VIII.

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."


IX.

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 of the south
Had borne us backwards then!
Once more his foot on Highland heath
Had trod as free as air,