THE COVENANTERS

1. A Narrative Poem

BY

ROBERT CRAIG

KING COTTAGE, BEITH

PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION

1894

SCANNED FROM THE ORIGINAL SCRIPT

AND RE-TYPED BY

DAVID ROBERT CRAIG

(GREAT-GREAT-GRANDSON OF ROBERT'S BROTHER, DAVID)

AUGUST, 2001

PREFACE

The following Poem was composed in the long nights of the winter of 1892-3. I had composed a few lines nearly a dozen years previous, and had noted them on a slip of paper. Finding them in the end of October, 1892, by February, 1893, the poem had become very near as it now stands. The following explains how it arose :-

Going into the kirk one day, I was astonished to hear the young man, who was officiating for the day, make a most virulent attack upon the Covenanters and the Covenant, denouncing them for all that was vile, wicked, and fanatical, declaring that Scotch dissent " arose from the scum of the froth of John Knox's preaching," whatever that might be. While he denounced the Covenanters, he as highly extolled the Dean of Edinburgh -that Jenny Geddes frightened out of his canonicals - Sharpe the apostate, Laud, and others, as men of great learning, piety. and holiness. At first I marvelled to hear such dogma in a Presbyterian Kirk, and as he went on I found my feelings formulating itself into the following rhyme :-

Give up thou roaring preacher this nonsense and this rant,

What ? thou a clerk in Scotland's Kirk, and ban the Covenant,

And all that race of stalwart men whose deeds around it shine

Like wreaths or glory, raising them to height almost divine ?

And on to some dozen of verses. I had noted them down, and finding them years after, it struck me on reading them over that they might be amplified into a poem on the Covenanters. The result is here. Although this young clergyman was the most virulent against the Covenant that I have ever heard, still he stands not alone in his attack upon the Covenanters and the Covenant. The fashion at present with a certain class of the Scotch Presbyterian clergymen is to slight the Covenant and the Covenanters when not making open attack upon them. Various causes may account for this, but the chief cause is a want of knowledge of how the Covenant came to exist. The general opinion is that it was entered into by the Presbyterian clergy in defence of their mode of worship. This is only a small part of the truth; civil liberty had as much to do with it as the mode of worship. Most people know all about Charles the First and Laud attempting to impose a ritual upon the Scots - in truth, change their Kirk into an Episcopacy - but fewer know that, along with this change, was also imposed a "Court of High Commission" to sit in Edinburgh and try questions affecting religion-in fact, a branch of the "Star Chamber."

It was this imposition, of what the Scotch nobility called an "iniquitous Court," that made nearly the whole people of Scotland, headed by the nobles, to sign and swear the "bond of union" that became known as the Solemn League and Covenant. As is well known, when the Scots came to know that the King and Laud was determined to thrust the ritual and this Court upon them, by the sword if needed, they formed themselves into committees called Tables, to resist. These Tables, by a body servant of the King, it is said, were kept informed of all that was resolved against them by the King, excited by Laud. The latter had prepared a proclamation, and sent it down with Traquair, who was sworn to secrecy, but who was to read it at Edinburgh cross, and post up copies. The Tables had know- ledge of its contents, and had called a full meeting with their followers to oppose the reading of it. To steal a march upon the Tables, Traquair and Roxburgh started at midnight for Stirling, and read it at the cross by 10 o'clock forenoon. The Tables had notice of this, and sent off Lord Hume and Lord Lindsay, who out-rode the others, and were present at the reading of the proclamation with a notary, and protested against it. This was done wherever the edict was read. and this protest was the nucleus of the Covenant.

The Tables having gone so far, had either to go further, or trust to the King's mercy. They knew his intentions too well to ask pardon for past offences, nor were they in frame to do so. A committee of nobles and clergymen were chosen to draw up a "bond of union," which was done with great care, submitted to and approved by the Tables, and latterly to a full meeting in the Church of the Greyfriars, when it was signed and sworn to by all present, and in two months by nearly the whole people of Scotland, peer and peasant. Thus rose the Solemn League and Covenant; it was no fanatical get up, but a truly national affair in defence of civil and religious liberty. The carrying of it into England by the clergy, and the adoption of it by the Presbyterians there, did harm by detracting from its truly national Scotch character as it at first stood. This - with the various parties that arose during the civil war and interregation of Cromwell, fomented with all the venom that spiritual tide which swelled the clergy at this time, and caused the nobles to leave them - was the foundation of all the suffering that fell upon Scotland in the reign of Charles II.

The misfortune of his father was no lesson to the Second Charles. Restored to the throne without restrictions he took up the same policy towards Scotland that his father had been compelled to give up; and during his reign Scotland was treated as a conquered country. His brother James did the same, and for twenty eight years the spirit of the Scots remained unbroken under one of the most tyrannical systems that man could invent. Sir Walter Scott, no friend to the resisting party, says, of the King swearing lawburrows against those who refused the "bond," - "This, adopted by Lauderdale upon the western gentlemen refusing the bond had really some appearance of being the absolute dictate of an evil spirit*." The policy pursued in Scotland both frightened and sharpened the English, and when James II. introduced his papist policy, and put the Primate and six Bishops into jail, they soon made sharp work with him. So that, in a large measure, we owe our civil and religious liberty to the resistance of the Scots Covenanters. Burns in the heading I have adopted, recognises this.

ROBERT CRAIG.

KING COTTAGE, BEITH,

MAY, 1894.

* Tales of a Grandfather, chapter 18.

THE COVENANTERS

INTRODUCTION

"The Solemn League and Covenant

Cost Scotland blood, cost Scotland tears,

But it sealed Freedom's sacred cause -

If thou'rt a slave indulge thy sneers."

- Burns

HAIL! Mother Scotia! nurse of men ever free and brave,

Men who would for thy honour die, than turn their lives to save-

Men, as thy simple story tells, stood foremost with the free,

As firm as stands thy rock-bound coast against the raging sea ;

So have our true Scots fathers stood against tyrannic foe's,

Or met in fight the hero's fate - a death no dastard knows.

Beneath their mountain shadows, and a climate rough and wild,

They grow up in their rugged strength - made heroes from the child ;

Impressed from youth, it forms in all a nature fearless, bold,

To stand and die, than turn and leave that which they wish to hold;

As dread to foes, as is to ship, storm borne, a rocky coast,

And left their name in martial fame high as a race can boast -

A fame that marks them handle arms in battle, steady, stern,

Though truth must own they sometimes did the loser's lesson learn.

No weak poetic fable this vain Scotsmen love to build,

But truth engraved deep by their swords on many a hard-fought field,

As pages of bright history do to all the world proclaim,

A brilliant roll of gallant deeds that hold up Scotland's fame.

Of all historic people that have shown commanding mind

In holding free their country from foes of direst kind,

None ever have surpassed or shown such fiery, fervid ken,

In love of home and liberty than have those brave Scotsmen.

In every age this passion burns, no lurid, spurting light,

But in a steady fervent flame, found always burning bright ;

Behold it rise to height sublime when Edward's treachery

Did Scotland seize, when in distress, as a fair English prey,

Some weak Scots thanes their fire did damp, where cold in sleep

it lay,

And Edward and his heroes thought that they had won the day.

But God, who guarded Scotland's rights, raised up a nobler seed

(Than these weak Thanes), that blossomed fair when most it was in need ;

The true heroic Wallace rose, whose daring deeds did fire

The hearts of Scotsmen, sore depressed, to bold and strong desire

To lift from off their country's breast tyrannic Edward's hand,

And free all Scotland and all Scots from his assumed command.

Firm was the struggle, hard the fight, by bright old Harry sung,

And envious Thanes did Wallace fear, and low the balance hung;

The traitors triumphed for a time, brave Wallace was betrayed,

And Scotia's sprite wept to behold her hero lowly laid.

But Wallace's spirit hovered o'er the land he loved so well,

And poured into the brave Scots hearts a patriotic swell,

That blazed up in a true Scots fire, heroic, daring, cruse,

And England's arms before them fell at Bannockburn with Bruce,

For Scotland, Life, and Liberty, blazed from each Scotsman's eye,

Each soldier was a hero brave, his motto "do or die."

Though great the day of Bannockburn to freemen ever dear,

The Bruce a nobler battle fought in his life's famed career,

And won it too, against that power that did the world enslave-

The Pope of Rome, who Europe held in a tyrannic wave.

Does there a Scotsman live whose heart beats not with honest pride

To see this tyrant and his power by a few Scots defied ;

This vain, audacious, upstart priest, to God's power making claim,

Made kings and peoples bend their neck, kneel to his power and name.

Long Europe was in slavery, he raised up and cast down

Kings as he pleased; his smile was life, and death lurked in his frown ;

He tried his game with Bruce, who saw him working under-hand :

To bring destruction on the work he had done for Scotland.

Bruce and the Scots arose as one, defied the Pope's whole power

Expelled his priest, and dared their threats how " fiends would them devour; "

Black was this vice-god's brow, and wild his eyes as stormy seas,

When told the Scots mocked at his power and scorned his awful keys. Fearsome his rage as up he rose, and did to all proclaim

The Scots accurst, and double cursed the noble Bruce's name,

Ordered his Bishops to arise and curse with book and bell

Bruce and the Scots, and send them down with rebel fiends to dwell.

To this the noble Bruce replied by sending forth command

To hang all priests that dared to curse a Scot on Scottish land,

The frightened Bishops then set up at York their cursing camp,

With all power of the Church. the Pope, to conquer, fright, and

damp ;

Here excommunications, with cursings deep and dread,

Against brave Scotland and her king, were by high churchmen read.

With book, with bell, and candle, bishops cursed until their breath

Had almost fled, and left them in a tussle with King Death ;

For two whole years the Bishops cursed, and Christendom amazed

At the strange sight, with fear at first, they thought the Scots were crazed,

But when they see no pestilence nor evil on them seize,

The sun heat them in its old way, fruits ripe on land and trees.

And Scotland stand, not swallowed up by earthquake, and unchanged,

And Rome's vice-god and all his power defied and unrevenged.

When they saw this strong doubts arose about the Pope's great power,

That a few Scots should mock it thus - a nation small but dour -

Whose trust was God, and liberty, and the noble chief who led

Them safe through dangers thick and great, a brave undaunted head,

That had made England rue her raid, and this dread god in Rome,

The fear of Europe, to sit mum, and bite his thumbs at home.

The Pope, clean beat, his error saw, and mischief from it spread,

So, like a cunning beggar loun whose rash tongue makes him dread

An awmous lost, turns round and whins, with flattery and sigh,

So to the Scots this vice-god turns with peace appealing eye ;

Their friendship sought, on England blamed the work done by himself

When first he thought to crush the Scots as so much rotten delf,

But found he had to do with men that never stopped to spare

Their life for Home and Liberty; though down, still rose to dare.

Oh! what a gruesome pill was this for Rome's great god to take,

But better far than to allow the nations to awake

From superstition's sleepy draught, with open eyes to see

The imposture and pretence that in this god's assumptions be.

No brighter gem than this one fight sits upon Scotland's crown,

That this small nation should be first to strike the Pope's pride down,

When larger nations trembling kneeled to his pretended power,

And kings, barefooted, in a sheet, did penance by the hour.

Time cares for no one, pope nor king, it silent moves along,

Nations may quarrel and exhaust, but Time keeps ever strong ;

King comes, succeeding king, and reigns throughout life's fickle day,

While Time remains in strength of youth, beholds them pass away.

Now James the Sixth, the tenth from Bruce, has heired the English throne,

And reigns united British king, God chosen, as his own,

So bishops told him he was king by power of "right divine,"

And yet he was the queerest king in all the Bruce's line ;

Both wise and foolish, vain and weak, fads always caught his ear,

And bishops preaching "right divine" was his delight to hear.

He glued his mind to this foul creed, and stood in Church and State

As if he was in power and truth a god controlling fate ;

Timid for blood he feared extremes, but left ills that his heir,

Charles the First, found burdens more than his weak mind could bear.

James slept in death; and Charles, lord of all, would change the chimes,

Led by a priest, proud Laud, and blind to movement of the times,

Ordered the Scots to change their kirk according to his word,

Or have to do it by the power of his avenging sword.

