Nay — ye should not weep, my children! leave it to the faint and weak;

Sobs are but a woman's weapons - tears befit a maiden's cheek. Weep not, children of Macdonald! weep not thou, his orphan heir; Not in shame, but stainless honor, lies thy slaughtered father there. Weep not- - but when years are over, and thine arm is strong and

sure,

And thy foot is swift and steady on the mountain and the muir,
Let thy heart be hard as iron, and thy wrath as fierce as fire,
Till the hour when vengeance cometh for the race that slew thy sire!
Till in deep and dark Glenlyon rise a louder shriek of woe,

Than at midnight, from their eyry, scared the eagles of Glencoe ;
Louder than the screams that mingled with the howling of the blast,
When the murderers' steel was clashing, and the fires were rising

fast;

When thy noble father bounded to the rescue of his men,

And the slogan of our kindred pealed throughout the startled glen; When the herd of frantic women stumbled through the midnight

snow,

With their fathers' houses blazing, and their dearest dead below!
Oh, the horror of the tempest, as the flashing drift was blown,
Crimsoned with the conflagration, and the roofs went thundering
down!

Oh, the prayers, the prayers and curses, that together winged their

flight

From the maddened hearts of many, through that long and woful

night!

Till the fires began to dwindle, and the shots grew faint and few,
And we heard the foeman's challenge only in a far halloo :
Till the silence once more settled o'er the gorges of the glen,
Broken only by the Cona plunging through its naked den.
Slowly from the mountain summit was the drifting veil withdrawn,
And the ghastly valley glimmered in the gray December dawn.
Better had the morning never dawned upon our dark despair!
Black amidst the common whiteness rose the spectral ruins there :
But the sight of these was nothing more than wrings the wild dove's
breast,

When she searches for her offspring round the relics of her nest.
For in many a spot the tartan peered above the wintry heap,
Marking where a dead Macdonald lay within his frozen sleep.
Tremblingly we scooped the covering from each kindred victim's

head,

And the living lips were burning on the cold ones of the dead.

far more wretched I than they,

Left the maiden with her lover, left the mother with her son.
I alone of all was mateless
For the snow would not discover where my lord and husband lay.
But I wandered up the valley, till I found him lying low,
With the gash upon his bosom, and the frown upon his brow
Till I found him lying murdered where he wooed me long ago!

Woman's weakness shall not shame me why should I have tears to shed?

Could I rain them down like water, O my hero! on thy head -
Could the cry of lamentation wake thee from thy silent sleep,
Could it set thy heart a-throbbing, it were mine to wail and weep!
But I will not waste my sorrow, lest the Campbell women say
That the daughters of Clanranald are as weak and frail as they.
I had wept thee, hadst thou fallen, like our fathers, on thy shield,
When a host of English foemen camped upon a Scottish field—
I had mourned thee, hadst thou perished with the foremost of his
name,

When the valiant and the noble died around the dauntless Græme!
But I will not wrong thee, husband, with my unavailing cries,
Whilst thy cold and mangled body, stricken by the traitor, lies;
Whilst he counts the gold and glory that this hideous night has won,
And his heart is big with triumph at the murder he has done.
Other eyes than mine shall glisten, other hearts be rent in twain,
Ere the heath-bells on thy hillock wither in the autumn rain.
Then I'll seek thee where thou sleepest, and I'll veil my weary
head,

Praying for a place beside thee, dearer than my bridal-bed :

And I'll give thee tears, my husband, if the tears remain to me, When the widows of the foeman cry the coronach for thee!

[JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES was born in Cork, Ireland, in 1784, and died In 1862. He was the author of "The Hunchback," "Virginius," "William Tell," "The Wife," and several other plays, some of which have been highly successful. He was originally an actor and teacher of elocution, but in his latter years he was a zealous and eloquent preacher of the Baptist denomination. The following extract is from "William Tell," a play founded on the leading

incidents in the life of the Swiss patriot of that name. Gesler, (pronounced Ges'ler,) is the Austrian governor of Switzerland, and Sarnem one of his officers.]

[WILLIAM TELL, ALBERT, AND GESLER.]

5

GESLER. What is thy name?

TELL. My name?

It matters not to keep it from thee now:

My name is Tell.

GES. Tell! - William Tell?

TELL. The same.

GES. What! he so famed 'bove all his countrymen

For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat?

And such a master of his bow, 't is said

10 His arrows never miss! - Indeed - I'll take

15

Condition.

TELL. Name it.

GES. I would see you make

A trial of your skill with that same bow
You shoot so well with.

TELL. Name the trial you

Would have me make.

As though instinctively you guessed it.

TELL. Look upon my boy! What mean you? Look
My boy as though I guessed it! - Guessed the trial
You'd have me make! Guessed it

25 Instinctively! You do not mean no You would not have me make a trial of

My skill upon my child! — Impossible!

I do not guess your meaning.

GES. I would see

30 Thee hit an apple at the distance of

A hundred paces.

TELL. Is my boy to hold it?

no

upon

5

10

GES. No.

TELL No! I'll send the arrow through the core !

GES. It is to rest upon his head.

TELL. Great Heaven, you hear him!

GES. Thou dost hear the choice I give —
Such trial of the skill thou art master of,

Or death to both of you; not otherwise
To be escaped.

TELL. O monster!

GES. Wilt thou do it?

ALBERT. Ke will! he will!

TELL. Ferocious monster!

A father murder his own child.

GES. Take off

15 His chains, if he consent.

TELL. With his own hand!

GES. Does he consent?

- Make

ALB. He does. [Gesler signs to his officers, who proceed to take off Tell's chains. Tell all the time unconscious what

20 they do.]

TELL. With his own hand!

Murder his child with his own hand - This hand!

The hand I've led him, when an infant, by!

'Tis beyond horror 't is most horrible.

25 Amazement! [His chains fall off] What's that you've

30

done to me.

Villains! put on my chains again. My hands

Are free from blood, and have no gust for it,

That they should drink my child's! Here! here! I'll not Murder my boy for Gesler.

The arrow through thy brain

or, missing that,

Shoot out an eye—or, if thine eye escape,

Mangle the cheek I've seen thy mother's lips

5

10

Cover with kisses!

Hit thee-hit a hair

Of thee, and cleave thy mother's heart

GES. Dost thou consent?

TELL. Give me my bow and quiver.

GES. For what?

TELL. To shoot my boy!

ALB. No, father - no!

To save me! - You'll be sure to hit the apple-
Will you not save me, father?

TELL. Lead me forth

I'll make the trial!

ALB. Thank you!

TELL. Thank me!
You know for what?

Do

I will not make the trial,

15 To take him to his mother in my arms,

20

And lay him down a corpse before her!

GES. Then he dies this moment- and you certainly Do murder him whose life you have a chance

To save, and will not use it.

TELL. Well - I'll do it: I'll make the trial.

25 And Heaven - unless its thunders muttered at

The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it! Give me