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“O mercy, mercy, noble lord !

But man and horse, and horn and hound, Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry,

Fast rattling on his traces go; “Earn’d by the sweat these brows have pour'd, The sacred chapel rung around In scorching hour of fierce July?”

With, “ Hark away! and, holla, ho !" Earnest the right hand stranger pleads,

All mild, amid the route profane, The left still cheering to the prey,

The holy hermit pour'd his prayer ; Th’impetuous earl no warning heeds,

“ Forbear with blood God's house to stain ; But furious holds the onward way.

Revere his altar, and forbear! Away, thou hound so basely born,

“ The meanest brute bas rights to plead, Or dread the scourge's echoing blow !”

Which wrong'd by cruelty or pride, Then loudly rung his bugle horn,

Draw vengeance on the ruthless head: Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"

Be warn’d at length, and turn aside." So said, so done : a single bound

Still the fair horseman anxious pleads; Clears the poor labourer's humble pale:

The black, wild whooping, points the prey: Wild follows man, and horse, and hound,

Alas! the earl no warning heeds, Like dark December's stormy gale.

But frantic keeps the forward way. And man, and horse, and hound, and horn,

“ Holy or not, or right or wrong, Destructive sweep the field along;

Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; While joying o'er the wasted corn,

Not sainted martyr's sacred song, Fell famine marks the maddening throng.

Not God himself, shall make me turn!" Again uproused, the timorous prey

He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, Scours moss, and inoor, and holt, and hill;

“ Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!” he feels his strength decay,

But off, on wirlwind's pinions borne, And trusts for life his simple skill.

The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. Too dangerous solitude appear'd;

And horse, and man, and horn, and hound, He seeks the shelter of the crowd;

And clamour of the chase was gone; Amid the flock's domestic herd

For hoofs, and howls, and bugle sound, His harmless head he hopes to shroud.

A deadly silence reign'd alone. O’er moss, and moor, and holt, and hill,

Wild gazed th’affrighted earl around; His track the steady bloodhounds trace ;

He strove in vain to wake his horn; O’er moss and moor, unwearied still,

In vain to call; for not a sound The furious earl pursues the chase.

Could from his anxious lips be borne. Full lowly did the herdsman fall;

He listens for his trusty hounds; “ () spare, thou noble baron, spare

No distant baying reach'd his ears: These herds, a widow's little all;

His courser, rooted to the ground, These flocks an orphan's fleecy care ?”

The quickening spur unmindful bears. Earnest the right hand stranger pleads,

Still dark and darker frown the shades, The left still cheering to the prey ;

Dark as the darkness of the grave; The earl nor prayer nor pity heeds,

And not a sound the still invades, But furious keeps the onward way.

Save what a distant torren: gave. “Unmanner'd dog! to stop my sport

High o'er the sinner's humbled head Vain were thy cant and beggar whine,

At length the solemn silence broke; Though human spirits, of thy sort,

And from a cloud of swarthy red, Were tenants of these carrion kine!”

The awful voice of thunder spoke.

Hard run,

Again he winds his bugle horn,

“ Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!” And through the herd, in ruthless scoru,

He cheers his furious hounds to go.

“Oppressor of creation fair!

Apostate spirits' harden'd tool!
Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor!

The measure of thy cup is full.
“ Be chased forever through the wood;

Forever roam th' affrighted wild ;
And let thy fate instruct the proud,

God's meanest creature is his child.”

In heaps the throttled victims fall;

Down sinks their mangled herdsman near.
The murderous cries the stag appal-

Again he starts, new nerved by fear.
With blood besmear'd, and white with foam,

While big the tears of apguish pour
He seeks, amid the forest's gloom,

The humble hermit's ballow'd bower.

'Twas hush'd: one flash, of sombre glare,

With yellow ting'd the forest brown;
Up rose the wildgrave's bristling hair,

And horror chill'd each nerve and bone.

Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill;

keep as closely as possible to his original. The A rising wind began to sing ;

various puns, rude attempts at pleasantry, and disAnd louder, louder, louder still,

proportioned episodes, must be set down to TehuBrought storm and tempest on its wing. di's account, or to the taste of his age.

The military antiquary will derive some amuseEarth heard the call! Her entrails rend;

ment from the minute particulars which the marFrom yawning rifts, with many a yell,

tial poet has recorded. The mode in which the Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend

Austrian men-at-arms received the charge of the The misbegotten dogs of hell.

Swiss was by forming a phalanx, which they deWhat ghastly huntsman next arose,

fended with their long lances. The gallant WinkWell may I guess, but dare not tell;

elried, who sacrificed bis own life by rushing His eye like midnight lightning glows,

among the spears, clasping in his arms as many as His steed the swarthy hue of hell.

he could grasp, and thus opening a gap in these

iron battalions, is celebrated in Swiss history. The wildgrave flies o’er bush and thorn,

When fairly mingled together, the unwieldy length With many a shriek of helpless wo;

of their weapons, and cumbrous weight of their deBebind him hound, and horse, and horn,

fensive armour, rendered the Austrian men-at-arms And, “Hark away, and holla, ho !”

a very unequal match for the light-armed mounWith wild despair's reverted eye,

taineers. The victories obtained by the Swiss over Close, close behind, he marks the throng, the German chivalry, hitherto deemed as formiWith bloody fangs, and eager cry,

dable on foot as on horseback, led to important In frantic fear he scours along.

changes in the art of war. The poet describes the

Austrian knights and squires as cutting the peaks Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,

from their boots ere they could act upon foot, in Till time itself shall have an end :

allusion to an inconvenient piece of foppery, often By day they scour earth’s cavern'd space,

mentioned in the middle ages. Leopold III., ArchAt midnight's witching hour ascend.

duke of Austria, called “ The handsome man-atThis is the horn, and hound, and horse, arms,” was slain in the battle of Sempach, with the That oft the lated peasant hears;

flower of his chivalry. Appall’d he signs the frequent cross,

When the wild din invades his ears. The wakeful priest oft drops a tear

'Twas when among our linden trees

The bees had housed in swarms,
For human pride, for human wo,
When at his midnight mass, he hears

( And gray-hair'd peasants say that these Th’infernal cry of “Holla, ho !”

Betoken foreign arms,)
Then look'd we down to Willisow,

The land was all in flame;
We knew the Archduke Leopold

With all his army came.

The Austrian nobles made their vow,

So hot their hearts and bold, THESE verses are a literal translation of an “ On Switzer carles we'll trample now, ancient Swiss ballad upon the battle of Sempach, And slay both young and old.” fought 9th July, 1386, being the victory by which the Swiss cantons established their independence.

With clarion loud, and banner proud, The author is Albert Tehudi, denominated the

From Zurich on the lake, Souter, from his profession of a shoemaker. He

In martial pomp and fair array, was a citizen of Lucerne, esteemed highly among

Their onward march they make. his countrymen, both for his powers as a Meister

“Now list ye, lowland nobles all singer, or minstrel, and his courage as a soldier ;

Ye seek the mountain strand, so that he might share the praise conferred by

Nor wot ye what shall be your lot Collins on Eschylus, that

In such a dangerous land. -Not alone he nursed the poet's flame, "But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot steel. “I rede ye, shrive you of your sins

Before you further go ; The circumstance of their being written by a

A skirmish in Helvetian hills poet returning from a well-fought field he de

May send your souls to wo.” scribes, and in which his country's fortune was secured, may confer on Tehudi's verses an interest “ But where now shall we find a priest, which they are not entitled to claim from their Our shrift that he may hear?” poetical merit. But ballad poetry, the more lite- “ The Switzer priest" has ta’en the field, rally it is translated, the more it loses its simpli- He deals a penance drear. city, without acquiring either grace or strength; and therefore some of the faults of the verses must * All the Swiss clergy who were able to bear arms foughi be imputed to the translator's feeling it a duty to in this patriotic war.