This roused the Scotsmen's ancient fire, they vapour not nor vaunt,

But joined as one, they rise and sign a League and Covenant

To hold their creed and kirk secure, their liberty brave won,

Against all kings, all Popes and priests, that tyranny may own.

Now both prepare for bloody war; and Charles, blind, unwise,

Sets down his heel on England's breast, and Englishmen arise,

And with the Scots they join and swear "the League and Covenant"

Will fight unless the King will bend, and freedom to them grant.

Poor vacillating King, all fit to raise up human storms,

But lacks the power to guide their course, or conquer by his arms;

Now loud the noise of battle roars throughout the British isles,

And to the sword the King in vain tries plots and plans and wiles ;

And underhand, to priest-fed fads, he still tenacious clings,

Yet not to his, but Cromwell's balls, the song of victory rings.

Cromwell, the genius, was the man; benealh his thunder shock

Both King and priest went down as if they had been balls of smoke ;

Noll, sealed high on his new throne, held all firm in his hand,

Showed it was best to trifle not with him or his command.

Thus for a time he reigned a King, a firm chastiser sore,

At last Death left the fatal call, and he was seen no more.

The road now clear again, came in the Stewart's royal line,

Charles the Second, hailed by priests "a King by right divine,"

Let in as free as air, and soon he bound with chain and thong

The Covenanters, which now makes the subject of my song.

CANTO FIRST

DEATH is the king of kings, and pays a like respect to all,

Calls off a king in the same tone the beggar gets his call;

Death often had passed Cromwell by on many a bloody field,

Now he has called, and to the call the conqueror must yield,

And leave the people free from more of his chastising blows,

Who think good times will, with the King, come blooming like a rose.

What great rejoicing now takes place, what running "to and fro" ,

Without reflection, reason, thought, the people forward go ;

All classes shout bring home the King, all classes dance and sing,

Rejoice, and cry the good old times will come back with the King.

A few brave men, God's long tried seed, that serve the nation right

When slavish men and tyrant power threat liberty and light,

These stand aloft in wonderment to see all men so mad,

And in forecast behold the time when they will feel it sad.

Thus by a toss of Fate's weird ball the ancient royal seat

Received again the Stewart line 'midst drinking, joy, and fete ;

Men all are glorious creatures to order, eat, and drink,

When public purse is paymaster, with none to check or think.

Thus, now the second Charles was re-seated on the throne

Amidst such feasting, fun, and noise, as if from earth had gone ,

All pain and evil, sin and shame, left it a paradise

Of love and loving, mirth and joy, and merry smiling eyes ;

O'er which the King, at Whitehall, leads a life so merry, free,

As Cromwell never had been there, nor ever there could be.

Oh! royal Charles Stewart, can misfortunes stern and great,

That withered all thy early life, hard as the bolts of fate,

Not be a lesson to thy years, and cause thee to reflect

Upon the ruin of thy house, thy father's work a wreck.

Not thou! vain King, thou dooms thy race, thou neither thinks nor cares

What way thy people may move on, or what thy people dares,

So be that thou thy pleasures have, thy harem, and thy wine,

And be by priestcraft flattered as a "King by right divine."

What dreadful lime for Scotland this that stares her in the face,

Her rulers men who care for nought but get and keep a place ;

Mad turn abouts have changed their kirk with the King's kirk to square,

With them the King has left his power, his royal work and care,

So that he may can pass his time where harem beauties shine,

Where buffoons jest, and mirth and fun flow upon waves of wine.

The turn about Scotch ministers had Covenanters been,

Had pressed it upon others, as its holders true and keen ;

Now charged with power, they look on all that hold it true and good,

As treason nursers, whose lives must end sharply in their blood.

But first they will to London go, get full power from the King,

To cut and carve in Scots affairs, and rule in every thing ;

Here Middleton and Lauderdale, and others of kin mates,

Got full authority to rule the Scots and their Estates.

The Presbyterians sent Sharpe, a brother reckoned true,

To plead their cause; but the sharp rogue saw how the court wind blew,

Betrayed his kirk, his brethren, and joined with the turn abouts,

Came back Lord Primate of the church, caught dazzled by the shouts

That rent the court; the king is back, let bishops too, back be,

The king pleased with this work, gave all a month of feast and glee.

And such a month of feasting and drinking was never seen,

And every kind of Lady there, but Britain's noble Queen,

With high and martial spirit, she scorned to meet the band

Of beauties, and place hunters, who care not to spoil the land.

The month of feasting, plans and plot, had brightened Scotsmen's faith,

And pleased the king to know that all opposers would meet death,

All things now settled ; with delight the traitor slaves came home,

To change the kirk; send ministers who will not change to roam,

The people yet scarce understand, but free from Noll, they dream,

And in the fun and drinking, go to opposite extreme.

Those who had spent this feasting month in London with the king,

Nobles, rulers, and bailies, do the fast free living bring

To Scotland; where in the free path, they wish the people taught

To drink and jest, and bring about the change of Kirk they sought;

And so they start a foolish life, of drinking, sin, and shame,

Where prudent thought, and self-restraint, had neither place or name.

When dogs that have been long chained up, and not allowed to stray,

Get free; O ! how they scamper forth, run, fight in fun, and play;

So with the Scots, they had been firm chained up for a long time,

And kept by martial power away from Maypoles, dance, and rhyme,

From song, and all those revels, in which youth delights to move

Obedient to those feelings, so dear to youth, and love.

Now free from Noll's stern ironsides - those dark throat slitting saints,

With all their guarded tyranny, and ever watched restraints ;

And all their old ways back again, and with them wine and ale,

To all as free as heaven's rain, no marvel that they hail

The blythesome time come with the King, to last and never end ;

As paid touts among the people the joyful tidings send.

Except a few; all happy felt, and well content to see

The King upon his throne again, though wild the revels be ;

The few - more knowing than the rest, did penetrate out-through

The vail of mirth, that covered storms, and hidden deeds, to brew

Dark times for Scotland, and the Scots, that stand by conscience, true

To Covenant, and Presbyter, of the approved true blue.

Fear fell upon the people, when told Sharpe and Lauderdale, Episcopalians, new turned, in council do prevail,

And whispers heard that all must change, or be set down as foes

Unto the King and Government; and on the turning goes,

And threatenings by Sharpe on all that change not, but adhere

Unto the Covenant and Kirk; old friends he late held dear ;

Such are mankind when wealth and power, by dark means fill their hand,

Old friends and creeds turn hated weeds to be cleared from the land.

CANTO SECOND

NOT long until the turn abouts, proud servants of the king,

Commenced to show their policy, and spread abroad their wing ;

Upon the king's birth-day was made a fete where a supply

Of wine and ale was given out, as free as air and sky;

Commissioners and councillors, brave guardians of the state,

Vied with the people, who would first show the king honour great,

In drinking most, and soon all were in such a mental wealth

When one rose to propose the king, he gave the devil's health

With roaring cheers; and, as designed, a roaring bonfire rose

In tongues of flame, that to the height of tower and steeple goes,

Then came the hangman, in his hand, the League and Covenant,

And tossed it straight into the flames, amidst loud fun and rant ;

The paper soon was shrivelled up into a blackened rind ;

Men howled like beasts and danced and roared, till a strong whirlwind,

Like a huge giant on the march, swift bore the whole away,

In spiral columns to the clouds: all were in strange dismay,

And quickly sobered at the sight, and shivering with fear,

As in this cyclone numbers saw the wrath of God appear

Against such wicked revelry, for not one man was here,

That had not sworn the Covenant, to keep it cherished dear.

The drunk were sobered by the sight, and many made for home -

The earnest thinking men that feared worse things might on them come ;

Even councillors, in dumb amaze, stood as if turned to stone ;

But new supplies of wine brought back their merry roaring tone.

Then such a day of drunken roar, was never in Scotland,

And royal edicts, maudlin read, with none to understand :

Men, true and good, heart-pierced with grief, had early made for home,

Vexed to see magistrates in drink, and in fool frolics roam,

Well knowing that the fete was smoke to cover a great storm,

Lowering ahead, to strike the Kirk, bring on its people harm,

Root freedom out, make conscience bow unto the King's command -

The people live his slaves, in all he of them may demand.

The burning of the Covenant was no mad thoughtless deed,

But a well planed out policy of which this was a seed ;

A new state policy prepared by ministers and king,

That would to Scotland bloody tears, in pain felt torrents bring.

No time allowed to let it cool, the council quick and hot,

Soon went in haste to Glasgow - still the same hard-drinking lot ;

Enlarged by traitors from the Kirk, and without thought or glance,

Inspired by Bacchus and the King, send forth from Kirk and manse,

Four hundred true Scots ministers, who will not change to please

The king; and traitors, conscience charred by a black devil's case,

A syrup used by those who sell themselves for power and gold,

Kirk, Liberty, and Conscience, as those councillors have sold.

Not so those brave, true ministers, they go with conscience clear,

From home and glebe they forth do go, with wife and children dear;

Strong in their faith they trust in God, and move calm and serene,

Though well they know that dangers lie around them not unseen :

It shows in scowling traitors' brows signs of the coming storm,

And edicts fixing Liberty, dark boding future harm.

Do King and councillors suppose a nation doubly sworn

To hold Kirk, Faith, and Liberty, will all be so base born,

As, at a King's call, leave their Faith, their Liberty, and God,

Fall at his feet and change their Kirk whenever he does nod.

In every age poor Mammon slaves have left, for wealth and power,

Their Faith and Conscience, and for gold would change three times an hour

Weak, vacillating men, whose pride is to be rich and great !

But not on them depend or hang a free-born nation's fate,

But on such brave and noble men as Bruce did lead in yore,

Who for their Liberty did fight, did bear the life they bore ;

And on such men as here have left their livings and their all,

Men who will stand to Faith and Kirk whatever may befall ;

For conscience sake do dare to die, freely give life and breath,

And for their freedom seal that life with a brave martyr's death.

Dark shadows lie on Scotland's breast, on mountain, moor, and plain,

In every strath the dark cloud hangs, in many households pain ;

Doubt and distress like demons close around the bravest men,

As tyrant laws are issued forth from an infamous den

Of turn-faced traitors, black and vile, that now do represent,

As Bishops and King's nominees, the old Scots parliament.

Here traitor Sharpe, that sold the Kirk, sits haughty, proud, and vain,

Received a god, by ancient peers, meek kneeling to his train ;

He, my Lord Primate, sits aloft, rules like a tyrant king,

While magistrates and provosts kneeling, to him homage bring.

O ! where is now that spirit that was wont to Scotsmen fire,

Did noblemen and commons all, and churchmen e'en inspire

Against the tyranny of kings, of ropes, and all that rose

To rob them of their Liberty, or show themselves its foes ?

Dead! it is not, it cannot die! a seed lives to remain,

That in good time will flower and yield one hundredfold of grain ;

Now cast aside by careless King and his vain puffers on,

It from them and their minions flies, and to the moors has gone.

Left Middleton and Lauderdale to fine and clutch the fee,

And cherish avarice, when not lost in debauchery. ;

Left Sharpe to persecute, and prime his mind with arrogance

Against old Covenanters, now foot spurning his pretence,

And with the old Scots spirit fired, denounce him to his face,

Laugh at his stole, deride his throne, scorn both him and his place.

But woe to them if once they fall within his reaching power,

Within a raging tiger's claws life would be more secure.

No tyrant ever harder worked in scheming to take life

Than this vain primate did, nor drew fouler inventions rife

To root the Kirk from out the land he had sworn to preserve

When a poor Presbyterian with no high aim to serve ;

Now he would stamp that spirit out, dear to the Scottish race,

And make them poor submissive slaves to his and the king's grace.

In trembling rage the primate rose, and he spoke loud and stern,

That all these men shall feel thc law and by its power made learn ,

Their walk and work, and if the law Iacks power in any thing,

By promlse I can have It right by asking of the king. "

And though these rebel knaves and I once walked in the same coat,

I rose, they fell, and now envy disturbs them at my lot ;

But by the Church that I now head, and by our good King's aim.

I will make this deluded core honour my Church and name.

