for Christ’s dear grace <br> Beneath the gallows-tree.<br>Then radiant and serene he rose, <br> And cast his cloak away: <br>For he had ta’en his latest look <br> Of earth and sun and day. <br> <br>A beam of light fell o’er him, <br> Like a glory round the shriven, <br>And he climb’d the lofty ladder <br> As it were the path to heaven. <br>Then came a flash from out the cloud, <br> And a stunning thunder-roll; <br>And no man dar’d to look aloft, <br> For fear was on every soul. <br>There was another heavy sound, <br> A hush and then a groan; <br>And darkness swept across the sky— <br> The work of death was done!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Edmondstoune+Aytoun">William Edmondstoune Aytoun</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538112" data-title="The Execution Of Montrose de William Edmondstoune Aytoun" data-description="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: ..."></div>
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