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The gallant Swiss confederates there,

They pray'd to God aloud,
And he display'd his rainbow fair

Against a swarthy cloud.
Then heart and pulse throbb'd more and more

With courage firm and high,
And down the good confederates bore

On the Austrian chivalry.

The Austrian liont 'gan to growl,

And toss his main and tail; And ball, and shaft, and crossbow bolt

Went whistling forth like hail.

Lance, pike, and halberd, mingled there,

The game was nothing sweet; The boughs of many a stately tree

Lay shiver'd at their feet.

It was the Archduke Leopold,

So lordly would he ride, But he came against the Switzer churls,

And they slew him in his pride. The heifer said unto the bull,

“ And shall I not complain? There came a foreign nobleman

To milk me on the plain. “ One thrust of thine outrageous horn

Has gall’d the knight so sore, That to the churchyard he is borne,

To range our glens no more.”— An Austrian noble left the stour,

And fast the flight ’gan take ;
And he arrived in luckless hour

At Sempach, on the lake.
He and his squire a fisher call’d,

(His name was Hans Von Rot,) “ For love, or meed, or charity,

Receive us in thy boat.”

The Austrian men-at-arms stood fast,

So close their spears they laid : It chafed the gallant Winkelried,

Who to his comrades said

* In the original, Haasenstein, or Hare-stone.

† This seems to allude to the preposterous fashion, during the middle ages, of wearing boots with the points or peaks turned upwards, and so long that, in some cases, they were fastened to the knees of the wearer with small chains. When they alighted to fight upon foot, it would seem that the Austrian gentlemen found it necessary to cut off these peaks, that they might move with the necessary activity.

* A pun on the archduke's name, Leopold,

Their anxious call the fisher heard,

And glad the meed to win,

* A pun on the Urus, or wild bull, which gives name to the canton of Uri.

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It was a messenger of wo

Has sought the Austrian land; “Ah! gracious lady, evil news!

My lord lies on the strand.

At Sempach, on the battle field,

His bloody corpse lies there."
“Ah, gracious God !" the lady cried,

What tidings of despair !”
Now would you know the minstrel wight,

Who sings of strife so stern,
Albert the Souter is he hight,

A burgher of Lucerne.
A merry man was he, I wot,

The night he made the lay,
Returning from the bloody spot

Where God had judged the day.

Nennius. Is not peace the end of arms ?
Caratach. Not where the cause implies a general con.

Had we a difference with some petty isle,
Or with our neighbours, Britons, for our landmarks,
The taking in of some rebellious lord,
Or making head against a slight commotion,
After a day of blood peace might be argued :
But where we grapple for the land we live on,
The liberty we hold more dear than life,
The gods we worship, and, next these, our honours,
And, with those, swords that know no end of haille--
Those men, beside themselves, allow no neighbour,
Those minds, thal, where the day is claim inheritance,
And, where the sun makes ripe the fruit, their harvest,
And where they march but measure out more ground
To add to Rome-
It must not be.-No! as they are our foes,
Let's use the peace of honour—that's fair dealing;
But in our hands our swords. The hardy Roman,
That thinks lo graft himself into my stock,
Must first begin his kindred under ground,
And be allied in ashes.


The following war-song was written during the THE MAID OF TORO.

apprehension of an invasion. The corps of volun

teers, to which it was addressed, was raised in O low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro,

1797, consisting of gentlemen, mounted and armed And weak were the whispers that waved the dark at their own expense. It still subsists, as the Right wood,

Troop of the Royal Mid-Lothian Light Cavalry, All as a fair maiden bewilder'd in sorrow,

commanded by, the honourable Lieutenant-colonel Sorely sigh'd to the breezes, and wept to the Dundas. The noble and constitutional measure, of flood.

arming freemen in defence of their own rights, was “O saints! from the mansions of bliss lowly bend- nowhere more successful than in Edinburgh, which ing;

furnished a force of 3000 armed and disciplined Sweet virgin ! who hearest the suppliant's cry;

volunteers, including a regiment of cavalry, from Now grant my petition, in anguish ascending,

the city and county, and two corps of artillery, My Henry restore, or let Eleanor die !

each capable of serving twelve guns. To such a

force, above all others, might, in similar circumAll distant and faint were the sounds of the battle, stances, be applied the exhortation of our ancient With the breezes they rise, with the breezes Galgacus : " Proinde ituri in aciem, et majores resthey fail,

tros et posteros cogitate.Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread rattle,

To horse! to horse! the standard flies, And the chase's wild clamour, came loading the The bugles sound the call; gale.

