consolations of religion, till he gently ’fell asleep in Jesus.’  He died on the 21st of December, 1762, in the eighty-fifth year of his age; and to his surviving friends the recollection of the misfortunes which had accompanied him through his long life was painfully awakened even in the closing scene of his mortal career—­as his son had the mortification to be indebted to a stranger, now the proprietor of his ancient inheritance by purchase from the crown, for permission to lay his father’s honoured remains in the vault which contained the ashes of his family for many generations.”

Such a character as this is well worthy of remembrance; and Lord Pitsligo has just title to be called the last of the old Scottish Cavaliers.  I trust that, in adapting the words of the following little ballad to a well-known English air, I have committed no unpardonable larceny.

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 3:  See Blackwood’s Magazine for May 1829.—­Article “Lord Pitsligo.”]

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER

  I.

  Come listen to another song,
    Should make your heart beat high,
  Bring crimson to your forehead,
    And the lustre to your eye;—­
  It is a song of olden time,
    Of days long since gone by,
  And of a Baron stout and bold
    As e’er wore sword on thigh! 
      Like a brave old Scottish cavalier,
        All of the olden time!

  II.

  He kept his castle in the north,
    Hard by the thundering Spey;
  And a thousand vassals dwelt around
    All of his kindred they. 
  And not a man of all that clan
    Had ever ceased to pray
  For the Royal race they loved so well,
    Though exiled far away
      From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers,
        All of the olden time!

  III.

  His father drew the righteous sword
    For Scotland and her claims,
  Among the loyal gentlemen
    And chiefs of ancient names
  Who swore to fight or fall beneath
    The standard of King James,
  And died at Killiecrankie pass
    With the glory of the Graemes;
      Like a true old Scottish cavalier,
        All of the olden time!

  IV.

  He never owned the foreign rule,
    No master he obeyed,
  But kept his clan in peace at home,
    From foray and from raid;
  And when they asked him for his oath,
    He touched his glittering blade,
  And pointed to his bonnet blue,
    That bore the white cockade: 
      Like a leal old Scottish cavalier,
        All of the olden time!

  V.

  At length the news ran through the land—­
    THE PRINCE had come again! 
  That night the fiery cross was sped
    O’er mountain and through glen;
  And our old Baron rose in might,
    Like a lion from his den,
  And rode away across the hills
    To Charlie and his men,
      With the valiant Scottish cavaliers,
        All of the olden time!