"Be merciful to our prisoners," continued the sufferer in a voice more weak and quavering, and stopping often to take breath; "be merciful to them, for they are our countrymen. Release and bid them return to their homes in peace; say that such was the last wish of Dundee. Many have styled me merciless in my time, sirs, and bitterly will they speak of my spirit when it is far beyond the reach of mortal malevolence. I have done fierce and stern things, but I have been hurried to do them by an irrevocable destiny, and a tide of circumstances incident to these our troubled times. Every iota of what I have done was fore-ordained--hah! do not your Presbyterians tell us so? But grateful--deeply grateful is the conviction to my passing spirit, that my friends will ever remember my name with honour, and my foes with fear. I feel more bitterness in dying after a victory than I could have endured by a defeat; for _it_ would have made life worthless, and death welcome. Oh, may this day's great achievement be an omen of future success, and a second Restoration! Go, my comrades; continue in that path of earthly glory which I must quit for ever; and let ye who survive to behold our beloved King fail not to tell him--that--that John Grahame of Claverhouse--with his last breath blessed him--and--died." Falling back, he immediately expired, just as daylight (which at that season scarcely passed away) brightened in the east. All started and bent over him; but the fierce spirit of that remorseless cavalier had fled for ever, and his magnificent features, as the rigidity and pallor of death overspread them, assumed the aspect of a beautiful marble statue. A groan that burst from the lips of his brother, as he knelt down and closed his eyes; the heavy sobs of a few aged Highlanders; and the low wail of a lament, as the pipers of Glengarry poured it to the mountain-wind and echoing woods of Urrard, were the only sounds heard within that gloomy chamber, where the terror of the Presbyterians--the idol of the cavaliers, and the last hope of James, lay prostrate, to rise no more. Though by one faction styled the _last and best of Scots_--by the other, a murderer and outlaw; yet, by the cause for which he died, and the manner of his death, he closed in glory a life of singular ferocity and turbulence. His remains were hurriedly interred in the rural kirk of Blair Athol; and the cause of King James was buried with him. His brother assumed his title; but died in great obscurity in France in 1700. The buff coat of Dundee, bearing the mark of the fatal ball, and stained with his blood, together with his helmet and other relics, are still preserved in the ducal castle of Blair.