The Gallic navy stems the seas, Breathless she gazed on the woodlands so dreary; The voice of battle's on the breeze, Slowly approaching a warrior was seen ;

Arouse ye, one and all!

From high Dunedin's towers we come,

A band of brothers true ;
Our casques the leopard's spoils surround;
With Scotland's hardy thistle crown'd,

We boast the red and blue.*


Air-Thain' a Grigalach.*

Though tamely crouch to Gallia's frown

Dull Holland's tardy train ;
Their ravish'a toys though Romans mourn,
Though gallant Switzers vainly spurn,

And foaming gnaw the chain ;

These verses are adapted to a very wild, yet lively gathering-tune, used by the Mac-Gregors. The severe treatment of this clan, their outlawry, and the proscription of their very name, are alluded to in the ballad.

0! had they, mark'd th’avenging callt

Their brethren's murder gave, Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown, Nor patriot valour, desperate grown,

Sought freedom in the grave !

Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head,

In freedom's temple born,
Dress our pale cheeks in timid smile,
To hail a master in our isle,

Or brook a victor's scorn?

No! though destruction o'er the land

Come pouring as a flood,
The sun that sees our falling day
Shall mark our sabres' deadly sway,

And set that night in blood.

For gold let Gallia's legions fight,

Or plunder's bloody gain ;
Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw,
To guard our king, to fence our law,

Nor shall their edge be vain.

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the

brae, And the clan has a name that is nameless by day!

Then gatber, gather, gather, Gregalach!

Gather, gather, gather, &c.
Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo !

Then haloo, Gregalach ! haloo, Gregalach!

Haloo, haloo, haloo, Gregalach, &c.
Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her

Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours:

We're landless, landless, landless, Gregalach!

Landless, landless, landless, &c.
But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord
Mac-Gregor has still both his heart and his sword!

Then courage, courage, courage, Gregalach !

Courage, courage, courage, &c.
If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the

eagles !
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gre-

galach! Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, &c. While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the

river, Mac-Gregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever!

Come then, Gregalach ! come then, Gregalach!

Come then, come then, come then, &c. Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall

career, O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley sball

And the rocks of Craig Royston like icicles melt,
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!

Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalach !
Gather, gather, gather, &c.

If ever breath of British gale

Shall fan the tri-colour,
Or footstep of invader rude,
With rapine foul, and red with blood,

Pollute our happy shore

Then farewell home! and farewell friends!

Adieu each tender tie!
Resolved, we mingle in the tide,
Where charging squadrons furious ride,

To conquer or to die.

To horse! to horse! the sabres gleam;

High sounds our bugle call ; Combined by honour's sacred tie, Our word is, Laws and Liberty!

March forward, one and all !

* The royal colours.

MACKRIMMON'S LAMENT. + The allusion is to the massacre of the Swiss guards, on the fatal 10th of August, 1792. It is painful, but not use

Air-Cha till mi tuille. less, to remark, that the passive temper with which the Swiss regarded the death of their bravest countrymen,

MACKRIMMON, hereditary piper to the laird of mercilesely slaughtered in discharge of their duty, encousaged and authorized the progressive injustice by which Macleod, is said to have composed this lament the Alps, once the seat of the most virtuous and free peo. when the clan was about to depart upon a distant ple upon the continent, have, at length, been converted into the citadel of a foreign and military despot. A state

* " The Mac-Gregor is come." degraded is half enslaved.

+ “We return no more."

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