Spurred by his vow, he seized his pen, and to the King thus wrote -

"0, mighty King! the greatest, best, God to the throne ere brought;

0, King I write to say that in thy northern realm are found

A band of rebels, traitors, that in secret go around :

And preach in houses, straths, and glens, against thy Church and laws,

And e'en against thy Majesty ; and followed with applause

By men rank poisoned by this band, whose home is ill to ken,

Black rebels that have fled from work, and fly from strath to glen.

Before we know, meetings are held, where hundreds meet to hear

The vilest treason volumed forth that e'er soiled human ear.

Now, if we had a few dragoons, commandant stern and true,

To hunt the moors, be aye in trim, and ready to pursue ;

And as for hunters, vie to be the first in at the death,

With a few horse, soon not a reb. would in your realm have breath."

"Right trusty friend," the King writes back, " my Primate, loved, and true,

What is required to aid the Church thou wilt have power to do ;

Proof how I like thy just request I send a fair display

Of horse and foot, led by Dalziel, a man that knows the way

To stop a rebel preacher's mouth, knows how to fire the heath,

And with his Iambs is sure to be the first in at the death."

Woe! woe! to Presbyterians, that were Sharpe's friends of old,

Those true to Covenant and Kirk, which he betrayed and sold ;

Elated on his lofty throne, now armed with power supreme,

Yet often starts, as if the whole enchantment is, and dream ;

But late a parish clergyman, a Presbyterian keen,

Now Primate of the new Scots Church, hates all that he has been,

Power to his wish, which he will use, applauded by the King,

Has vowed he will to church or death the stubborn rebels bring.

The Covenanters, just as firm, on principle do stand,

Care nothing for his power and force, his threat and dread command ; .

With all his power and threatening, his looks are sulky sour

As he beholds the battle between principle and power.

On his side power, well armed with all that pride and purse command,

He hopes he can make principle fall down at his demand ;

Yet demon doubts afflict his mind, and kindle up his ire,

And warps his proud, vain mind to rage, vile cruelties inspire.

Not so the Covenanters true, who value less their lives

Than the loved principles they hold, defying guns and knives,

Fines, gruesome jails, and gallows trees, and life-destroying fire,

And all the tortures power can reach, its cruelty desire.

Thus armed, the Covenanters stand on principle and God,

Prepared to die but not to yield, however power may goad

Now fierce the battle rages, power's word exterminate !

High on his throne the Primate sits in his rich robes of state,

And, like some ancient temple god, his look is mild to view,

A harmless image, but beneath this drape strong passions brew -

Pride, rage, and hate, that orders all, from general to judge,

To clear the land of rebels quick, and all who show him grudge.

The military thus pushed on, do hunt on every side,

They captures make, judges condemn, the battle rages wide ;

Even liege Presbyterians dare not their chaplains keep,

Or soon they find Sharpe's dastard claws, in fines, and dungeons deep.

So great the scourge and curse of po\ver that rules in Scotland,

In Sharpe and Middleton, and all who drive on sword in hand,

That jailings and executions, confiscations and fines,

Drive every freedom-loving man into resisting lines.

See brave Cunningham of Bedland, and Kerr of Kerrsland sure,

Good Porterfield of Quarrelton, from Caldwell gallant Mure ;

With M'Lellan of Barscob, and Neilston of Carson brave,

And others, who would give their life to Scotland's honour save ;

Brave gentlemen, whose hearts were filled with Scotland's ancient fire,

Which would have given victory as sure as their desire.

But ere they had their plans matured a circumstance arose

That to the tyrant wolves in power did all their hopes disclose.

Some soldiers roasting an old man, his shrieks brought peasants true,

That took him from the cruel hounds, and beat them black and blue ;

This little band by accident, had fired the heathy ground,

And joined by friends, soon soldiers were not in that country found ;

Their spirits high, they marched right on by General Wallace led,

A namesake of the Wallace wight, but wanted Wallace head ;

Dalziel stepped in between this band, and their true Western

friends, .

And on them fell at Rullion Green, and the new Wallace ends.

Poor unhappy Covenanters! the very toys of fate,

For this slight skirmish, many men did loss a fine estate,

Transferred to generals who fought, for black tyrannic power,

And greedy judges on the bench, who coin and land devour.

Great was the Primate's joy, to hear a battle had been won ;

Now he would crush rebellion out, and with it soon have done.

As thus he mused, with joy he heard a distant wild halloo,

Break on his ear, and soon beheld troops marching into view,

Victorious troops - sword driving their prisoners like sheep ;

And trumpeteers sound victory, in notes that cadence keep.

Between two lines of marching horse, the Primate saw a sight -

Full twenty Covenanters brave in pairs chained firm and tight ;

These ministers and leaders, who too precious to drive free,

Were chained and guarded, as Dalziel had ordered them to be.

Those driven loose were in the yard of old Greyfriars penned,

Where soon, through usage vile and want, found many lives their end,

The others into jails were put, though some there not for long,

Those who had touched the Primate's pride, roused his resentment strong.

The Council met to hear the names, and as the clerk read clear,

Two names of prisoners struck hard on Sharpe's vindictive ear.

He stopped the clerk; the Council told these, Nelson and Mackail,

Must be before them on next day and that without a fail,

And questioned in the boots, who led against our Church and State,

Thus to conspire - then let them have the rebel's destined fate.

Next day they did Nelson condemn, a man of good estate,

And a true Covenanter, the crime that sealed his fate,

And with him Hugh Mackail, a youth, whose glory fills the earth,

For few like him so brave and good have on it yet had birth.

First, Nelson was adjudged the boot, invention sure of hell,

And by the Council questioned there on things he could not tell ;

And wedges driven, till knee bones were splintered in their place,

And from it blood was scattered thick across the hangman's face.

E en councillors were marked with drops of this true martyr's blood ;

Yet still the fiends, dulled down with drink, ask on their questions crude;

Until a doctor called a halt to stay this demon strife,

Or that it would, if longer done, imperil Nelson's life.

More like a dead, than living man, Nelson was then let out,

And Hugh Mackail was put into the horrid torture boot:

They had compelled him to behold, tortures on Nelson done,

And soon his own knee was a mass of crushed and broken bone.

Back to the jail they both were sent, though not for ease or rest,

In dreadful pain yet, no respite for them, they are opprest

By all the ills man can invent, to irritate, annoy,

To keep them so, they night and day, the rudest men employ.

At last to execution brought, in death, Oh ! what delight,

A joy that all unearthly shone, a light around them bright

Mackail stood forth as free of earth, who did in heaven soar,

Before that death had cut the thread, and freed him from earth's shore.

Upon the ladder firm he stood, (the headsman standing by,

With all his instruments of death around him lying nigh ;)

His countenance so sweet, refined, seemed not of flesh and blood,

As calmly he surveyed around thc surging multitude :

With voice all music, said: "Good friends and Christians, loved, dear,

Come here to see us die a death oft makes the stoutest fear ; .

But, oh ! rejoice ! and know that God to us this day has given,

To leave the joys of earth, and go to meet the joys of heaven."

"Be not dismayed such multitudes should see us public die ;

Know greater multitudes have come of spirits standing nigh,

To guard, convey, our souls from earth, and see us home to God,

And angels with them beckoning us to our new abode,

There free from earth forever more, and all its vile accord,

And live with Christ in brotherhood, in presence of the Lord.

Lord grant these hunters after blood, may opened have their eyes,

That they may see how thou for us prepare eternal joys :

Oh ! let them see the multitudes of spirits, angels, come

To meet, convey our souls from earth, to thy eternal home ;

Oh I let them see our triumph, and let persecution cease,

And Presbyterians worship, as they desire, in peace."

"Oh ! weeping friends, be not afraid, nor deem this death a shame,

We die for God and Covenant, in our Redeemer's name ;

We go from earth to heaven, the spirit calls us - come !

And thousands here wait to convey our souls to our new home,

To live with martyrs, apostles, and holy men of old -

Angels and saints, all glorious, in one united fold.

Heaven is open to my sight, with all its joys so great,

And multitudes of spirits blessed in glorious estate ;

And oh! my friends, upon us now, what blessed bright eyes are set,

And mark how they prepare the crowns-the crowns we are to get.

O ! who can once behold this sight, and not yearn to be free,

From earth and all its good and ill, to join the joys I see !

0! earth, farewell ! 0! friends, farewell ! father and mother, dear,

Farewell ! farewell! until we meet in heaven's happy sphere ;

O ! world, farewell, with all thy charms, farewell to drink and meat,

Farewell ! O sun, farewell ! O moon, and stars that twinkle sweet !

Farewell to all earth's joys of life! O welcome ! heaven sure ;

O ! welcome God, and welcome Christ, my joy forever more ;

O! welcome Holy Spirit, sweet consoler of our faith ;

Welcome glory and eternal life, and now, 0! welcome death."

In full sight of earth and heaven, thus spoke brave Hugh Mackail ;

When standing on the brink, to step into death's dread dark vale ;

But not to him a death's dark vale, but path of love and light !

Though cruel men thought they could make it one of shame and fright.

But God Himself did light the road, and while Hugh's prelate foes

Rejoiced that they had stopped his voice, ten hundred men arose,

Fierce from his ashes and his words, their souls ablaze with fire,

Went forth to keep a true seed fresh and work their heart's desire.

Give praise to God, who did raise up the martyr, Hugh Mackail -

An army from his blood have sprung, and will in time prevail ;

The Kirk will blossom like a rose, and will all Scotsmen cheer ;

Before this come it must be won by many a bloody tear,

And many lives of noble Scots will suffer for their faith ;

But seed is sown, and will grow fresh by every martyr's death.

So sang the converts brave Mackail did from the scaffold make,

Each one stands ready on himself the martyr's doom to take,

For Scotland's Kirk and Scotland's creed, so let her foes beware,

As men of faith are in the field, whose motto is, "We dare."

CANTO THIRD

What dark and cruel crimes were done when Dalziel was let loose

On Scotland's western shires, and he brought tortures into use

He stole from Russia, and caused the Scots to suffer sore --

Had it a conquered nation been, it had not suffered more.

Sharpe, Middleton, and Lauderdale, and others now elate,

Did, as Commissioners, forfeit many a fine estate.

Of men they had resolved to rob, for, truly, well they know

The King will on them and their friends the forfeit lands bestow:

Though many fine and fair estates had come into their hand,

Yet still the greedy, grasping set wished more at their command.

Dalzeil and Banatyne soon put poor Scotland in a fright,

And with the Council's dark consent they robbed it left and right,

They left their soldiers free to roam, to ravage, rob, destroy,

And on themselves as bad they went in the same wild employ.

They every class hunt and harass and Covenanters sought,

And so unto the gallows tree they many Scotsmen brought.

But high their glee, and keen the hunt, fun set on fire their will,

Given after a rough landowner with gold their purse to fill ;

When caught, they threat with tortures vile, and make the poor men give

Them of their means and substance, till they have not with to live.

So base is human nature, when vile, marked with crime and wrong,

And has the power, as here, to make the weak bow to the strong ;

So, hardened in their villany, they offer bribe and share,

And pardon for the worst of crimes, to scoundrels that will swear

They had heard wealthy landlords, though loyal men and known

Addressing rebel meetings, and there did the King disown.

For years this demon's work went on to break that spirit down

Of independence which the Scots, with liberty, firm own.

Sharpe worked right snell to crush it out, and make thc people slaves

To Crown and Church - he to do this would Scotland fill with graves.

After years of executions, transportations, and fines,

A lull came over Scotland, and Sharpe took it for good signs

Of Presbyterians failing, of Covenanters done,

And wrote the King in too hot haste, "Our noble Church has won,

Most sacred Majesty, the best God e'er brought to this throne ;

For ever upon thee and thine, is firm fixed Church and Crown !

Had we another score of heads, all Scotland will be free

Of Covenanters and their creed, that shameless Presbytrie."

The King thanked Sharpe, and praised his zeal, which made the Primate proud,

And vow he soon would have the last reb. lying in his shroud.

He left the Council full of this, and to his palace went

To plan how he might trap the rogues, his vengeance on them vent.

When Sharpe went off, the Council called a merry drinking feast

To celebrate their past campaign, that had their wealth increased ;

The Council in the midst of feast, and wild debauchery,

Of drinking hard, in joy or peace, and roaring full of glee,

Were startled by a messenger, with a dispatch of woe,

A band of Covenanters armed, had struck the church a blow -

On Magus Moor, had murdered Sharpe, and had got clear away. Lauderdale pugged his neighbour's ribs, and in his ear did say, -

"He is well off, and now our chance is milk the rogues by fine,

After the gallows gets its due. Come boys, on with the wine,

For we will need a stomach full to keep our nerves in tune -

As we must after this look sharp, and that too sharp and soon."

