It would have made a brave man's heart Grow sad and sick that day, To watch the keen malignant eyes Bent down on that array. There stood the Whig West-country lords In balcony and bow; There sat their gaunt and withered dames, And their daughters all arow. And every open window Was full as full might be With black-robed Covenanting carles, That goodly sport to see! But when he came, though pale and wan, He looked so great and high, So noble was his manly front, So calm his steadfast eye,-- The rabble rout forbore to shout, And each man held his breath, For well they knew the hero's soul Was face to face with death. And then a mournful shudder Through all the people crept, And some that came to scoff at him Now turned aside and wept. But onwards--always onwards, In silence and in gloom, The dreary pageant labored, Till it reached the house of doom. Then first a woman's voice was heard In jeer and laughter loud, And an angry cry and hiss arose From the heart of the tossing crowd; Then, as the Graeme looked upwards, He saw the ugly smile Of him who sold his king for gold-- The master-fiend Argyle! The Marquis gazed a moment, And nothing did he say, But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, And he turned his eyes away. The painted harlot by his side, She shook through every limb, For a roar like thunder swept the street, And hands were clenched at him; And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, "Back, coward, from thy place! For seven long years thou hast not dared To look him in the face." 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 mailèd men-- Not all the rebels in the South Had borne us backward 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 Warriston To read the murderous doom; And then uprose the great Montrose In the middle of the room.