Than steely pride are yet more strong;
    That shame can strike a blow
  At comradeship more fatal far
  Than any chance of fateful war
  When faction howled with Cerberus throat,
  When falsehood struck a felon stroke,
    When forgery did its worst
  To pull its hated quarry down,
  To dim, disarm, degrade, discrown. 
    Against the array accurst
  That ancient chief made gallant head,
  Dismayed not, nor disquieted
    At rancour’s rude assault. 
  He shared opprobrium undeserved,
  But not for that had courage swerved,
    Or loyalty made default. 
  But now?  The hand that reared hath razed;
  And as old ANGUS stood amazed
    At WILTON’s shameful tale,
  So fealty here must bend the brow,
  And faith, though sorely tried, till now
    Surviving, faint and fail;
  As DOUGLAS round him drew his cloak,
  So, saddened by unknightly stroke,
    The ancient chief must draw;
  Nor in mere pharisaic scorn,
  But in the name of faith foresworn
    And honour’s broken law.

  “’Tis pity of him, too!” ’Twas so,
  The half-relenting ANGUS, low
    Spake in his snowy beard. 
  “Bold can he speak, and fairly ride: 
  I warrant him a warrior tried.” 
    A foeman to be feared,
  A leader to be trusted, seemed
  This dark, cold chief, and few had dreamed
    Of such strange severance. 
  And any not ignoble eye
  In sorrow more than mockery
    Aside will gladly glance. 
  ’Tis pity of it!  Right or wrong,
  The Cause needs champions true as strong,
    And blameless as they’re bold. 
  “A sinful heart makes feeble hand,”
  Cried MARMION, his “failing brand”
    Cursing with lips grown cold. 
  Let vulgar venom triumph here,
  And hate, itself from shame not clear,
    Make haste to hurl the stone;
  A nobler foe will stand aside,
  And more in sorrow than in pride,
  Not hot to harry or deride,
  Like DOUGLAS in his halls abide,
    But keep his hand—­his own!

* * * * *

FROM A THEATRICAL CORRESPONDENT.—­Sir,—­I know a lot about London and N.B., but never till now did I know of the existence of ’ARRY in Scotland.  The character is now represented, as I am informed, on the stage, by Mr. BEERBOHM TREE, who, in a play called Back, impersonates the MAC ARRY.  Odd, this! for the McCOCKNIE.  P.S.—­One lives and learns. [*** If McCOCKNIE is to learn much, he will have to become a McMETHUSELAH.  The piece to which he alludes is Called Back, by HUGH CONWAY and COMYNS CARR, and the part in it, excellently played by Mr. TREE, is Macari, an Italian.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “SEPARATISTS.”

Douglas ...  Mr. Gl-dst-ne.  Marmion ...  Mr. P-rn-ll.

Douglas.  “THE HAND OF DOUGLAS IS HIS OWN; AND NEVER SHALL IN FRIENDLY
GRASP THE HAND OF SUCH AS MARMION CLASP!”—­Marmion, Canto VI.]