So on they drank and chatted free on the Archbishop's death,

Allowed that he was well away, all whispered under breath ;

But soon they start like frightened geese, as a dispatch in came

That told them all the West was up in one rebellious flame.

And bands were forming on the moors - rebellion led the way ;

That Covenanters all well armed, had on the King's birthday

Seized Rutherglen ; when all was joy, the bonfires blazing fine,

And all the people in delight, supplied with floods of wine.

The magistrates dressed in their robes and chains, show the burgh's wealth,

They were all on a platform placed, and drinking the King's health.

To give one glass unto the King would but insult his name,

So they would a deil's dozen give, the thing to mark their fame ;

And as they drank and cheered and drank, away their glasses threw,

Great fun and scramble to get them, men wrestled, fought and blew

The fun went on, O ! glorious fun, ever bright and fine,

That keeps all merry and in glee, fired up by spates of wine.

The crowd not large - but harmony and laughter keep them warm,

Not dreaming of a shower, nor cloud, nor ever thought of storm,

So fine the day, another round their dozen would complete,

When on their ears came close at hand the thunder of horse feet ;

Nor had they time to look, before came fifty horsemen bold,

Around them formed; two-thirds leaped off the other bridles hold ;

Then what a race of magistrates and others of the crowd,

None tried to stop them; quick and sharp were orders given loud .

Cast in the fire these base church acts, and that their end may shine,

Pour out those flagons on the fire, that they want not for wine."

Soon in the fire the acts were cast with all that caused them pain,

Black proclamations published round since prelates came to reign.

When burned they put the bonfires out - renewed the Covenant,

Nailed up the copy to the cross, with neither noise nor vaunt,

Quiet sung a psalm, then prayed to God to leave the Kirk a seed

That in His own time might yield fruit, to Scotland help in need.

Then off they went unto the moors as quiet as they came,

Leaving their daring deed to stand among Scots deeds of fame.

Such was the tale that now was heard around the Council board,

And filled them all with fear; so late they had the King assured

That all was peace, and would be so, yet scarce sent off till war -

Black civil war, was on the moor, to fight, to fright, and scare.

0, what a roar and noisy cry rose up through Scotland

When it was known Sharpe was dead by Covenanters' hand,

And how the same at Rutherglen "had spoiled the social life

Of loyal men on Charles' day - a combination rife

With sedition, and declaring war against both King and law -

A conspiracy as wicked as statesmen ever saw."

Loud was the call - to arms! to arms! and rallying, I trow,

To get troops under Claverhouse commissioned to pursue.

Four hundred clergymen, Presbyterians, brave and true,

Had by the drunken Glasgow Act bid kirk and gIebe adieu,

And even those that did accept thc offered indulgence,

When standing by this, soon were sent from stipends, kirk, and manse.

No help but God those preachers have, expelled from house and home,

They take to moors and sheltered glens, like commoners, to roam;

Here in those wilds, to scattered flocks, are famous sermons given,

Confirming old, converting young, to liberty and heaven.

Though hunted like beast of the fields by both dragoons and foot,

Those meetings flourished spite of power's wild rage to persecute.

Up in the moors, near Loudon Hill, a liberty abode,

Where Wallace once did strike a blow for liberty and God.

To worship God these men here met, scarce one but had some arm

For self-protection, and protect their wives and bairns from harm :

The Reverend Master Douglas had conducted praise and prayer,

And half on with his sermon, when a watcher noised with care

The signal-troops were coming; others came trotting in

Reporting Clavers and his strength, and soon was heard the din

Of handling arms, of orders gi'en, of getting men in place,

All had resolved to fight or die ere one would turn his face.

Nor long to wait, for scarcely were the armed men planted right

By Hamilton and Burley brave, when Clavers came in sight ;

He quick surveyed the hill-men's strength, and thought a rapid charge

Would make them run; the order gave, and down they came at large,

With thundering shout, but as they neared Burley gave the sign,

And like a clap of thunder rang the fire along his line,

And down came many men and horse, all tumbling in a mass

So close, the living from the dead could scarcely force a pass.

Each living trooper turned and fled, afraid were they to yield

As prisoners, and flew, as chaff wind-blown, from off the field ;

And such a race was never seen on a Scotch Sabbath day -

With Clavers and his troopers it was first to get away.

The Covenanters scarce pursued, but stopped and thanked their God

For this most noble victory - remained in this abode

Until they closed the worship that Clavers had disturbed,

And which most gallantly they had his fighting passions curbed.

In red-hot haste to Edinburgh the conquered Clavers came,

Reported that both south and west were one rebellious flame ;

Then up the drunken Council rose, and trembling by the scaur,

Wrote to the King to send more help, and stop the civil war ;

The King did high commend their zeal, and sent Duke Monmouth down

To take command of all the troops, defend King, Church, and Crown.

Some Covenanters, in their pride, at seeing Clavers fly,

Filled with the pride of self-conceit would instantly there try

Their swords with Monmouth; others who, more calm and cool of head,

Wished to postpone the fight until more friends would join their lead ;

Thus in the camp two parties rose, filled with discordant heat,

That burst in flame when one proposed - to with Duke Monmouth treat :

This raised up the fiery passion of all that wished to fight,

And in the storm a voice was heard - "To treat, is certain blight

Of God, and of his countenance" roared one, with dastard aim ;

In Presbyterian old gown-though none knew whence he came ;

And well he played his part I trow - crying "God would destroy

Them, if they joined those Ishmaelites, and become Monmouth's toy."

When once he had their passions raised-this daring, black decoy,

Well pleased, slipped off to those who did him in this work employ.

None knew the rogue; but roused to rage, and passion surging hot,

Well-known Covenanters, fair blind, helped on his dastard plot,

And called on all to spend this day in prayer, and to make

It one of supplication, that God would them not forsake :

Then to your tents, O Israel, and cry in penitence,

That victory tomorrow may be your inheritance.

Hackstone and Burley groaned in soul to see the evil grow,

And men stood dazed as ministers the devil's nostrums sow ;

More dazed they grew, the nearer that Duke Monmouth came in sight ;

Nor did they move, e'en when they saw him forming to give fight.

A few brave men with Burley and Hackstone did decide

To hold old Bothwell bridge, and keep the Duke's men north of Clyde.

Much marvelled Monmouth to behold his foes not try to bring

Themselves into defence against the army of the King ;

The only men who offered fight were those that held the bridge,

Kept back the King's troops for one hour from passing o'er its ridge ;

But numbers overcame at last, and this brave little band

Tried hard to rally on the force that so inactive stand ;

In vain, in vain! they doltish stand, uncertain how to act,

Until the whiz of ball around, to which they turn their back,

And like a herd of frightened does, took to their heels and ran,

Monmouth gave orders, take alive, but do not slay a man;

Dalziel and Clavers raging. their general disobeyed,

And hunted on their men to kill, until fatigue them stayed;

And blood ran like to water streams, after a storm of rain,

And dyed with red the chorking moor, thick littered with the slain.

Great day for Lauderdale and power, the day of Bothwell Brig ;

Dark for the Covenanters, and the zealous westland Whig -

Again sent forlh as fugitives, to hide in moor and glen,

Or join the growing army of those noble-martyred men.

Clavers may glut his rage, and take revenge for Loudon hill,

And savage, Russian Dalziel exult Scots blood to spill ;

Both raise their slogan murder-cry, their o'er-worked troops to warm,

They kill and slay, till not a man can further use his arm.

The battle and the pursuit o'er, the worn-out troopers rest, -

Disgrace of Loudon hill wiped out, joy leaps in Clavers' breast

To see the bonnie banks of Clyde and moorside littered o'er

With Covenanters sound in death, and ghastly wounds they bore.

"Ah !" said Dalziel, and pointing to Monmouth's crowded camp,

"What prisoners ! Was power my lot, the whole to death I'd stamp; "

"The King must know," said Clavers, " the expense to feed the lot !

This tender milksop in command throws on the day a blot,

Keeping such numbers here alive, false prisoners, to bring

Soon in the future, treason, plots, and war against the king."

Dalziel then went to Monmouth, said, " My Lord, if in your place,

I would shoot down these rogues! my Lord, it will help the King's case."

"Hold! " Monmouth cried; " a coward's rage is in that wail for blood," -

"Your Grace knows best, but this I know, it would do the King good."

Monmouth, disgusted, left the camp, for Edinburgh made way,

And dared them not to touch a hair of prisoners that day.

Now Clavers' trumpets louder tout, proclaiming fresh renown,

As marching proudly up the streets of Edinburgh, fair town,

Driving his prisoners like sheep, that are chained pair and pair,

As if they were the vilest men that ever breathed the air ;

And soon in vilest dungeons cast, packed to the very door,

In want of food, of air, of drink, death soon pressed on them sore,

And all its dismal, dark attacks, those Covenanters bore,

As still Dunnottar and the Bass stand proof for evermore,

Twin sentinels, defying Time, like guardians they stand

To witness on the darkest time e'er seen in Scotland.

And in God's acre, where the dead around Greyfriars lie,

Are hundreds penned - no shelter, but the stormy, changing sky;

Yet worse exposed to rulers who, in their wild actions, dare

To bribe them with free pardon, if they would just boldly sware,

That they have seen in battle land owners and men of means,

Or at some secret meeting cursing bishop's priests and deans,

That the Lauderdales, Mackenzies, and all of that vile brood,

Might to themselves transfer estates, and wealth for their own good.

O can such monstrous perfidy, by man on man be done,

And still eternal justice fill His everlasting throne ?

Ah! cruel tyrants, God is just, and justice fills His throne,

He rules the boundless universe by veiled means of his own ;

Your conscience seared, secure in law, as rulers in the land,

Think God approves these plunderings done by your itching hand ?

As magistrates, yourselves divine from God, of old design,

Approved by King anointed, come of Kings by right divine ;

Who dare your words and actions call in question or surmise,

Accountable but to the King, care you for filched men's cries.

Know, though the mills of God grind slow, the purpose ever grand,

Hid in His own immensity He veils from sight his Hand ;

In folds of light He clothes Himself, unseen by mortal eyes,

Or in dread darkness guides the storm that purifies the skies ;

Unknown to you vile tyrants, in your scourge of human life,

When urging upon men your laws - of devil's work and strife.

Thus worked on drunken Lauderdale, and other traitors bold,

Who sold their country and its kirk, for titles, power, and gold ;

Mackenzie of the dusky mind, cold-blooded, hard, and cruel,

And many that, to help his fire Nick would have ta'en for fuel;

Cold-blooded monsters, working in a thoughtless tyrant's cause.

Soul-hardened in the carrying out of evil-fashioned laws ;

And wrapped in selfish turpitude, black with broken oaths and lies,

But to their squinting minds appear as righteous and wise.

Their day is spent in torturing and sending men to death,

Their night in drink and rioting, in lust's delusive breath ;

So happy in the torturing, so jolly in their power,

No merrier men than they to see the gallows grimly lower

Above a Covenanter. Oh! how wine and laughter stream !

So horrid, that it might be part of some grim demon's dream.

But real is the bloody work, and mirth of men stained vile,

Disgracing their humanity, disgracing Britain's isle.

How after years of cruel deaths of Covenanters brave,

Where men and women, old and young, by hemp cords found their graves,

Again they write the King, and say that Scotland is secure,

The Covenanters but a few, and strong the royal power,

That Lauderdale was for the court, to cheer the royal ear -

How all had worked, how rich the fruit their working present bear.

Yes! all is won, most noble King, he writes; a few to shear

From out the land, then in your realm no rebel will appear.

But short and dim man's vision is while thus they boldly state,

The doom of Stewart's royal line forms in the womb of fate.

Though God allows bad Kings to work until their cup o'erflow,

He keeps the poor oppressed in sight, remembers all their woe ;

And when His judging time arrives He drives the tyrants forth,

Who, with their abject tools, become waif wanderers on the earth.

