The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

We had gathered that night for prayer
On the hill above Clyde-burn head,
When a whisper went round, as we came to the ground,
That our Leader and Preacher was dead.

The troopers had come on his track
As he sped down the bank of the Daur;
They were seen to follow, with whoop and halloo,
While he made for the Buckshead scaur.

Shots had soon after been heard,
And blood had been certainly spilt;
So we reckoned it plain that he had been slain,
And we doubted not whose was the guilt.

Sad, then, and stricken at heart,
We were turning to hasten away,
When some one said, “If our leader is dead,
We have all the more need to pray.”

Unbonneted all of us stood,
Till we heard a whaup's shrill cry;—
We had posted men at the foot of the glen
To warn us if danger were nigh;

And that was the signal agreed,
Which we heard now at Clyde-burn head,
And we held our breath, and were still as death,
Where we stood on the high watershed.

We could hear the beat of our hearts,
But by and by came a cheer,
And out of the mist a form uprist,
And our pastor himself drew near.

The gloaming had gathered grey,
And the light was fading fast,
So we did not see, at first, how he
Had changed since we saw him last.

For he had been a stalwart man,
Big both in body and limb,
And his simple dress, in its homeliness,
Had always been neat and trim.

Now broken he was and bent,
And his face was pale as death,
He was soiled with mud, and stained with blood,
And he gasped at each painful breath,

As he wearily dragged his feet
To the great grey stone on the hill,
Where he often had stood to do us good,
And to strengthen our heart and will.

There for a moment he paused,
Girding himself to speak,
And the hearts of the crowd were wholly bowed
To see the strong man so weak.

“My hours are numbered,” he said,
“But I hasted to send you home,
For they knew that to-night we should meet on the height
Where the Clyde-burn frets in foam.

“Earlshall and his hard-riding troop
Saw me come down by the Daur,
And followed me close, o'er moor and moss,
And on by the Buckshead scaur.

“They caught me at Elvan foot,
And horsed me there, hard and tight;
Without saddle or bridle I rode in the middle,
With a trooper to left and right.

597

“Then they had a great drink at the inn,
Where a lad somewhat loosened my feet;
The ale had been strong, and with jest and song
They carelessly rode in the heat.

“The day was muggy and warm,
And their brains were sodden with drink,
At Ericstane Brae they were no more gay,
But the wakefulest 'gan to wink.

“There I got my feet free of the rope,
Where the gully is sudden and deep;
It was half-full of mist, as I surely wist,
And its bank is stony and steep.

“I thought I had gotten my chance,
And slipt from the back of my steed,
Crept under the man to my left, and ran
Right down the rough bank in hot speed.

“I heard them shout and swear,
For none of them minced their words;
With a sudden bound some leapt to the ground,
And hurriedly drew their swords.

“But some their carbines fired,
And one of them reached the mark,
Yet I ran on fast, till I got at last
Down into the mist and the dark,

“And reached the Annan, but faint
With loss of blood and strength
From a wound that, I feel, will never heal,
For my hour is come at length.

“But I could not rest, until
I had brought a warning to you;
So I crawled up the hill, and crept on still,
Though weary and weak I grew.

“Now haste you, every one, home,
For I think they will soon be here;
And leave me alone by the big grey stone
Where I've preached to you often in fear.

“God's will be done; I had hoped
To lead you in prayer this night,
But there's One who will pray for you night and day
To keep you true to the right.

“I leave you now in His hand,
Who never will leave His own;
Hold fast to the faith, and fear not death,
But think of the great white Throne.

“Away! every man to his home,
Let your sorrow for me now cease;
Alone with God, on this bit of green sod,
I shall yield my soul in peace.”

That was the last word he spake,
Straightway he fell down dead,
As we heard the beat of the horses' feet,
And silently scattered and fled.