THE BATTLE OF INVERLOCHY. 1. Inverlochy! Inverlochy ! speak thou loudly for Montrose, 2. Speak a word for us, Ben Nevis, when our standard is in rags ; Grave our names, old Conyarrick, on thy torrent-beds and crags; Bear ye witness now and ever, how we wrought our country's weal, And be the mirror of our fame, ye waters of Lochiel. 3. There is glory round the mountain-tops, there's triumph in the gale, And the eagle's scream to help our shout, and mock the Campbell's wail; And the loyal sun hath beamed his best to tear the mist away; 4. ; We have won, ye piny forests! snows and rivers! we have won ; "Twixt the morning and the gloaming all our winter's work is done For the heathery upland's purple cheek hath blushed with foeman's gore, And blood-red waves go shuddering up to kiss a blood-red shore. 5. We have broken through the icy bars, that fenced thy lands, Argyle! We have striven through many a cold morass and many a grim defile; Where our line of twenty hundred men trailed in a single thread, Where no guide durst go-'twas our Montrose, our beacon-soul, that led. 6. Oh! he led us like a walking flame-and where be they that quailed? Ah! surely they have died for shame, as soon as courage failed ; But the few and faithful brethren-Lord Aboyne, and Francis Hay, Nisbet, Menzies, and Clanranald, with the Graham have held their way. 7. Here are Gordons and M'Donalds, here are Napier and Menteith, halls, All come to see how broadswords cleave, and how a Campbell falls. 8. Hearts of wreak, and hands of might, and claymores of true steel, 9. Like the dawn we burst upon them-they were scarce for battle boune, When they heard our pibroch screech, and saw our ranks come drifting down; And the gathering of the western men was like the rustling trees, That know the storm's at hand, when touched by the chilly warning breeze. 10. Then thy cunning heart fell quaking, oh thou sour Macullum More, 11. Shame on thee, thou rebel lord, to float upon the sea, While scores of hapless clansmen were a-dying all for thee; Shame on you, Glenorchy, Ardnamurchan, Innishail, For a black-browed man with a white doe's heart to fly, and bleed, and wail. 12. Ye have scorned us, ye have branded us, and now we've come and fought, Will ye tell your crop-eared pulpit-folks we reached Lochow for nought? No-ye chased us far too proudly-so ye set the stag at bay, And the fugitives have conquered, and the hunters are the prey. 13. So run off, ye Dhunie-wassels, for your pious lord hath fled, fears? 14. But we'll turn back on Seaforth, and bring him on his knee, But her proudest name shall be good James Graham, the Marquis of Montrose, THE CONFESSIONS OF AN OLD SHUFFLER. DEDICATION. To all who hate trouble, and love shuffling; to all those to whom the word "sap," speaks of greenness; to all in short who prefer idleness to industry, most lovingly are inscribed the following pages by CHAP I. AN OLD SHUFFLER. The days of shuffling have departed, and the character of Eton has changed; paper chases have given way to Taste papers, and football to philosophy; hockey to Homer, and cricket to composition; the shadows that yet remain of these venerable things, being no more like the reckless jollity of byegone days, than the present race of Eton fellows is like their predecessors. Who ever thought, in my time, of giving up an "after-twelve," or "after-four," to verses, or lyrics? Who cared about being "sent up?" Who ever thought of doing anything more for Homer and Virgil than trusting to the Pythian inspiration of the moment, and echoing the mysterious whispers of a hidden oracle below, above, or beside you? Who ever did more than his "number?" But I am anticipating. Let it be my task from the chimney corner of my house in the country, before I retire to rest each night after my toils with the "beagles," (I call my four dogs by this name for old memories' sake,) to jot down a chapter or two, which shall, if it be possible, recal to existence once more, the idleness, the charming idleness of my school days. I will make a clean brush of it, in spite of no! in spite of nobody will I do anythingand I will give rules by which the youngest and most inexperienced may shuffle like the best educated in that noble, though now neglected science. A science it is, I will most stoutly maintain, and when you read Aristotle, as you may be obliged to do some day, you will discover how far it is an art, and how far a science. I shall feel obliged, Mr. Editor, if you will inform me by post, whether the present masters were, when boys, at school at Eton? and, if so, whether they read the Bureau? Because, if they were boys at school, I am afraid I must suppose that they were aware of the deceptions that were carried on around them, though of course they took no share in them; and if they read the Bureau, I will give my rules in hieroglyphics, and furnish Mr. Ingalton with a key, binding him in the strictest manner to explain its meaning to none but purchasers. I shall commence my history with the day on, which I entered the fourth form, and I strongly recommend No. VI. to the notice of all fourth form, who may wish to have nothing to do, and do it well. Waiting your reply to my enquiries, I must beg you to believe me with sincere admiration of your many shining qualities as a shuffler, Yours, faithfully, THE OLD Shuffler. Puddletown, (To be continued.) TO A BOOK. Alone! how can I be alone? Were I quite visionless, A vacant eye to press, |