A million of men had all mounted the scaffold,

And as many more, their attempts being baffl'd,
Were rested by looking at seats which abound,

Chaise longs, and chaise shorts in each field to be found.
The coaches struck cannons all one on another,
While all seem'd with heat and dust ready to smother;

A guinea an hour for the hacks they demand,

A fortune you'd make to drive one on a stand,

Yet each cramm'd so full, they seem'd ready to burst,

66

"A coach and a half take!" one man said, "you must!" The windows were let for a dollar an hour;

There none wish'd Macleod's fairy flag with the pow'r

To double their numbers, and multiply more,
For Babbage himself might exhaust all his lore.
As easily reckon'd the leaves on the trees,
That flutter on high in bright summer's soft breeze,
Or count where the loud ocean ceaselessly dashes,
The sands his wide wandering billow still washes,
Than number the bright stars, all glitt'ring you'll find
The swarms here collected shall leave all behind.

At least thirty thousand from Glasgow, or more,
From Galloway, Ayrshire, and Cupar, three score;

A troop flocks from Caithness and Islay's rough tides,
A myriad, at least, from Argyllshire besides,

A dozen from Kirkwall, Banff, Luss, and Portree,

And one from far Lerwick, the sight comes to see:
Count all who have liv'd in the moon, and count lots
From Maidenkirk heights on to far John o' Groats;
At grass who have liv'd, nor from home to be torn,
Like insects attach'd to the leaf where they're born.
Still hour after hour, in deep silence all sat,
If patient or not,-we dare not ask that!
As Indians "sit Dhurna," from day on to day,
Thus watching their Queen's coming none mov'd
But did Father Mathews himself there preside,
More sober and quiet they scarce could abide;
old gentlemen, during the day,

While many

Wore out their gold spectacles gazing away!

away.

The poor spent their holiday thus!—nought to eat, Yet perfectly calm, strong in hope kept their seat:'

1 One poor labourer from the country had expended his last half-crown that "his gude-wife" might see the Queen. Many hundreds had got leave of absence for that day only, and walked twenty or thirty miles for the oc

Their last shilling squander'd, their lease fast expiring,

Immoveable still,-their good humour's untiring.

Boreas though, rude to a proverb,--was adverse;
Alas! for the muse that must tell it in sad verse;

No landing that day could take place 'twas "much fear'd;"
The play 'twas of Hamlet-no Hamlet appear'd.
Then slowly and sadly the crowd all disperse,

On wings of vexation, tho' deeply averse;
And mortified carriages wheel'd all away,
Since vain it would be the whole night long to stay.

Now full twenty-thousand were strangers and homeless,
Who had they got beds, would all willingly roam less;
But wand'ring all night, they ascended the hill,
Where finding the bonfire prepar'd and all chill,
They lighted the pile, till it flam'd fierce and wide;
Which Fifeshire perceiving across the broad tide,
From coast to far coast, and from hill top to hill,
The bonfires blaz'd brightly, when morning broke still.

casion, and unluckily none of the working classes had been quite so provident as an industrious female, who was about, some years ago, to be hanged, and after mounting the scaffold, asked leave to "put in a few stitches while the crowd was assembling."

Like Scotts' picture drawn, of the country at stake,
When signal-fires blaz'd up of old by mistake.

Thus Scotland was burning, in flames all the night,'
Each bare scalp of rock now a rainbow of light.

1 These numerous bonfires occasioned great embarrassment during that night to the royal squadron. Of the pilots on board, one declined to act, but his coadjutor protested he knew the route as well by night as by day, and that the light on Inchkeith being a revolving one, he felt confident of recognising it accurately. In Fifeshire the coal pits had literally been turned upside down for the conflagration, and the Earl of Haddington ordered more than thirty carts of coal to be placed on the highest peak of Arthur's Seat.

CHAPTER V.

Lord Chatham with his sword undrawn,
Is waiting for Sir Richard Strachan;
Sir Richard, longing to be at 'em,

Is waiting for the Earl of Chatham.

Next day to Da Capo the first all were keen, Though truly it prov'd a far different scene!

The gun fir'd at seven to rouse in the morning,

Which all had been promis'd should give two hours' warning;

But long before then, a loud cry had been rais'd,

"Our Queen is safe landed, for which God be prais'd."

Was e'er such a scene of confusion and noise,

From men, women, children, the rabble, and boys!

Niagara's Falls are composure to this!

A nation all rushing their Queen not to miss!