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And then a mournful shudder through all the people crept,
And some that came to scoff at him, now turned aside and wept.

Had I been there with sword in hand, and fifty Camerons by,
That day through high Dunedin's streets had pealed the slogan cry.
Not all their troops of trampling horse, nor might of mailéd men <-
Not all the rebels in the south had borne us backwards then!
Once more his foot on Highland heath had trod as free as air,
Or I, and all who bore my name, been laid around him there.

It might not be. They placed him next within the solemn hall,
Where once the Scottish kings were throned amidst their nobles all.
But there was dust of vulgar feet on that polluted floor,
And perjured traitors filled the place where good men sate before.
With savage glee came Warristoun to read the murderous doom,
And then uprose the great Montrose in the middle of the room.

Now by my faith as belted knight, and by the name I bear,
And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross that waves above us there...
Yea, by a greater, mightier oath, and oh, that such should be !--
By that dark stream of royal blood that lies 'twixt you and me,
I have not sought in battle-field a wreath of such renown,
Nor hoped I, on my dying day, to win a martyr's crown!

The morning dawned full darkly, the rain came flashing down,
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt lit up the gloomy town:
The thunder crashed across the heaven, the fatal hour was come,
Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat, the 'larum of the drum.
There was madness on the earth below., and anger in the sky,
And young and old, and rich and poor, came forth to see him die,

Ah God! that ghastly gibbet! how dismal 't is to see
The great, tall, spectral skeleton, the ladder, and the tree !
Hark! Hark! it is the clash of arms, the bells begin to tell -
He is coming! he is coming! God's mercy on his soul!
One last long peal of thunder — the clouds are cleared away,
And the glorious sun once more looks down amidst the dazzling day

He is coming! he is coming! — Like a bridegroom from his room
Came the hero from his prison to the scaffold and the doom.
There was glory on his forehead, there was lustre in his eye,
And he never walked to battle more proudly than to die :

There was color in his visage, though the cheeks of all were wan, And they marvelled as they saw him pass, that great and goodly man!

A beam of light fell o'er him, like a glory round the shriven,
And he climbed the lofty ladder, as it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cloud, and a stunning thunder roll,
Ard no man dared to look aloft, for fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound, a hush and then a groan;
And darkness swept across the sky — the work of death was done!

XCIII.- EXECUTION OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.

LINGARD. (JOEN LINGARD was born in Winchester, England, February 5, 1771, and died July 13. 1851. He was a clergyman of the Roman Catholic faith. The chief literary labor of his life was his “ History of England,” from the earliest period down to the revolution of 1688; the latest edition of which is in ten volumes, octavo. This work has taken a high and permanent rank in the historical literature of his country. The style is simple, correct, and manly, without being remarkable for beauty or eloquence. The chief value of the work consists in its thorough and patient research into the original sources of EngLish history. How far it is impartial, when treating upon controverted points, is a question which neither Catholics nor Protestants are exactly in a position to answer. Dr. Lingard was a sincere and conscientious Catholic; his temperament was calm and judicial; and if he betrays any bias in favor of his own faith, it is, perhaps, no more than that, unconscious bias which always attends genuine conviction. His “ History,” at all events, should be carefully read by every one who is not content with the cheap task of deciding before he hears both sides.

Dr. Lingard also wrote “ The History and Antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon Church,” and some manuals of religious teaching.

Mary of Scotland, after the total defeat of her party at the battle of Langside, in 1568, fled to England, and threw herself upon the protection of Elizabeth, queen of England, by whom, however, she was kept a prisoner for nineteen years. She was then tried by a commission, for engaging in a conspiracy against the life of Elizabeth, and condemned to death. She was beheaded February 8, 1587, at Fotheringay Castle, in Northamptonshire; and the follow ing is a description of her execution.] ...

In the midst of the great hall of the castle had been raised a scaffold, covered with black serge and surrounded with a low railing About seven, the doors were thrown open ; the gentlemen of the county entered with their at

tendants; and Paulet's guard augmented the number to between one hundred and fifty and two hundred spectators. Before cight, a message was sent to the queen, who replied

that she would be ready in half an hour. At that time, 5 Andrews, the sheriff, entered the oratory, and Mary arose,

taking the crucifix from the altar in her right, and carrying her prayer-book in her left, hand. Her servants were forbidden to follow; they insisted; but the queen bade

them to be content, and turning, gave them her blessing. 10 They received it on their knees, some kissing her hands,

others her mantle. The door closed; and the burst of lamentation from those within resounded through the hall.

