Page images

torture, dare I abandon', dare I think the impious thought of abandoning, the cause of the City of Holiness.

2. Titus'! in the name of that Being to whom the wisdom of earth is folly, I adjure you to beware! Jerusalem is sacred. Her crimes have often wrought her misery'; often has she been trampled by the armies of the stranger'. But she is still the city of the Omnipotent'; and never was blow inflicted on her by man' that was not terribly repaid'. The Assyrian came, the mightiest power of the world: he plundered her temple', and led her people into captivity': How long was it before his empire was a dream, his dynasty extinguished in blood", and an enemy on his throne'? The Persian came': from her protector he turned into her oppressor'; and his empire was swept away like the dust of the desert! The Syrian smote her'; the smiter died in agonies of remorse; and where is his kingdom now? The Egyptian smote her': and who now sits on the throne of the Ptolemies?

3. Pompey came,—the invincible, the conqueror of a thousand cities, the light of Rome; the lord of Asia, riding on the very wings of Victory. But he profaned her temple; and from that hour he went down',-down like a millstone plunged into the ocean'. Blind counsel', rash ambition', womanish fears', won upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome! Where does he sleep? What sands were colored with his blood ? The universal conquerer died a slave', by the hand of a slave' ! Crassus came at the head of the legions: he plundered the sacred vessels of the sanctuary. Vengeance followed him', and he was cursed by the curse of God'. Where are the bones of the robber and his host? Go'; tear them from the jaws of the lion and the wolf of Parthia', -their fitting tomb'!

4. You' too, son of Vespasian', may be commissioned for the punishment of a stiff-necked and rebellious people. You may scourge our naked vice by force of arms'; and then you may return to your land exulting in the conquest of the fiercest enemy of Rome'. But shall you escape the common fate of the instrument of evil ? Shall you see a peaceful old age? Shall a son of yours ever sit


the throne ? Shall not rather some monster of your blood efface the


your virtues, and inake Rome, in bitterness of soul, curse the Flavian name?





1. O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased a while,

And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, When leagued Oppression pour'd to Northern wars Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet-horn; Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland—and to man!
2. Warsaw's last champion' from her hight survey'd',

Wide o'er the fields', a waste of ruin laid';
“O Heaven' !” he cried, “my bleeding country save'!
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ?
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,
Rise', fellow-men'! our country yet remains'!
By that dread name' we wave the sword on high',

And swear for her to live' with her to die' ! 3. He said, and on the rampart-hights array'd

His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd !
Firm-paced and slow', a horrid front they form';
Still as the breeze', but dreadful as the storm';
Low murmuring sounds along the banners fly,
Revenge, or death', the watchword' and reply';
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,

And the loud tocsin toll’d their last alarm ! 4. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few',

From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew':
Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time!
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms', nor mercy in her woe'!
Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,
Closed her bright eye', and curb’d her high career'!
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shriek'd—as Kosciusko fell.

5. The sun went down'; nor ceased the carnage there';

Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air'!
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;
The storm prevails'; the ramparts yield away';
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay';
Hark'! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall',
A thousand shrieks, for hopeless mercy call !
Earth shook'; red meteors flash'd along the sky',

And conscious nature shudder'd at the cry.
6. O righteous Heaven' ! ere Freedom found a grave,

Why slept the sword omnipotent to save' ?
Where was thine arm, 0 Vengeance'! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God'?
That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Where was the storm that slumber'd till the host
Of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coast,
Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow

And heaved an ocean on their march below? 7. Departed spirits of the mighty dead' !

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled' !
Friends of the world' ! restore your swords to man';
Fight in his sacred cause and lead the van'!
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone',
And make her arm puissant as your own'!
Oh, once again to Freedom's cause return
The patriot Tell,—the Bruce of Bannockburn'!




1. You speak like a boy'; like a boy', -who thinks the old gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the young sapling. Can I forget that I have been branded as an outlaw, stigmatized as a traitor, a price set on my head as if I had been a wolf, my family treated as the dam and cubs of the hill-fox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and insult,—the very name which came to me from a long and noble line of martial ancestors; denounced, as if it were a spell to conjure up the devil with ? And they shall find that the name they have dared proscribe—that the name of Mac Gregor—is a spell to raise the devil withal'. They shall hear of my vengeance, that would scorn to listen to the story of my wrongs'.

2. The miserable Highland drover, bankrupt, barefooted, stripped of all, dishonored and hunted down, because the avarice of others grasped at more than that poor all could pay, shall burst on them in an awful change. They that scoffed at the grovelling worm, and trod upon him, may cry and howl when they see the stoop of the flying and fiery-mouthed dragon. But why do I speak of all this? Oh, sir, it frets my patience to be hunted like an otter, or a seal', or a salmon upon the shallows', and that by my very friends and neighbors': and to have as many swordcuts made, and pistols flashed at me, as I had this day in the ford of Avondow, would try a saint's temper, much more a Highlander’s, who are not so famous for that good gift, as you may have heard.

3. You must think hardly of us; and it is not natural it should be otherwise. But remember, at least, we have not been unprovoked: we are a rude and an ignorant, and, it may be, a violent and passionate, but we are not a cruel, people. The land might be at peace and in law for us, did they allow us to enjoy the blessings of peaceful law. But we have been persecuted"; and if, as you say, persecution maketh wise men mad', what must it do to men like us', living as our fathers did a thousand years since, and possessing scarce more lights than they did'? Can we view their bloody edicts against us their hanging'

, heading', hounding, and hunting down an ancient and honorable name'-as deserving better treatment than that which enemies give to enemies' ?

4. Here I stand,—have been in twenty frays, and never hurt man', but when I was in hot blood': and yet they would betray me and hang me, like a masterless dog, at the gate of any great man that has an ill will at me. You are a kind-hearted and honorable youth', and understand', doubtless', that which is due to the feelings of a man of honor. But the heather that I have trod upon when living', must bloom over me when I am dead'; my heart would sink', and my arm would shrink and wither like fern in the frost', were I to lose sight of my native hills'; nor has the world a scene that would console me for the loss of the rocks and cairns, wild as they are, that you see around us.

5. And Helen, Helen,—what would become of her, were It leave her, the subject of new insult and atrocity? Or how could she bear to be removed from these scenes where the remem

1 brance of her wrongs is aye sweetened by the recollection of her revenge? I was once so hard put at by my great enemy, as I may well call him, that I was forced e'en to give way to the tide, and removed myself, and my people, and my family from our dwellings in our native land, and to withdraw for å time into Mac Callum Moore's country; and Helen made a lament on our departure as well as Mac Rimmon himself could have framed ty-and sb piteously sad and woesome, that our hearts almost broke as we listened to her : it was like the wailing of one for the mother that bore him; and I would not have the same touch of the heartbreak again,-no, not to have all the lands that were ever owned by Mac Gregor.




1. I LOVE to hear thine earnest voice,

Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,

Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou ’mindest me of gentlefolks,-

Old gentlefolks are they,-
Thou sayest an undisputed thing

In such a solemn way.

2. Thou art a female', Katydid' !

I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes',

So petulant and shrill
I think there is a knot of you

Beneath the hollow tree,-
A knot of spinster Katydids:

Do Katydids drink tea?

3. Oh, tell me, where did Katy live,

And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,

And yet so wicked, too?

« PreviousContinue »