"With them each day was holy; but that morn On which the angel said, 'See where the Lord Was laid,' joyous arose; to die that day Was bliss. Long ere the dawn by devious ways, O'er hills, through woods, o'er dreary wastes, they sought The upland muirs, where rivers, there but brooks, Dispart to different seas. Fast by such brooks A little glen is sometimes scoop'd, a plat With greensward gay, and flowers that strangers seem Amid the heathery wild, that all around Fatigues the eye: in solitudes like these, Thy persecuted children, Scotia, foil'd A tyrant's and a bigot's bloody laws. There, leaning on his spear (one of the array Whose gleam, in former days, had scathed the rose On England's banner, and had powerless struck The infatuate monarch, and his wavering host!) The lyart veteran heard the word of God By Cameron thunder'd, or by Renwick pour'd In gentle stream; then rose the song, the loud Acclaim of praise. The wheeling plover ceased Her plaint; the solitary place was glad; And on the distant cairn the watcher's ear Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note. But years more gloomy follow'd; and no more The assembled people dared, in face of day, To worship God, or even at the dead Of night, save when the wintry storm raved fierce, And thunder-peals compell'd the men of blood To couch within their dens; then dauntlessly The scatter'd few would meet, in some deep dell By rocks o'ercanopied, to hear the voice, Their faithful pastor's voice. He by the gleam Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book, And words of comfort spake; over their souls His accents soothing came, as to her young The heathfowl's plumes, when, at the close of eve, She gathers in, mournful, her brood dispersed By murderous sport, and o'er the remnant spreads Fondly her wings; close nestling 'neath her breast They cherish'd cower amid the purple bloom." Not a few other sweet singers or strong, native to this nook of our isle, might we now in these humble pages lovingly commemorate; and "four shall we mention, dearer than the rest," for sake of that virtue, among many virtues, which we have been lauding all along, their nationality;--These are AIRD and MOTHERWELL (of whom another hour), MOIR and POLLOK.