Thus, while the doom of weird draws round the fated Stewart line,

They and their minions feel secure, by power of "right divine,"

And loud rejoice, yet still hunt on the best of brave Scots men,

Who hide in moorland solitudes, in corrie, haugh and glen,

Away from rough blood-spillers and a priesthood sharp and cold,

To worship, as their conscience prompts, their father's God and fold.

Here, in these ramparts natural, the Covenanters brave

Do meet, their faith a living spring, no passing stormy wave -

That faith which has sustained the mind of man in every age :

The Patriarch and the Prophet, the martyr and the sage ;

Their food, those Psalms that serves all time, that first from Zion went,

The balm of every weary heart when by oppression rent.

Here in this moorland shelter hide the Covenanters, clear

Ring out their favourite songs to God, and rise above all fear -

A remnant of that precious seed that God has ever held.

To work His purpose, in His care a thousandfold to yield.

Dalziel had first to London got and poisoned the King's ear

With tales, that Monmouth was too soft a soldier's work to bear.

"In faith! my King, had l or Jack been first in the command,

You had not had of prisoners such crowds to feed off-hand."

"What do you mean ? " stern asked the King. " I mean, sire, what I say - The Duke gave orders, 'Take alive, but slay not,' on that day,

Called them poor misled men, and all good subjects of the King;

I would, my sire, have given them a rather different string."

So when Duke Monmouth did appear before his father's face,

He saw at once his enemies had put him in disgrace.

The King, in anger, asked, " What plague of prisoners was this ?

He had no loyal Scotchmen left - his command was a miss."

Then left; when York to Monmouth said, " Go sharp, sir, to your home

A prisoner, until the King invite you here to come."

Soon after writing, Lauderdale in sharp haste off had gone

To London to inform the King how Scotland did get on.

The King received him pleasantly, and Lauderdale right bold

Said, in Scotland not a preacher dared conventicles now hold.

"A few wild Covenanters still were hiding in the glens,

But as unfit to raise a broil as a few chuckie hens."

The King laughed loud and long at this, said, "Now, kneel, by my word,

Rise up, my brave Duke Lauderdale," him touching with his sword.

Then to his first of favourites he did the Duke present,

And soon was set a drinking bout, on fun and frolic went ;

The King was nothing but when in a merry round of pleasure,

And he that ministered the most to this was his loved treasure.

And Lauderdale soon bore the bell from off those Whitehall fools,

And ministered so truly well, the King he almost rules.

This raised the jealousy of some, when they perceived the King

Unto the Scotchman, in his cups, such marked attention bring ;

But Lauderdale remained the chief in all mad follies run -

In drinking, wit, debauchery, - in frolic, noise, and fun.

In these dark days when tyrant power trod sore on Scotland's breast,

Were Covenanters hunted and shot down as bishops' pest ;

So hotly hunted, they had not for years had breathing space

To celebrate the Lord's command, chased so from place to place.

A few in caves or houses might the sacred symbols take

From clerks proscribed, and so fulfil the Lord's words, "for My sake "

But thousands of the people, starved for long and dreary years,

Were hungering to celebrate this feast of love through tears.

A calm had settled on the land, now Lauderdale had went

To London, and there to the King his stewardship present ;

A few old faithful ministers, long hunted from their fold,

To fly from rest, from home, and friends, to bear the storm and cold,

Resolved to meet their people, and obey the Lord's command,

In some quiet glade, a chosen place, fit made by Nature's hand.

In Teviotdale the place was found by the Whiteadder's side,

All things made right, the chosen time the genial Whitsuntide ;

A fair broad bank along the stream, that opened out and met

The foot of two round knobs, that rose with easy slope and set,

So like two galleries, and each could well two thousand hold

In easy seat, while all around rose hills and ramparts bold,

Sweet walled close in a lovely place with sweet May flowers in bloom,

And filled the air throughout the glade with riches of perfume.

The day before they were to meet, fear made the clergy blue.

When they were told the young, gay lord of Homes, their secret knew,

Had sworn by every known oath to hunt them off the ground,

And make his horse drink up the wine, and give their health around.

In agitation the brave men scarce knew how to proceed ;

Next day the service should begin, as all had been agreed,

And by this time some hundreds would be foot sore on the road,

Come from afar, with brethren join, and pay their vows to God.

Betrayed - all known - as now they think, they mourn the sore mishap,

And so behold themselves and friends, caught in a very trap.

God works not by the lights of men, He moves in His own way;

Brave Blackadder rose, with Dickson bold, at once their fears do stay,

As forth they went and saw the throng all marching to the place,

Where all had set to meet next day, faith shining in each face,

When they beheld the hundreds there, foot sore upon the road.

All earnest, pushing to the glade, to pay their vows to God,

As conscience moved, they saw God's hand thus showing them the way,

And there resolved to carry out His will without delay.

O what a glorious temple, in which they now do meet,

And meeting still, for on they come, with sore and weary feet,

As many pilgrims here have marched one hundred miles of road,

To meet with brother sufferer's, and ease their weary load ;

And underneath their cloaks and plaids, like innocence that charms,

Might at chance times there have been heard the clinking clank of arms -

Not that they with intention came to quarrel or to fight,

Yet if attacked, to bold defend themselves and friends with might.

Their roof the heaven's canopy, immense in its dark blue,

Their seats the knolls of flowery grass, so beautiful to view;

The sun in its Spring strength shone out and warmed the pure May air,

Kept tempered by a genial breeze, as if in special care;

A perfect Bethel, where the God of Scotland's faith did shine,

And every soul there met that day felt touch with the divine.

On Saturday, Blackadder well God's message on them pressed,

"And to the thousands gathered there, proclaimed the coming feast,

Which, from far off old homes and glens, had many people come,

With hungering souls it to partake, beneath the sky's fair dome.

Black woeful days for Scotland these, when Scotsmen had to band,

And in the fields to celebrate this feast with arms in hand ;

And on the hill tops place videttes, armed watchers, bold and brave,

With horsemen farther off to give alarm in time to save

The congregation from attack of fierce and brutal men,

And give them time to make for fight, or fly to caves and glen.

But neither man nor beast disturbed the pious multitude,

That worshipped God for three whole days within this solitude.

At night they shelter found in farms and villages around,

In little parties well arranged with watchers all well found.

On Sabbath morning well refreshed by a night's good repose,

They each in prayer God address, ask safety from all foes ;

Then to the chosen place they went, they had set to fulfil,

The Lord's command, "Remember Me," according to his will.

O what a sight was there that day beside this little stream,

Where tables for the work were set, did more of heaven seem

Than of the earth - so bright, so pure, the snow white linen shone

Like streams of glory - over all God's peace was beaming on.

How beautiful was earth and sky upon that Sabbath day,

The air so calm, so soft and clear, the rugged landscape lay

So clear, videttes on hills far off could see six miles around,

That to the congregation gave a trust and quiet profound.

The moorland stretching far away in brown and bluish hue,

With patches of the new-born green, gave pleasure to the view

And far-off knolls that broke the sight raised feelings in the mind,

Of God and that eternal life man's faith so yearns to find,

As knolls and mist the landscape dims, and shuts out from the eye,

Yet those that know it see it still, though hid from searchers nigh,

So does mortality shut out eternity from view,

From sons of clay, yet eyes of faith can brightly pierce it through.

Here on the ear come from the moor the plaintive plover's cry;

The whaup's shrill whistle seems to break from out the upper sky,

All aiding their devotions warm, and make their feeling rise

To the Creator of them all, so sweet unto their eyes.

Within the glade, now all composed, in sacred concert sweet,

The human voice alone is heard-four thousand voices meet

Of freedom loving Scotsmen joined in unity of mind, ,

Who have not turned from Kirk, nor bowed a knee to Bishop kind

From far-off straths through Scotland wide these men have left their home,

To worship God as they desire beneath the sky's high dome.

Good Master Welsh the day begins by giving out a psalm,

One or the chief or David's songs, or weary hearts the balm ;

From full four thousand tongues it swells and rolls throughout the glade,

Till far away on distant moors the dying cadence fade.

Up all arose when he aloud, said, "Brethren, let us pray,"

Then he to God in rich, full voice, that rolled like song away,

Prayed for poor Scotland and her Kirk, in words their hearts to warm,

That it soon might delivered be from cruelty and harm.

Then for the people gathered there he wrestled warm and long,

That God would be their guide and keep them ever true and strong,

And give their Kirk renewed life, a lease or strength and youth,

Rise over all her foes, and be the home of grace and truth.

Then from the Book or Life he took a text, well pondered o'er,

And for two hours he held them all spellbound by its rich store;

Like music floating on the wind, his words their hearts inspire

With darts of that true godly power that stir like tongues of fire,

And made all reel God on that day had to them truly given

The holy quiet, the peace and rest, the very joys of heaven.

The sermon o'er, all were addressed, and members asked to come ,

Unto the tables, all who had brought tokens from their homes ;

Two hundred people then arose from off the green hillside,

Advanced with solemn step, gave proof, and in the seats quiet glide.

Again did the good Master Welsh the first two tables serve,

Calm as in his own parish kirk, from no part did he swerve ;

A psalm was sung, a blessing asked, the people short addressed,

He took the bread and broke it, prayed all present might be blessed ;

Then putting it in elders' hands, who moving forward, gave

To the communicants, who did partake, and solemn, grave,

Did pass it on from hand to hand, until all did partake.

Then lifting up the cup, he did the same devotions make;

As with the bread, so with the cup, the priceless draught he sent

From hand to hand, until it had around the tables went.

The Master Welsh exhorts them all to hold their simple faith,

Nor yield it in those times, but keep it firm and pure till death.

This first lot fervent blessed went out, a second took their place,

And the same service was performed with equal power and grace ;

For sixteen times the tables there had occupants that day -

A day so beautiful and fine scarce met before in May -

And when the last one had been served, O bright and happy scene,

Three thousand and two hundred there had all partakers been ,

Of this pure simple gospel rite, in this fair lonely glade,

And long ere its remembrance will from Scotland's story fade.

True Scotsmen all ; five ministers did service on that day,

Welsh, Blackadder, and Dickson true, brave Riddel and bold Rae ;

All proscribed pastors of the Kirk, true to the Covenant,

And Presbyterian worship, their knees have never bent

To traitors and tyrannic laws, that press on Scotland sore ;

Will work and hold for Liberty, while life stands to the fore.

Could such a sacrament have been in any land but this

Of Scotland, or by other men than Scots fired not to miss

Performing to the Lord their vow, as they had sworn anant,

With hand upraised to keep it pure by League and Covenant.

And here four thousand Scots had come in presence of the Lord,

And kept the love remembered feast according to His Word,

In happy feeling such as they had never felt before -

The place, the circumstance, did touch their feelings' deepest core,

The deep blue dome of heaven above, the earth in dress of May,

Joined to the genial music chant the burn gave on its way,

All felt that heaven had bent to earth to help them on this day,

To cheer their weary waiting hearts with Faith's bright shining ray.

Now all retired, Hope leading on to the appointed place,

The horsemen formed to guard and guide and threatened danger face,

Until they all were seen again, save in their lodgings found

In farms and villages secure, armed watchers placed around.

Quiet passed the night, the morning came, when all refreshed arose

And worshipped God, as is their wont, after a night's repose.

Each then partook of slight repast, and now the hour was near

To meet, and for the place they went all filled with pious cheer.

In close procession off they march, the horsemen well arrayed

On either flank, and in this form went slow on to the glade ;

Then, as before, on tops of hills the horsemen take their stand,

And vedettes farther off are placed to watch surrounding land.

On Saturday, Blackader did the holy service start,

And now he will the same conclude, to-day, before they part,

With songs of praise and prayer to the august King of heaven,

And thanks that He to them such peace had to their service given.

Then for two hours he held them bound, expounding love and faith,

Rich in the one old simple tale of the Messiah's death

And glorious reign, where they would meet in brotherhood and love,

One family, free from earth and pain, in the new kirk above.

Praise and prayer again ascend, and a blessing warm implored ;

On all the faithful who had come with strong trust in the Lord.

