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 toll—­
  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.

  XV.

  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 colour in his visage,
    Though the cheeks of all were wan,
  And they marvelled as they saw him pass,
    That great and goodly man!

  XVI.

  He mounted up the scaffold,
    And he turned him to the crowd;
  But they dared not trust the people,
    So he might not speak aloud. 
  But he looked upon the heavens,
    And they were clear and blue,
  And in the liquid ether
    The eye of God shone through: 
  Yet a black and murky battlement
    Lay resting on the hill,
  As though the thunder slept within—­
    All else was calm and still.

  XVII.

  The grim Geneva ministers
    With anxious scowl drew near,
  As you have seen the ravens flock
    Around the dying deer. 
  He would not deign them word nor sign,
    But alone he bent the knee;
  And veiled his face for Christ’s dear grace
    Beneath the gallows-tree. 
  Then radiant and serene he rose,
    And cast his cloak away: 
  For he had ta’en his latest look
    Of earth, and sun, and day.

  XVIII.

  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,
  And 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!

NOTES TO

“The execution of Montrose”

“A traitor sold him to his foes,”—­p. 36.

“The contemporary historian of the Earls of Sutherland records, that (after the defeat of Invercarron) Montrose and Kinnoul ’wandered up the river Kyle the whole ensuing night, and the next day, and the third day also, without any food or sustenance, and at last came within the country of Assynt.  The Earl of Kinnoul, being faint for lack of meat, and not able to travel any further, was left there among the mountains, where it was supposed he perished.