And ere yon bells beganne to play,
Afar I heard her milking-song."
He looked across the grassy sea,
To right, to left, Ho, Enderby!
They rang The Brides of Enderby.

With that he cried and beat his breast;
For lo! along the river's bed
A mighty eygre reared his crest,

And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
It swept with thunderous noises loud,
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud. ›

And rearing Lindis, backward pressed,'
Shook all her trembling bankes amaine;'
Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung uppe her weltering walls again.

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Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout, -
Then beaten foam flew round about,
Then all the mighty floods were out.

So farre, so fast, the eygre drave,
The heart had hardly time to beat,
Before a shallow seething wave
Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet:
The feet had hardly time to flee
Before it brake against the knee,
And all the world was in the sea.

Upon the roofe we sate that night;
The noise of bells went sweeping by;

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I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church-tower, red and high,A lurid mark, and dread to see;

And awsome bells they were to mee,
That in the dark rang Enderby.

They rang the sailor lads to guide,

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed; And I, my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;

And yet he moaned beneath his breath, "O come in life, or come in death!

O lost! my love, Elizabeth!"

And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare; The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere the early dawn was clear.
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
The lifted sun shone on thy face,
Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea,

A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and mee; But each will mourne his own (she saith) And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,'

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'Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,

Ere the early dews be falling;

I shall never hear her song, "Cusha! Cusha!" all along,

Where the sunny Lindis floweth,

Goeth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth,

Where the water, winding down,
Onward floweth to the town,

I shall never see her more,

Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Shiver, quiver, 221.

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
To the sandy, lonesome shore;
I shall never hear her calling,
“Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow!

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Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow!
Come uppe, Whitefoot! come uppe, Lightfoot!
Quit your pipes of parsley, hollow,
Hollow, hollow!!

Come uppe, Lightfoot! rise and foliow;

Lightfoot! White foot!!

From your clovers lift the head;
Come uppe, Jetty! follow, follow
Jetty, to the milking-shed!"

1863.

176

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE

COME hither, Evan Cameron!
Come, stand behind my knee
I hear the river roaring down
Towards the wintry sea.

There's shouting on the mountain-side,
There's war within the blast

Old faces look upon me,

Old forms go trooping past:" I hear the pibroch wailing Amidst the din of fight,

And my dim spirit wakes again

Upon the verge of night.

T

'T was I that led the Highland host
Through wild Lochaber's snows,

What time the plaided clans came down
To battle with Montrose.

I've told thee how the Southrons fell

Beneath the broad claymore,

And how we smote the Campbell clan
By Inverlochy's shore.

I've told thee how we swept Dundee,

And tamed the Lindsays' pride;

But never have I told thee yet
How the great Marquis died.

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A traitor sold him to his foes;

O deed of deathless shame!

I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet
With one of Assynt's name
Be it upon the mountain's side,
Or yet within the glen,

Stand he in martial gear alone,

Or backed by armèd men

Face him, as thou wouldst face the man
Who wronged thy sire's renown;
Remember of what blood thou art,
And strike the caitiff down!

They brought him to the Watergate,
Hard bound with hempen span,
As though they held a lion there,
And not a fenceless man.

They set him high upon a cart -
The hangman rode below -

They drew his hands behind his back,
And bared his noble brow.

Then, as a hound is slipped from leash,
They cheered the common throng,
And blew the note with yell and shout,
And bade him pass along.

It would have made a brave man's heart.
Grow sad and sick that day,

To watch the keen malignant eyes

Bent down on that array.

There stood the Whig west-country lords,
In balcony and bow;

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