Warm meetings o'er, new friendships formed, they all dispersed for home,

Some, in strong bands, took other paths from that which they had come,

The smaller bands they followed suit; conversed, the way to wile,

As on they marched through glen and moor for many a weary mile,

Yet all rejoicing with great joy that God had been so good

As to allow this gathering of such a multitude,

From all the nooks of Scotland, to show their faith and creed,

In spite or bishop, priest, or cure - a sowing of the seed

That will in Scotland flourish yet, and rise o'er traitor knaves,

When King and bishops, fugitives, will sink to tyrant graves.

CANTO FIFTH

HOWEVER man may droop in health, or sink for want of food,

Be hunted as the fox for life, or sainted with the good,

Ennobled by the King's fair word, or rough dragged to the block

To answer with his head for deeds he daring did provoke,

Or shifting fortune bring the rich within the beggar's line,

And leave them mourning with the poor on edge of life's decline,

So daily ups and downs go on among the human race,

While fate presides with iron hand and stern dispensing face,

While all the time fair Nature throws her fairest smile on all,

And finest flowers their blossoms blow, by field or sheltered wall.

Man little knows the webs that Fate may be hard weaving near

Him and his Course, like spider's net, that breaks a fly's career :

So Lauderdale had beat them all, and like the sun did shine

Above all lights at the King's board, contesting, wit, and wine ;

With greater power he was to leave for Scotland very Soon,

And a great feast was set to give companions bright and boon,

A parting night of laughter, wit, of jollity, and noise,

Such as the King delights to see, and from his heart enjoys.

Ere it arrived, the King in wrath, the Duke one morning spied,

"My Lord! my Lord! what mean those news from Scotland, Charles cried !

Conventicles are being held, which Clavers does declare,

That to disperse them with the troops at hand he cannot dare."

Lies of my enemies, your Grace, I Scotland left in peace,

With most of foes destroyed, nor could the devil them increase ;

As this declares, said Lauderdale, but I to-day will leave

For Scotland, and punish all rogues who could so wild deceive.

But woe to Lauderdale, his clerk had ready in his hand

A letter come from Scotland, that told him of a strong band

Of nobles, lairds, and advocates, that had set off to court,

To impeach him before the King, for failings long and short ;

And of the great conventicle, that for three days had dared

All troops they had. Poor Lauderdale, no wonder he was scared ;

But little time had he to think, how he would turn his hand,

When, led by Duke of Hamilton, arrived the bold Scots band.

They prayed the King to set a time their advocates to hear,

Which he at once agreed to do, and set next day right clear.

Then Lockhart and brave Cunningham, both boldly told the King

That Scotland in ruins lay, a wreck in everything :

"If Lauderdale went on to rule, no man would there be safe

That all were driven to the verge of rising-things looked grave.

The English ministers did stare in strong astonishment,

As the brave advocates exposed old Scotland, torn, and rent

By misgovernment, the worst that ere the dear old State had seen,

And of the gathering of late, that in the moors had been ;

And many things they did accuse him of, how he did teach

False witness to condemn good men, of which they him impeach."

Mackenzie, with the blood-stained brow, he rose, and did demand

"If they impeached the King ? - the best God ever gave this land ;

That to impeach his ministers was doubting the King's word,

Which, if they did - it treason was, the rankest by the Lord! "

Men could commit, and in the presence too, Lockhart, with grief,

Said, "since the King is introduced, he there threw up his brief;"

And Cunningham assenting, they from the case withdrew,

As they to trial might be brought, for telling what was true.

Duke Hamilton in haste arose, to show the cruel state

That Scots landholders now were in, doomed by a sicker fate;

"Responsible for all things done upon their own domain,

Though knowing nothing of the thing, they soon awoke in pain

Of forfeiture, and fines so high, mortgaged the land to pay,

That lands of loyal families do daily pass away

By traps made in the law, the best of people to ensnare;

Thus masters were responsible for hinds beyond their care,

And landlords for their tenants, though a hundred miles away,

Are held accountable for them, by either night or day.

Worse, shares are held out to black rogues, would they go boldly swear

That landlords are disloyal, and with rebels join in prayer

Against the King. I here can prove a blackguard crew were told

They would have slice of my estate, if they would firm and bold

Go swear, I meet with traitors." Here Mackenzie, in uproar,

Cried "the Duke is speaking treason," I have told him so before.

To charge the servants of the King was charging the King's grace -

That Hamilton a rebel is he charged him to his face.

The King here broke the meeting up, and when Hamilton, not slack,

Would shake hands with the King, the King slammed his behind his back,

Turned on his heel, and left the Duke; but soon he changed his run

On hearing English ministers condemn the evils done

By Lauderdale, Mackenzie, and all the hardened lot

Of sordid men that ruin had upon fair Scotland brought.

And not long after, with fair smiles, he Hamilton restored

To favour, and the Duke of York sent down to check the horde

Of men that rule, and soon they from the King a pardon got

For all the ills that they had done, past, present, known, or not.

Duke James of York came down to see that Scotsmen had fairplay,

Appointed by the King, though some said 'twas to get away

From angry English citizens, who heard with dread amaze

That he had sold them to the Pope, so steeped in Popish craze.

The Duke found Scotland not so smooth as the King did believe,

And said it was, when sending James, high honour to receive ;

Nor had James tack nor talent so to bring the quarrel less,

And ere he knew his Government was in a muddled mess.

James, in his wisdom, thought he saw a way that led to peace,

Would bring the disaffected in, their numbers fast decrease,

And so he made of it a law, a catcher, called the test,

A quiet and simple thing, said James, it only makes request

To show your loyalty by oath, a small affair to give,

And ever afterwards in quiet and happy peace to live.

When house grimalkin sees a mouse, O ! how its eyes do shine,

So in the Council shone the eyes or all who did divine

James's far-fetched plan, as they beheld forfeitures in galore,

And rowth of land come to their hands as never came before.

Nor long until the Crown did seize many a fine estate,

Conferred upon the wolves that rule, guerdons to confiscate,

So York's grand healing plan became a law to rob and spoil

Good honest, loyal people, as soon found the good Argyle.

O ! wretched is that nation when its rulers work to rob,

Scotland now this truth did find in many a dastard job ;

No one was safe but those that kneeled and kissed York's plan as sweet,

Scotland was bad before but now her ruin is complete :

And off went York, left Scotland bruised and bleeding on the ground ;

Instead of healing sores he made it one foul festered wound,

Left Highland host and thieving knaves to rob in name of law,

Brought in the blackest time that Scot or Scotland ever saw.

Ah' never had my country been so harassed or beset,

On all her mountains moors and plains two giants stalked blood wet

Black Pillage and grim Massacre their garments loosely hung

Around them dreeping wet with blood, while to them rapine clung -

Their escort, Clavers and his men, who galloped with the pair,

With sword in hand and murder strides drove all into despair.

The law was Clavers' word, his power his red stained company,

The trial, "Sir, you take the test, or instantly you die,"

And death it was - who did but ask its meaning he was shot ;

And for not speaking, poor dumb men were put to death, I wot.

And strange to tell, the more they killed, the hill men more increased,

And Clavers swore he would with hounds hunt them to death like beasts,

For well he loved a moorland hunt - a Covenanter's fall,

His sweetest music death platoons through ring of trumpet call.

While brave men thus were hunted up and shot by York's vile law,

Douglas and Inglis genius planned, a scheme where they would draw,

Wealth to themselves, " to brand the strong, as thieves and robbers then

To the plantations sell them off as law condemned vile men ,

Skippers will wink for a small fee, and soon we will behold

A ready harvest that will fill our saddle bags with gold."

Clavers agreed; and hundreds soon of stout young Scots were sent

To the plantations, felon marked, as thieves and rogues all kent ;

This brought the real rogues piles of wealth, yet the shooting did not stay,

Clavers loved blood more dear than gold and he marched on his way,

Hunting for blood the straths and glens, and hollows in the heath,

Many were found, and few escaped the hill man's moorland death ;

As Clavers and his giants rule the moors with wet blood hand,

Polluting all the springs and streams, distressing dear Scotland.

Still in spite of transportation, in spite of cruel death,

Yet still the Covenanters grew, and brighter burned their faith,

For every man thus seized and shot, three rose to fill his place -

Brave, ready martyrs in the cause, to meet death face to face !

In spirit vision free they rise, from body heezed away,

A poor encumbrance, whose use serves but for earth and day;

In feast of faith they soar aloft, in touch with the divine,

And feel all free of earth and all its wants, its cares, its pine;

Faith wings their souls on ecstacy, and heaven's blessings high

Bend down, until they meet and blend in flowing streams of joy.

These are the men that light the world, make earth worth man's abode,

The men that keep freedom alive, when tyrant's sweeping rod

Come on it with destruction, and roaring like a flood,

They keep a seed preserved, and, brave, do nurture 't with their blood.

Such were the Covenanters, great, as nation ever bore

In human worth, that story gives in all her ancient lore ;

And they will win, though thick the cloud that has them in its gloom ;

Just lift its edge, apply your ear, and hear the tyrant's doom

Pronounced by Peden, of the mist, and Cameron, brave, as true,

And Cargill, filled with fire-streaked faith, where shines the future through ;

Men, like the ancient Hebrew seers, as earnest, stern, and bold

In spiritual sight and faith : God to their eyes unfold -

In the near future-vacant thrones, the Stewart from them fly,

A wanderer upon the earth, and in strange lands to die.

But not content to prophecy - Cargil rose bold and high,

His arm aloft, his hand outspread, fire flashing from his eye,

His long grey locks stream in the wind, he prayed to God with force,

And then in voice that risped at first, as from slight cold felt hoarse,

But rose in ringing tones, distinct, that fell on all with awe,

Seemed as an echo from the clouds, that rang through wood and shaw.

"I, Donald Cargil, servant of the great and living God,

Do cast thee, Charles Stewart, out, away from thy abode ;

Thee to destruction send, and there forever to abide,

From Church and saints I give thee up, with devils vile to hide ;

Also thy servants, who have made the blood of saints to flow

Like water, and have made themselves of God and man the foe ;

Go from the face of God, from throne, and all the good in men

Down to the devil and the damned ; Lord be it so, Amen.

Clavers may hunt those brave Scots men through mountain and morass, Surround them, and with all his skill, starve, murder, sell, harass,

Torture and mutilate good men, drown women no less bold,

Red stain the heath with best Scots blood, and others sell for gold;

The Covenanters now have heard the note of coming harms,

And strong in faith behold the fall of Stewarts, spite of arms.

Still dark and gloomy is the clouds that on loved Scotland lie,

And sends from cottage and from hall many a heart-pierced cry,

As those in power with noisy mirth do fine and confiscate

Both land and means, and turn the whole unto their own estate;

Days dark and drear for Scotland these, that break and set in pain,

Though in deep darkness, on hill tops light glimmers on amain.

The merry monarch, king unfit, scarce knows the evils done,

In Scotland crushed, they to him tell, the Bishops' church has won,

And peace and rest attend it now, as the King wished to see -

So did the brutal Council write - great King the Church is free,

The mitre is respected now, warm loved the bishop's gown,

Except a few weak fanatics all adore King and Crown ;

And all admit there ne'er have been upon the double throne

A King so just as thou, nor one that has such good work done ;

O that thou would for ever live, and never taste of death,

Then would our nation rise above all nations, free of scaith.

CANTO SIXTH

MINIONS may flatter kings and lords, make them believe that death

Fears to touch such exalted heads with his damp mouldy breath,

As hen-pecked Lauderdale tried hard to make the King believe ;

If Charles did, too soon he found they flattered to deceive,

For now, amidst his flatterers, his harem, and his wine,

Came in the "gruesome carle Death," marked Charles with his sign,

And like the poorest beggar born, beneath his blood-stained reign,

The merry monarch had to go, and leave his court and train,

As goes the meanest, and descend into that awful glade,

Where destiny the portal keeps - from death receives the shade ;

And as it formed itself on earth, it does that form receive,

Nor priest, nor gold, can from that doom, the doomed made soul relieve.

Now James is King - the fool that made in Scotland such a mess;

Nor could the power that hedged the throne, make this fool's folly less ;

A convert to the popish fraud, he did his court adorn

With tonsured priests, in cools and gowns, of Englishmen the scorn.

In stout Bess' days strong laws were made against all foreign dress,

But James would do here as he pleased - would a great King do less

For Parliament he had no use, he could keep all things right,

Was he not King by right divine! and he would rule by might.

