wept Dundee
And tamed the Lindsay's pride;
But never have I told thee yet
How the great Marquis died.

A traitor sold him to his foes:
Oh, deed of deathless shame!
I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet
With one of Assynt's name,
Be it upon the mountain side,
Or yet within the glen,
Stand he in martial gear alone,
Or backed by armed men;
Face him as thou wouldst face a man
That 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 lord
In Balcony and Bow;
There sat three gaunt and withered Dames
And daughters in a row,
And every open window
Was full, as full might be,
With black robed covenanting carles,
That goodly sport to see.

And when he came, so pale and wan
He looked, so great and High,
So noble was his manly front,
So calm his steadfast eye,
The rabble rout, forbore to shout,
And each man held his breath,
For well they knew the hero's soul
Was face to face with death.
And then a mournful shuddering
Through all the people crept,
And some that came to scoff at him
Now turned aside and wept.

But onward, always onward,
In silence and in gloom,
The dreary pageant labored
Till it reached the house of doom.
Then first a woman's voice was heard
In jeer and laughter loud,
An angry cry and hiss arose,
From the lips of the angry crowd.
Then as the Graeme looked upward
He saw the bitter smile
Of him who sold his king for gold,
The master fiend Argyle.

The Marquis gazed a moment
And nothing did he say;
But Argyle's cheek grew deadly pale,
And he turned his eyes away.
The painted frail one by his side,
She shook through every limb,
For warlike thunder swept the streets,
And hands were clenched at him,
And a Saxon soldier cried, aloud,
Back coward, from thy place!
For seven long y