Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your rightfu', lawfu' King!

For wha'll be King but Charlie ?

Then here's a health to Charlie's cause,
And be't complete an' early;

His very name our heart's blood warms;
To arms for Royal Charlie!

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Ye're a' the welcomer early;

Around him cling wi' a' your kin;

For wha'll be King but Charlie?

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your rightfu', lawfu' King!
For wha'll be King but Charlie?

LAMENT FOR CULLODEN

ROBERT BURNS

THERE was terrible slaughter at Culloden. After the battle, the Highlanders lay in heaps upon the ground. Prince Charles was horrorstruck by the sight of the carnage wrought in his behalf. He had not realized that war was so terrible.

The lovely lass o' Inverness,

Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e'en and morn she cries, Alas!
And aye the saut tear blins her ee:

Drumossie moor·

Drumossie day –

A waefu' day it was to me!

For there I lost my father dear,

My father dear, and brethren three.

Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growing green to see:
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's ee!
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou hast made sair
That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.

ENGLAND, WITH ALL THY FAULTS, I LOVE THEE STILL

WILLIAM COWPER

(From "The Task," Bk. II)

THE third George was proud of being English born and English bred. He determined to make himself master of the political situation, and to be king in fact as well as in name. To this end, old and tried counsellors, such as Chatham, were set aside, and new men were called to the ministry, men who would bow to the royal will. The king's arbitrary policy soon involved England in a war with the American colonies and drove the ablest of her statesmen into opposition.

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrained to love thee.

Though thy clime

Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deformed

With dripping rains, or withered by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies
And fields without a flower, for warmer France
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task;
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows with as true a heart
As any thunderer there. And I can feel
Thy follies too, and with a just disdain
Frown at effeminates, whose very looks
Reflect dishonour on the land I love.

How, in the name of soldiership and sense,
Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth
And tender as a girl, all essenced o'er

With odours, and as profligate as sweet,
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,

And love when they should fight-when such as these

Presume to lay their hand upon the ark

Of her magnificent and awful cause?

Time was when it was praise and boast enough
In every clime, and travel where we might,
That we were born her children; praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,

That Chatham's language was his mother tongue,
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own.
Farewell those honours, and farewell with them

The hope of such hereafter! They have fallen
Each in his field of glory; one in arms,
And one in council - Wolfe upon the lap

Of smiling Victory that moment won,

And Chatham, heart-sick of his country's shame!
They made us many soldiers. Chatham still
Consulting England's happiness at home,
Secured it by an unforgiving frown

If any wronged her. Wolfe, where'er he fought,
Put so much of his heart into his act,

That his example had a magnet's force,

And all were swift to follow whom all loved.
Those suns are set. Oh, rise some other such!
Or all that we have left is empty talk
Of old achievements, and despair of new.

PITT AND FOX

SIR WALTER SCOTT

(From the Introduction to " Marmion")

THE arbitrary methods of George III. were possible because Parliament had ceased to represent the nation. Seats in the House of Commons were bought and sold, and the king could carry any measure he chose by the judicious use of money and influence. William Pitt, the son of the "Great Commoner," and Charles Fox led the opposing parties in the House of Commons. Both thought that power should be restored to the people by abolishing the rotten boroughs and giving the right of sending members to the House of Commons to the more populous districts. Working together, the two statesmen might have accomplished this important reform, but their rivalry destroyed all chance of success.

With more than mortal powers endowed,
How high they soared above the crowd!
Theirs was no common party race,
Jostling by dark intrigue for place;
Like fabled gods, their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Looked up the noblest of the land,
Till through the British world were known
The names of Pitt and Fox alone.
Spells of such force no wizard grave
E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave,
Though his could drain the ocean dry,
And force the planets from the sky.
These spells are spent, and, spent with these,
The wine of life is on the lees.

Genius, and taste, and talent gone,

For ever tombed beneath the stone,

Where, taming thought to human pride!

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.

Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
'Twill trickle to his rival's bier;

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry,

"Here let their discord with them die;
Speak not for those a separate doom,
Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb,
But search the land of living men,
Where wilt thou find their like again?"