And rule he did; in Scotland still the shooting raid went on,

For Covenanters no sympathy could come from James' throne

Wherever caught, they were shot down, as outlaws stained in crime,

Enough if found asleep in fields - such was the killing time.

In defence of daughter's virtue, brave fathers were shot down,

The shooting high applauded, as upholding King and crown.

Along with Clavers and his Iambs were Earlshill and Lagg,

And a few others of less fame, that neither bog nor hag

Could escape search, that fugitives might be found out and slain,

Till not a Presbyterian face in Scotland would remain.

And many noble deeds were done, heroic in the strife,

And bold and daringly performed, to save relations' life,

When all but in the soldier's hand, with no apparent aid

Have they been saved from a sharp death, by some bright little maid.

One day a farmer's daughter, Jessie Murdoch, aged nine years.

Saw soldiers near her father's cave, which strongly raised her fears ;

And starting, ran away a road, that led from where he lay,

Which made red handed Lagg to swear, she ran so to convey

Their presence to some Whig: he changed his course, her to pursue,

She by this ruse, her father saved, and six more Scotsmen true.

But daily were red murders done, and good men sold for slaves ;

Yes! scarcely is there moor or moss, that guards not martyrs' graves.

Away from living men's abode where grouse and plovers cry,

And sportsmen meet a crimson sea where shore is lost in sky ;

When August and September take them to the grouse found moor,

And in pursuit of game they through this sea of heather scour ;

And in their windings ever meet the graves of martyred men,

Some hunted Covenanter caught and murdered near this fen,

That hold his grave, now pious marked by boulder or shaped stone,

That tell the cause of death and name by letters cut thereon.

No single stone here marks the spot where these stout martyrs lie .

But has its tale of him below, how he did live and die ;

Of hunts and marvellous escapes by sturdy shepherds told

From sire to son kept and retailed, from those wild days of old.

Of all those old traditions told, the one most wets the eye,

Is that of the two Margarets who did in the Blednock die ;

MacLaughlan ripe in years and worth, strong in bright faith and truth,

And Wilson blossomed in the bloom of maidenhood and youth,

Her nineteenth winter on her head was passing slow away,

Much had she seen, much good had done, oft been the hillmen's stay.

Betrothed to young Ray of Bankend, a youth brave, strong, and true,

But hunted forth to live in caves, 'midst storms and wet and dew;

Her father a God-fearing man, with broad and open mind, -

Ten thousand such in Scotland you on any day may find ;

But in these dark vile killing times he to Bishops made comply,

Did regular attend their church with peace-desiring eye.

Upon an early night in March a mighty storm did roar,

Of wind and snow that must blind all that tried to cross the moor;

Margaret, left last, prepares for bed, when startled by a tap,

Upon the window, keeping quiet, again she hears the rap.

This time she started, now she knew her lover, young Bankend,

Her own betrothed, and also son of her dear father's friend ;

Her heart beat fast, for had she not late pressed into her ear

By her mother, to let him go, and his own burden bear ;

But in a night of such dread storm how could she bid him go,

A course so harsh, her after life would fill with pine and woe.

She quietly slipped butt, unbarred the door, and cannie took him in ;

And when she saw his forlorn state, she felt 'twould have been sin

To obeyed the law; she to him brought the best of ready food

She had at hand, for plenty still was here for doing good,

Warmed and refreshed, he told her how he sought his father's door,

But in the storm had wandered wide and long upon the moor,

Till God in mercy brought him on unto this friendly place,

That he might take farewell for aye of her sweet lovely face,

Or unto better times, at least : he and some friends would leave

Their country soon for foreign lands, though much it did them grieve.

This information vexed her sore, but in such times she knew

Not what an hour or day might take him ever from her view;

Long did they hold converse that night, for much they had to say.

To each, vows renewed, meeting set, if he got safe away,

To return in better days, hope changed darkness into grey -

At last she showed him to a croo, sly-planned, to rest till day.

Next day the storm abated not, more violent it blew,

And Marg'ret did her brother trust, a young man good and true,

Whose sympathy the hillmen had, and he at once perceived

Their duty, as true Christians, and all Ray's wants relieved ;

Kept him concealed for a whole week, nor did their parents know;

Though Agnes, edging on her teens, had pierced the secret through.

The storm had calmed, the weather clear, the moor blown bare for wide,

When young John Ray did feel he must change to its other side,

And shelter seek in gIens away, for a short time to roam,

And though so near he dared not call on parents and his home.

Word was passed round that Lagg's dragoons were searching on the moor,

So close that not a stone was passed, all dens and hags they scour.

Young Ray had been away four hours when Wilson's people saw

Two score of redcoats upon horse, marching in double raw,

And with them, chained each to a horse, four brave and strong young men,

Straight marching upon Wilson's house, like sleuth-hounds on a sten

Of a sprung foe; they soon arrived, when Wilson, conscience clear,

Gave, "good morning, sir," to Lagg, who scowled, demanding with a sneer,

"What Covenanting hound had left his house that morning ear? "

"None," Wilson said in cheery tone. Lagg did by the devil swear,

"That he would find," ordered, matches and thumbkins to be brought,

And soon the farmer's thumbs were in, the cursed machine was wrought,

Which caused the honest farmer cry, then, quick as lightning fell

His family upon their knees, and crying, "stop, we'll tell ! "

Then Marg'ret in few simple words, confessed the truth, and cleared

Her parents, and all there believed the story who it heard.

Her father weeping, gently chide the brave heroic maid,

Lagg cursed - and ordered the three youths that had to Ray lend aid,

To be chained tight, and taken off at once to Wigton jail ;

Their father, earnest, plead their cause, and offered any bail

He could command, but all in vain, he only could relieve

His young daughter - for this Lagg did one hundred pounds receive.

But his old son and daughter dear, were from his keeping torn,

Conveyed to jail; and he strict - there - upon the gospels sworn,

To give them neither food nor bed, if loose, but quickly tell

The nearest magistrate, if he wish all things with him well.

At a safe distance young John Ray beheld all that was done,

Saw the dear maiden of his troth, his heart's love chosen one

Chained to a soldier's foot, and made - on with the horse - to run.

He turned with burning heart, and to a cave unkent to sun

Or moon he fled, and found of hillmen thirty brave young men,

Showed them a plan to rescue friends as Lagg passed through Glen Ken.

Not one refused - four prisoners were brethren of the cave,

Caught when in search of food, then off they march their lives to save;

And knowing all the nearest paths, they had got posted fine,

When Lagg and his dragoons appeared in single Indian line.

They let him fall into their trap, with all his glancing men,

Not one appeared till the dragoons were half-way up the glen

On narrow path, where none could turn, then armed men did appear

Before, behind, and high above, with pointed rifles clear,

Lagg saw that he was in a trap, and caused his drums to roll

A parley; asking to get off - by giving their parole.

On conditions cautious and clear, agreement soon was made,

All tied in pairs, they were to march to Edinburgh, nor raid

Upon the Covenanters, nor to leave fair Edinburgh

For one full month; or they would have such broken oaths to rue.

The bargain soon was put in force by a few brave Scotsmen,

And tied in pairs, all Lagg's dragoons were prisoners near the glen.

O! how Lagg crunched his teeth and cursed, when he and Johnston found

Themselves like common soldiers, together firmly bound ;

Firm tied in pairs, their hands behind, their horse loose on the lea ;

The hillmen ordered them to march, and let Edina see

A sight for once ; but though this had been in agreement made ;

A curate cut the leaders' bands - this part they disobeyed,

But otherways they kept the troth of soldiers on parole,

And in their place came Clavers, now commandant of the whole.

Their comrades free, the hillmen back into the cavern went,

And Marg'ret Wilson was with care to good MacLaughlan sent -

A pious Christian woman and Covenanter good,

Who lived a quiet and noiseless life in peaceful solitude.

When it was known Lagg and his men were prisoners on parole

To Covenanters, Oh! how raged and burned each tyrant's soul ;

But power arose, and orders gave for thrice five hundred men

To scour this place both far and near, nor leave out bush or den Unsearched that might a rat conceal, and firm came power's command

To shoot up all that did refuse the test whate'er their stand.

Bad as poor Scotland was before, death reigned now all around.

From morn to e'en platoons were heard, from all airts came the sound;

Before the parole month was out that held Lagg and his men,

Eight of his brave young conquerors lay dead in moor and fen.

Among them brave John Rae, who had come out one night to call

On Marg'ret Wilson, his betrothed, nor had their peace been small ;

With good MacLaughlan they had spent a blessed and happy night,

In which they felt their souls illumed with heaven's purest light.

As lovers, in such times, they felt dark melancholy press

Upon their bliss, and, spite of hope, tinge present happiness ;

A long sweet night they had, but now John must go cross the moor,

Though well they knew in ilka path did lynx eyed soldiers scour ;

But confident in knowing all the many mazy ways,

John went away in cheery trust and hope of better days.

A pleasant dream had seized his mind, a dream of future time,

In which he and his Margaret lived, an ideal, fair, sublime ;

Whether the vision took away his mind from dangers seen,

(Such things with men occur each day, and will be as has been)

I cannot say - but ere he knew, he was felled down and bound,

And saw two score of horsemen there, sharp, falling in around ;

And three stout comrades of the cave, bound tightly met his view;

But, horror! O ! he quick perceived them marching on the Croo,

Where he had left more than his life, his heart's true dearest part,

A prisoner - what could he do but pray, and feel, and smart !

Nor did he need to ponder long, the cot soon came in view;

And not long after, of his own drear destiny he knew.

The cot surrounded - out the two good women then were brought,

Secured by guard of wicked men; then Claverhouse was sought,

And soon among them he appeared, and quietly sitting down,

Said, "bring the prisoners forward," with a menacing frown.

Unto them said -" You take the test." No ! " rang from each, loud, clear ;

Cried Clavers, "Take the women back, a sergeant's squad bring here,

Move off the prisoners ten yards." " Hounds now, by the King's coat,

You take the test." "No! not for life. Then, by God, be you shot"

No time for praise or prayer here, one roar athort the moor,

So rapid, Wilson did not know, until it all was o'er,

Then with a piercing shriek she from her blood-stained keeper ran,

And flung herself on John Rae's breast, and kissed his cheeks, now wan.

To hearts of all - love scenes as this - so tenderly endears,

That even hardened soldiers cheeks, that saw, were wet with tears ;

But Clavers swore, that if he did his duty as he ought,

Her and her soldier keeper both, should instantly be shot.

Instead, gave trumpeteers command to sound the call to horse,

And with the women soon he shaped for Wigton jail his course.

I will not stay to draw the pain, the two lone women bore,

Upon this cruel journey; still, insulted more and more ;

Yet not for long; they soon were tried, and by vile judges found

Guilty of treason in five acts, and sentenced to be drowned

In the full tide next day. Then back to jail they both were sent,

The old and young, quite cheery now, to leave earth well content.

The eleventh day of May arose, the fairest of the Spring,

The sun shone bright on a calm earth - the birds with pleasure sing ;

The Blednock quietly moved along, to reach the Solway shore -

All Nature smiled as if that day no horror held in store.

Though Nature looked as if she would have one fine day in rest,

Not so with man, storm raged on fire in every Scotsman's breast

That lived here by the Blednock's mouth, and knew that there to-day,

A deed was to be done, that never could be washed away,

But will descend from age to age, as parents children tell,

The dreadful deed of shame that here upon old Scotland fell ;

A maiden in the bloom of youth, a matron ripe in age,

Were by the law condemned, and drowned, to please tyrannic rage;

Because they would not bend the knee, to mitres, cloaks and stoles,

And tyrants thinking more of these, than saving human souls.

The stakes are ready, steeples, chains, the tide is on the flow;

From jail the two brave Marg'rets come, calm, singing clear and low

Their favourite psalm so cheery, they do to all appear,

So far above the things of earth, God does their burdens bear;

Upon His breast they lean their trust, and all who this have done,

Have never lost, but in full light been conquerers and won.

Arrived - MacLaughlan first was chained, firm to the outmost stake ;

And to the inmost Wilson next, made firm as hands could make.

