Now by my faith as belted knight,
  And by the name I bear,
  And by the bright St. 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,
  Or dared to hope my dying day
  Would win a martyr’s crown.

  There is a chamber far away,
  Where sleeps the good and brave
  But a better place ye have named for me
  Than by my fathers grave,
  For truth and right ’gainst treason’s might
  This hand has always striven,
  And ye raise it up for a witness still
  For the eye of earth and heaven. 
  Then nail my heart on yonder tower,
  Give every town a limb
  And God who made, shall gather them;—­
  I go from you to him!

  The morning dawned full darkly,
  The rain came flashing down
  And the forky streak of lightning’s bolt,
  Lit up the gloomy town. 
  The thunders’ 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.

  Oh God! that ghastly gibbet,
  How dismal ’t is to see,
  The great spectral skeleton—­
  The ladder and the tree. 
  Hark! hark! the clash of arms
  The bells begin to toll,—­
  He is coming!  He is coming! 
  God have mercy on his soul! 
  One last long peal of thunder,—­
  The clouds are cleared away
  And the glorious sun once more look’d down
  Upon 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 colour in his visage,
  Though the cheeks of all were wan,
  And they marvelled as he passed them,
  That great and goodly man.

  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 look’d up toward heaven,
  And it all was 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 therein,
  All else was calm and still.

  Then radiant and serene he rose,
  And cast his cloak away;
  For he had taken his latest look
  Of earth and sun and day.