950 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1802. 
6¢ Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, 
‘Murder’s foul minion, led the van ; 
And clash’d their broad-swords in the rear, 
The wild Macfarlane’s plaided clan. . 
¢¢ Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh, 
Obsequious at their regent’s rein, 
And hagger’d Lindsay’s iron eye, 
That saw fair Mary weep in vain. 
¢¢ >Mid Pennon’d spears, a steely grove, 
Proud Murray’s plumage floated high, 
Scarce could his trampling charger meve, 
So close the minions crowded nigh. 
6¢ From the rais’d visor’s shade, his eye, 
rk-rolling, glane’d the ranks along 3 
And his steel truncheon, wav'd on high, 
Seem’d marshalling the iron throng. 
** But yet his sadden’d brow confess’d , 
A passing shade of doubt and awe ; 
Some fiend was whispering in his breast, 
¢ Beware of injur’d Bothwellhaugh Y 
«¢ The death-shot parts, the ralvses springs, 
Wild rises tumult’s startling roar ! 
And Murray’s plumy halmet rings— 
Rings on the ground to rise no more. 
“ What joy the raptur’d youth can feel, 
To hear her love the lov’d one tell ;. 
Oy he, who broaches on his steel 
The wolf, by whom his infant fell! 
_ # But dearer to my injur’d eye, 
To see in dust proud Murray roll ; 
And mine was ten times trebl’d joy, 
To hear him groan his felon soul. 
#¢ My Margaret’s spectre glided near ; 
With pride her bleeding victim saw, 
And shriek’d in his death-deafen’d ear, 
* Remember injur'd Bothwellhaugh 
« Then 
