But the success of the victorious leader and patriot, is almost thrown into the shade by the noble magnanimity and Christian heroism of the man in the hour of defeat and death. It is impossible now to obliterate the darkest page of Scottish history, which we owe to the vindictive cruelty of the Covenanters--a party venal in principle, pusillanimous in action, and more than dastardly in their revenge; but we can peruse it with the less disgust, since that very savage spirit which planned the woful scenes connected with the final tragedy of Montrose, has served to exhibit to the world, in all time to come, the character of the martyred nobleman in by far its loftiest light. There is no ingredient of fiction in the historical incidents recorded in the following ballad. The indignities that were heaped upon Montrose during his procession through Edinburgh, his appearance before the Estates, and his last passage to the scaffold, as well as his undaunted bearing, have all been spoken to by eyewitnesses of the scene. A graphic and vivid sketch of the whole will be found in Mr Mark Napier's volume, "The Life and Times of Montrose"--a work as chivalrous in its tone as the Chronicles of Froissart, and abounding in original and most interesting materials; but, in order to satisfy all scruple, the authorities for each fact are given in the shape of notes. The ballad may be considered as a narrative of the transactions, related by an aged Highlander, who had followed Montrose throughout his campaigns, to his grandson, shortly before the splendid victory of Killiecrankie:-- I. Come hither, Evan Cameron, Come, stand beside my knee-- I hear the river roaring down Towards the wintry sea. There's shouting on the mountain side, There's war within the blast-- Old faces look upon me, Old forms go trooping past. I hear the pibroch wailing Amidst the din of fight, And my old spirit wakes again Upon the verge of night! II. 'Twas I that led the Highland host Through wild Lochaber's snows, What time the plaided clans came down To battle with Montrose. I've told thee how the Southrons fell Beneath the broad claymore, And how we smote the Campbell clan By Inverlochy's shore. I've told thee how we swept Dundee, And tamed the Lindsays' pride; But never have I told thee yet How the Great Marquis died! III. A traitor sold him to his foes;{A} 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 back'd by armed men-- Face him, as thou would'st face the man Who wrong'd thy sire's renown; Remember of what blood thou art, And strike the caitiff down! IV.