tion of surrendering it. The Turks carried him to the quarters of the pasha, some taking hold of his legs, and others of his arms, in the same manner as sick persons are carried to prevent their being hurt. The moment the king found himself taken prisoner, the violence of his temper, and the fury which such a long and desperate fight must have naturally inspired, gave place at once to a mild and gentle behavior. He dropped not a word of impatience, nor was an angry look to be seen in his face. He regarded the janizaries with a smiling countenance; and they carried him off, crying "Alla," with an indignation mixed at the same time with respect. His officers were taken at the same time, and stripped by the Turks and Tartars. It was on the 12th of February, 1713, that this strange event happened, which was followed with very singular consequences. MY DEAR AND ONLY LOVE. BY JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. [JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE, was born at Edinburgh in 1612; and after studying at St. Andrew's University, and traveling three years on the Continent, joined the Covenanters against Charles I. in 1638. Their policy drove him to the side of the king the next year, and he became the ablest general Charles had, winning several splendid victories in Scotland; but his Highland allies deserted him when he wished to act on a wider field, the outrages of his Irish soldiers roused the horror and fury of the Lowlanders, and he was finally beaten and driven from the kingdom. Returning in 1650 with a small force, he was defeated and captured, and hanged in Edinburgh, May 21.] PART FIRST. My dear and only love, I pray, This noble world of thee For if confusion have a part, Which virtuous souls abhore, Like Alexander I will reign, My thoughts shall evermore disdain He either fears his fate too much, But I must rule and govern still If in the empire of thy heart, But if thou wilt be constant then, I'll serve thee in such noble ways I'll crown and deck thee all with bays, PART SECOND. My dear and only love, take heed, But if thou let thy heart fly out, Let not their oaths, like volleys shot, Make any breach at all; Nor smoothness of their language plot I think thy virtues be too strong Those victualed by my love so long, Or if by fraud, or by consent, Nor march by tuck of drum; Thy falsehood to deplore, And bitterly will sigh and weep, I'll do with thee as Nero did And scorn to shed a tear to see Yet, for the love I bore thee once, That every pilgrim passing by May pity and deplore My case, and read the reason why The golden laws of love shall be Upon this pillar hung, |