Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, And he saw her hair like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. AYTOUN. Come hither, Evan Cameron, come stand beside my knee; I hear the river roaring down towards the wintry sea. I hear the pibroch wailing amidst the din of fight, And my dim spirit wakes again upon the verge of night. 'Twas I that led the Highland host through wild Lochaber's snows pride; But never have I told thee yet how the Great Marquis died. A traitor sold him to his foes-O, deed of deathless shame! I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet with one of Assynt's name, Be it upon the mountain's side, or yet within the glen, Stand he in martial gear alone, or backed by armèd men— Face him as thou wouldst face the man who wronged thy sire's Remember of what blood thou art, and strike the caitiff down. They brought him to the Watergate, hard bound with hempen span, Had I been there, with sword in hand, and fifty Camerons by, It might not be. They placed him next within the solemn hall, "Now, by my faith as belted knight, and by the name I bear, "There is a chamber far away, where sleep the good and brave, But a better place ye've named for me than by my father's grave. For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, this hand hath always striven, And ye raise it up for a witness still in the eye of earth and Heaven; The morning dawned full darkly; like a bridegroom from his room There was color in his visage, though the cheeks of all were wan, Then radiant and serene he stood, and cast his cloak away, A beam of light fell o'er him, like a glory round the shriven, VICTOR GALBRAITH. LONGFELLOW. Under the walls of Monterey At daybreak the bugles began to play, In the midst of the morning, damp and gray "Come forth to thy death, Victor Galbraith!" Forth he came, with a martial tread; He, who so well the bugle played, Could not mistake the words it said. "Come forth to thy death, Victor Galbraith!" He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, Victor Galbraith! And he said, with a steady voice and eye: "Take good aim; I am ready to die!" Thus challenges death Victor Galbraith. Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, Victor Galbraith Falls to the ground, but he is not dead; His name was not stamped on those balls of lead, And they only scath Victor Galbraith, Three balls are in his breast and brain, 'The water he drinks has a bloody stair; Victor Galbraith. Forth dart once more those tongues of flame, His soul has gone back to whence it came, When the sergeant sayeth, "Victor Galbraith!" Under the walls of Monterey By night a bugle is heard to play, Through the mist of the valley, damp and gray, "That is the wraith Of Victor Galbraith!" KILLED AT THE FORD. LONGFELLOW. He is dead, the beautiful youth, The heart of honor, the tongue of truth- He, the life and light of us all, Whose voice was blithe as a bugle call, Whom all eyes followed with one consent, The cheer of whose laugh, and whose pleasant word Hushed all murmurs of discontent. Only last night, as we rode along Down the dark of the mountain gap, To visit the picket guard at the ford Little dreaming of any mishap, He was humming the words of some old song; "Two red roses he had on his cap, And another he bore at the point of his sword." Sudden and swift a whistling ball Came out of the wood, and the voice was still; Something I heard in the darkness fall, And for a moment my blood grew chill; We lifted him up to his saddle again, |