O what a sight for Scotsmen's eyes, to see each tide wave spring

A little higher on each breast, while calm and sweet they sing :

As calm as when in cottage, they did praise and worship God,

Who now supports them in this hour of trial, bears their load ;

Now one voice fails to keep in time, MacLauchlan's head drops low

Into the flood; and soon life ends with earth, and all its woe.

Still Margaret Wilson lives, her throat from the salt water clears,

Sang on so calm, that not a cheek was there unwet with tears ;

But soon the water conquers life. O cruel! cruel ! ! death,

That still delays, and still moves on, yet stronger rises faith,

Above earth's pain, and fear of death, and makes the soul rejoice,

The ears to hear, the eyes to see, the welcome hand and voice ;

And heaven open to receive their spirit's from earth's shore ;

Nor long to wait, the maid's head drops, and with earth all is o'er.

Then sad and sick the people fled for home, and strong men sware ;

Stern hatred to the Bishop's gown, and before God declare

To drive them and their Church away - the day that God will give

To do this work, and that He will give it - sure as we live.

CANTO SEVEN

Now James he reigns, a papist King, politically blind,

Nor does he see the progress made within the British mind,

Since failure of his father's work, and Cromwell's crushing power,

Which gave the nation lessons sharp, to use in needy hour,

Like distant thunder heard afar, low rumbling in the air ;

So fell the shots on Scotland's moors, upon the English ear.

Though James proclaims indulgence in worship of a kind,

It was to help his papist friends, no freedom stirs his mind,

To help Scots Presbyterians who stand by Covenant,

But orders all to be destroyed, nor to them freedom grant.

Duke Lauderdale is long retired and lives in private life,

A drunken gormand - a poor slave, sore henpicked by his wife,

A greedy vixen seizing all that came within her hold,

Would even sell her old lord off for a return of gold,

And days when fines and forfeits came by straining of the law,

And filled her purse to bursting. Now from it she had to draw

To meet accounts, which made her mad, begrudging her old sot

His food and drink; and cat-like, wild, they daily scratched and fought.

Lord Murray now is chancellor, of potent race and great -

And Scotland rules as James directs, to clean the stalls of state,

And stamp out all conventicles, and every Westland whig -

An order issued monthly since the fight at Bothwell Brig ;

Given once more by pious James and promptly put in force,

By all commanders present sent at head of foot and horse,

To shoot down every man they found on either moor or dell,

That did refuse to take the test, their name and dwelling tell.

Thus on the moors and rugged glens the murdering went on,

That scarce a house in western shires but o'er the dead had moan;

Thus while they hunt on to the death all Covenanters brave,

Those hunted people oft denounce the tyrant and the slave.

Like ancient prophets in some cave high up on Lebanon,

Watching the monarchs reigning round and all their going on,

Until they see their cups o'erflow in misrule and in crime,

Then like a spirit from some tomb unbound to earth and time,

Come from their cave, and sharp and fierce denounce a monarch's doom -

A nation's death, then disappear as engulphed by the tomb.

Thus did the Covenanters, as Peden and other men,

They leave their shelters on the moor, their coverts in the glen,

And near some camp they loud proclaim, James and the Stewart race,

The doomed of heaven, never more with kings to hold a place.

In vain dragoons do hunt the moors and watch on every road,

To seize the prophet lightened now of his prophetic load ;

And when they think he is far off, his loud toned voice is heard,

Close to their camp like trumpet blast proclaiming sin's reward.

Then trumpets ring and orders roar, " Seize him alive or dead !

Be nimble men, a thousand marks is promised for his head."

Yet strange! in spite of horse and foot he flies them like a dream,

Which makes the hillman to rejoice, and in their pleased eyes gleam.

The pious James now sees himself the chosen son of heaven,

To give back Britain to the Pope and heal its wounds sore riven ;

But in the midst of self-applause and priests' plots in demand,

James like the king of Babylon is startled by a hand -

Not writing on the palace wall, but painting on his brain,

Queer jumping imps and mocking shapes that edge his joy with pain.

When High Chancellor of Scotland, James' wisdom planned the test,

An act to settle all Scots ills, bring to all peace and rest ;

Instead it plunged poor Scotland in such peril as no state

Had ever felt, and crushed all down as struck by doom of fate.

But while its tortures were confined to Covenanters and

To Presbyterians despoiled, James thought the work done grand,

But now before himself it starts with blood wet beak and wings,

Fresh from Scotch moors, and now he sees his error which it brings, "

James would the army officer with papist, but his test

Stands in the way; James great in plans, of wise new plans possessed,

Is he not king and holds the power to grant all indulgence

From any law, and he henceforth will with the test dispense,

Put papist in the army and all offices of state,

And be like Louis King of France, a monarch wise and great,

Not tied to factious parliaments, but free as tide and wave,

As every king should be Who reigns to keep his people safe.

Thus James declared, but England now awakened by the scud

Of shots from Scotland's moors red wet with best of Scotsmen's blood,

Astonished see with opened eyes the road James is inclined

To drive them in, and with strong chains them to his new car bind.

Thus when we have ourselves to go and march with the forlorn,

Who long have led we sympathize with much that they have borne,

The Covenanters long in front denounced this Stewart race

Unfit to reign tyrannical, to Britain a disgrace ;

The English threatened, now join cry - to hunt them from our shore,

Go where they can priest ridden live, and Britain fool no more.

So throng is James with pious work, laws making by his will,

To be like his frere (king) of France; but James, weak in the skill

Of reading English eyes in wrath, or note them getting hot

At him and his priests going on with popish plans and plot.

He saw it not; deceivers oft are by themselves deceived,

And James work holy, he no doubt most fervently believed

That the Lady of Loretto was working for his house ;

Had worked a miracle so plain, it would the faithless souse,

And doing one for his staunch house, would she not do a score,

To raise in England the true Church - ay, that she would and more.

James, living in this Popish mist, has neither fear nor quail

To put the Primate and six Bishops of England into jail ;

And when the judges set them free, declared the King was wrong

By English law, a cheer went up from London loud and long ;

And by all England taken up, with such a joyous roar,

Unnerved "Our Lady" so that she, in sad miscarriage, bore

One hundred "still-born" miracles. "Had these come flee from scaith,

Right and matured," said James, "my Church had been the nation's faith."

When it was told a strong Dutch fleet was putting men on shore,

Led by the Prince of Orange, come to end James's ravelled splore,

The palace was demoralised ; first off one courtier ran,

Another, and another, till James had not left a man.

Left thus, he knew not what to do - then he, too, ran away,

And then the nation in its joy took a bright holiday.

Thus, after years of wicked work, went down this Stewart line, -

Two reigns as bad as earth e'er saw in making subjects pine,

As Scotland felt their cruel fangs, near desolation brought ;

And all the devil's work that men in vile inventions sought

To crush the Presbyterians out - uproot them, Kirk and name,

And make their place a blank on earth, their memory a shame.

Now foes are down, and Scotland up, her clothing all her own,

And Presbyterian William, loved, sits on the British throne.

Now let the people all rejoice ! the hard fought fight is won !

James marches out, and Liberty with William marches in ;

From tyrant power and tyrant fangs all Britain is relieved,

And in their place a home-born birth of liberty received -

A birth whose natal home is found embowered in Britain's isle,

And guarded by her noble sons, true offspring of her soil,

Since England's barons, pointing each at John's throat with his sword,

And made the waggling King in fear to pledge his royal word

In Magna Charta, work divine! yet lesser good than when

Great Wallace defied Edward's power with a few peasant men.

Hence on, true Liberty has found in British hearts a home ;

Though hunted oft by tyrant foes, forth with field beast to roam,

As was the Covenanters, yet they, by their lives, made sure

Our liberty in Kirk and State, and left the means secure.

And now all men possess the right, the liberty to live

Free as the air, when all will to the rights of others give

That grand respect, which they expect according to their own :

Foundation of all liberty ! when lost, all, all is gone.

Now, by the twenty years and eight of torture, pain, and death,

Where Covenanter wavered not, but stood firm to his faith,

And in the conquerors they were, have left their deeds to stand

A beacon light to all true men in need of cheering hand ;

See how it grows ! in Britain spread, as lasting as her oak,

Baptised in blood with fire and sword, and traitor's cruel knock,

And now of age, she holds aloft her martyr flag unfurl'd,

A British giantess, she moves to liberalise the world.

Bearing to all that liberty that moved great Wallace's heart,

And with her sea ways send it on unto earth's utmost part -

That Liberty that, under Bruce, made Scotsmen beat the Pope

With all his power, gave Europe light to live in strength and hope;

That Liberty the pilgrim sires bore from the British tree,

And planted in the land beyond the broad Atlantic sea -

The bright United States - a power, of all powers ever seen .

For rapid growth to greatness, stands first that on earth has been.

From British blood the rise was sure, the seed hand picked in prime,

By men stern bound to Liberty, whose fame will outlast time ;

Not far behind, close on its heels, see old Dominion come

As brave, as hardy, has raised up, for liberty a home ;

As bright, as fair as any yet, that from the mother sprung,

And like that mother beautiful, and ever fair and young ;

And with them two young sisters emerging from their teens,

Australia, and New Zealand, two blooming graceful Queens.

Thus from the dear old mother, has liberty been borne,

By noble men athort the earth, though often maimed and torn ;

And now from her tide-surging shores to far away Japan,

The love of liberty has spread, and stirs the mind of man ;

Its fire spreads on, and warms the hearts, of Chinese and Hindoo

A docile, quiet, peace-loving race, long of short-sighted view,

By tyranny, long robbed, and drove about like timid sheep,

Now fired by British liberty, see them from darkness leap

And hail the British giantess, who now before them stands

With proffered help, to break their chains, and free their native lands ;

They seize her dazzling flag, and high o'er head it flows unfurled ;

So on it moves, and will on move, and liberalise the world.

NOTE. *

IN describing the quarrel that the Papacy carried on with the Scots in the time of Bruce, there is no exaggeration. The Scots appear to have been bad Papists; Scotch historians blame the English as the instigators of the quarrel. This is questionable, the quarrel was an old one. In the reign of Alexander II, it went as far as laying an Interdict by the Pope on the Scotch Church. It is said that this was settled, but the same quarrel broke out in the next reign, Alexander III, and about the same thing, the taxing of the Scots by a legate from the Pope. The Scots refused to admit him into Scotland, but sent 1000 marks to the Pope as a present, and to join the French in their expedition to the Holy Land 5000 men. The death of the Scots King happening soon after, followed by the wars of succession, the Papacy did nothing to punish the insult offered to the legate ; but soon after order was restored and Bruce King, came the order to Bruce from the Pope to make a two years' truce with England. It appears to me that this was done to fasten a quarrel on Bruce and his people; at this time when this proud imperious power had humbled England and France, it is most unlikely that it would take a bribe from England to insult the Scots, as historians say. This time two Cardinals were sent, and armed with a Pope's Bull, to let loose all the thunders of the Papacy upon the Scots in case of disobedience. The result is well known: the Cardinals, afraid to trust the Scots, sent a Father Newton, whom Bruce ordered to leave Scotland, which he did. Then the Cardinals from York did as the poem describes. The Scotch clergy sided with Bruce, set the Pope's Interdict at defiance, and attended to their duties; and the Parliament at Scone, in 1318, declared the independence of the Scotch Church.

The Pope ordered all Christians to cease dealing with the Scots, as an accursed people; in this he was badly obeyed, the Dutch and Hollanders refusing altogether. After two years of cursing Bruce and the Scots, the Pope had made nothing of it, and through the King of France some kind of understanding was arrived at, the Pope pretending that the English had deceived him, and the Scots acknowledged the Pope as the spiritual head of the Church. It appears that, Bruce dying an excommunicated person, no real settlement of the quarrel was made, it was allowed to drop. From the answer of Maitland of Lethington to the Duke of Norfolk, when meeting at York as Commissioners to try Mary Queen of Scots, that "Scotland was a more independent kingdom than England, that, until lately, had paid Peter's Pence to Rome," the inference is clear, the Scots had never done so. From this it is fair to infer that the quarrel with Bruce and the Scots was allowed to die out after the above concession, and that the Scots were the first people that effectively resisted the Pope's pretended authority.

See "History of Scotland" - by Sir Walter Scott - in Constable's Miscellany, where it is treated more at large than elsewhere.

THE END.

* "The Bruce a nobler battle fought," page 4.