Mary was now joined by the carl and her kcepers, and descending the staircase, found, at the foot, Melville, the 15 steward of her household, who, for several weeks, had been

excluded from her presence. This old and faithful servant threw himself on his knees, and wringing his hands exclaimed, “Ah, madam, unhappy me! was ever a man on

earth the bearer of such sorrow as I shall be, when I report 20 that my good and gracious queen and mistress was be

headed in England !” Here his grief impeded his utterance; and Mary replied, “ Good Melville, cease to lament; thou hast rather cause to joy than mourn ; for thou shalt see

the end of Mary Stuart's troubles. Know that this world %5 is but vanity, subject to more sorrow than an ocean of tears

can bewail. But I pray thee, report that I die a true woman to my religion, to Scotland, and to France. May God forgive them that have long thirsted for my blood, as

the hart doth for the brooks of water. O God, thou art the 39 author of truth, and truth itself. Thou knowest the in

wara chambers of my thoughts, and that I always wished the union of England and Scotland. Commend me to my son, and tell him that I have done nothing prejudicial to the dignity or independence of his crown, or favorable to the pretended superiority of our enemies.” Then bursting into tears, she said, “Good Melville, farewell;” and kissing him, “once again, good Melville, farewell, and pray for

* Sir Amias Paulet was the person who had the custody of Mary's person.

thy mistress and thy queen.” It was remarked as some5 thing extraordinary, that this was the first time in her life

she had ever been known to address a person with the pronoun “ thou.”

The procession now set forward. It was headed by the sheriff and his officers; next followed Paulet and Drury, 10 and the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent; and lastly came

the Scottish queen, with Mellville bearing her train. She wore the richest of her dresses — that which was appropriate to the rank of a queen dowager. Her step was firm,

and her countenance cheerful. She bore without shrinking 15 the gaze of the spectators, and the sight of the scaffold,

the block, and the executioner, and ailvanced into the hall with that grace and majesty which she had so often displayed in her happier days, and in the palace of her fathers.

To aid her as she mounted the scaffold, Paulet offered 20 his arm. “I thank you, sir," said Mary; “it is the last

trouble I shall give you, and the most acceptable service you have ever rendered me.”

The queen seated herself on a stool which was prepared for her. On her right stood the two earls; on the left the 25 sheriff and Beal, the clerk of the council ; in front, the

executioner from the Tower, in a suit of black velvet, with his assistant, also clad in black. The warrant was read, and Mary, in an audible voice, addressed the assembly.

She would have them recollect that she was a sov30 ereign princess, not subject to the parliament of England,

but brought there to suffer by injustice and violence. She, however, thanked her God that he had given her this opportunity of publicly professing her religion, and of declar

ing, as she had often before declared, that she had never 35 imagined, nor compassed, nor consented to, the death of

the English queen, nor ever sought the least harm to her

person. After her death, many things, which were then buried in darkness, would come to light. But she pardoned from her heart all her enemies, nor should her tongue utter

that which might turn to their prejudice. 5 Here she was interrupted by Dr. Fletcher, Dean of Pc

terborough, who, having caught her eye, began to preach, and under that cover, perhaps through motives of zeal, contrived to insult the feelings of the unfortunate sufferer.

Mary repeatedly desired him not to trouble himself and 10 her. He persisted; she turned aside. He made the cir

cuit of the scaffold, and again addressed her in front. An end was put to this extraordinary scene by the Earl of Shrewsbury, who ordered him to pray.

His prayer was the echo of his sermon; but Mary heard 15 him not. She was employed at the time in her devotions,

repeating with a loud voice, and in the Latin language, passages from the book of Psalms; and after the dean was reduced to silence, a prayer in French, in which she begged

of God to pardon her sins, declared that she forgave her 20 enemies, and protested that she was innocent of ever con

senting, in wish or deed, to the death of her English sister. She then prayed in English for Christ's afflicted church, for her son James, and for queen Elizabeth, ard in conclu

sion, holding up the crucifix, exclaimed, “As thy arms, 0 25 God, were stretched out upon the cross, so receive me into the arms of thy mercy, and forgive my sins.”

When her maids, bathed in tears, began to disrobe their mistress, the executioners, fearing the loss of their usual

perquisites, hastily interfered. The queen remonstrated, 30 but instantly submitted to their rudeness, observing to the

earls, with a smile, that she was not accustomed to employ such grooms, or to undress in the presence of so numerous a company. .

Her servants, at the sight of their sovereign in this la35 mentable state, could not suppress their feelings; but Mary, putting her finger to her lips, commanded silence, gave

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