scenery of beauty but sorrow,
For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow.

'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying,
Conceal'd 'mong the mist where the heath-fowl were crying;
For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,
And their bridle-reins rung through the thin misty covering.

Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheath'd,
But the vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreathed;
With eyes raised to heaven, in calm resignation,
They sung their last song to the God of salvation.

The hills with the sweet mournful music were ringing,
The curlew and plover in concert were singing;
But the melody died 'midst derision and laughter,
As the host of ungodly rush'd on to the slaughter.

Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded,
Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded;
Their dark eyes flash'd lightning, as, proud and unbending,
They stood like the rock which the thunder was rending.

The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming,
The heavens grew black, and the thunder was rolling,
As in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling.

When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended,
A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended;
Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,
And its burning wheels turn'd upon axles of brightness.

A seraph unfolded its door, bright and shining,
All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining;
And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation,
Have mounted the chariot and steeds of salvation.

On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding;
Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding;
Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye--
A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory!

HOW SWEET THE DEWY BELL IS SPREAD.

How sweet the dewy bell is spread
Where Spango's mossy streams are lavin'
The heathery locks o' deepenin' red,
Around the mountain brow aye wavin'!
Here, on the sunny mountain side,
Dear lassie, we 'll lie down thegither;
Where Nature spreads luve's crimson bed,
Among the bonnie bloomin' heather.

Lang hae I wish'd, my lovely maid,
Amang thae fragrant wilds to lead ye;
And now, aneath