To hero bound for battle-strife,

Or bard of martial lay,

'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
One glance at their array!
Their light-arm'd archers far and near
Survey'd the tangled ground,

Their centre ranks, with pike and spear,

A twilight forest frown'd, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, The stern battalia crown'd. No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang, Still were the pipe and drum ; Save heavy tread, and armour's clang,

The sullen march was dumb.

There breathed no wind their crests to shake,

Or wave their flags abroad;

Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake,
That shadow'd o'er their road.
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring,
Can rouse no lurking foe,
Nor spy a trace of living thing,

Save when they stirr'd the roe;
The host moves like a deep-sea wave,
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave,
High-swelling, dark, and slow.
The lake is pass'd, and now they gain
A narrow and a broken plain,
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws;
And here the horse and spearmen pause,
While, to explore the dangerous glen,
Dive through the pass the archer-men.
At once there rose so wild a yell
Within that dark and narrow dell,
As all the fiends, from heaven that fell,
Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell!

Forth from the pass in tumult driven,
Like chaff before the wind of heaven,

The archery appear :

For life! for life! their plight they ply-
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry,
And plaids and bonnets waving high,
And broadswords flashing to the sky,
Are maddening in the rear.
Onward they drive, in dreadful race,
Pursuers and pursued ;

Before that tide of flight and chase,
How shall it keep its rooted place,

The spearmen's twilight wood ?—

'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down!
Bear back both friend and foe!'-
Like reeds before the tempest's frown,
That serried grove of lances brown
At once lay levell'd low;
And closely shouldering side to side,
The bristling ranks the onset bide.-
'We'll quell the savage mountaineer,
As their Tinchel cows the game!
They come as fleet as forest deer,
We'll drive them back as tame.'-
(From The Lady of the Lake.)

O, Brignall Banks.

O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen.

And as I rode by Dalton-hall,
Beneath the turrets high,

A maiden on the castle wall
Was singing merrily-

Chorus 'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green;

I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen.'-

'If, maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down?

And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,

Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed,
As blithe as Queen of May.'-

Chorus-Yet sung she, Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen.

'I read you, by your bugle horn,
And by your palfrey good,

I read you for a ranger sworn,
To keep the king's greenwood.'-
'A ranger, lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;

His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'-
Chorus-Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay;

I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!
'With burnish'd brand and musketoon,
So gallantly you come,

I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.'-

'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;

But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

Chorus- And, O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,

A nameless death I'll die;

The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead,
Were better mate than I !

And when I'm with my comrades met.
Beneath the greenwood bough,

What once we were we all forget,

Nor think what we are now.

Chorus 'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,

And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen.'

A Weary Lot is Thine.

(From Rokeby.)

'A weary lot is thine, fair maid,

A weary lot is thine!

To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine!

Proud Maisie is in the wood,

Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
Singing so rarely.

'Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I marry me?'—
"When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.'
'Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly?'—
'The grey-headed sexton

That delves the grave duly.

'The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady. The owl from the steeple sing, "Welcome, proud lady."

(From The Heart of Midlothian.)

St Mary's.

When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone, Something, my friend, we yet may gain; There is a pleasure in this pain:

It soothes the love of lonely rest,

Deep in each gentler heart impress'd.
'Tis silent amid worldly toils,
And stifled soon by mental broils;
But, in a bosom thus prepared,

Its still small voice is often heard,
Whispering a mingled sentiment,
'Twixt resignation and content.
Oft in my mind such thoughts awake,
By lone Saint Mary's silent lake;
Thou know'st it well-nor fen, nor sedge,
Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge;
Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink
At once upon the level brink;
And just a trace of silver sand
Marks where the water meets the land.
Far in the mirror, bright and blue,
Each hill's huge outline you may view;
Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake, is there,
Save where, of land, yon slender line
Bears thwart the lake the scatter'd pine.
Yet even this nakedness has power,
And aids the feeling of the hour:

Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy,

Where living thing concealed might lie;
Nor point, retiring, hides a dell,

Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell; 'There's nothing left to fancy's guess,

You see that all is loneliness:

And silence aids-though the steep hills
Send to the lake a thousand rills;

In summer tide, so soft they weep,
The sound but lulls the ear asleep;
Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude,
So stilly is the solitude.

Nought living meets the eye or ear,
But well I ween the dead are near;
For though, in feudal strife, a foe
Hath lain Our Lady's chapel low,
Yet still, beneath the hallow'd soil,
The peasant rests him from his toil,
And, dying, bids his bones be laid,
Where erst his simple fathers pray'd.

(From Introduction to Canto ii. of Marmion.)

Harlaw.

As the Antiquary lifted the latch of the hut, he was surprised to hear the shrill tremulous voice of Elspeth chanting forth an old ballad in a wild and doleful recitative

'The herring loves the merry moonlight,

The mackerel loves the wind,

But the oyster loves the dredging sang,
For they come of a gentle kind.'

A diligent collector of these legendary scraps of ancient poetry, his foot refused to cross the threshold when his ear was thus arrested, and his hand instinctively took pencil and memorandum-book. From time to time the old woman spoke as if to the children-' Oh ay, hinnies, whisht! whisht! and I'll begin a bonnier ane than that

'Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle,
And listen, great and sma',

And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl

That fought on the red Harlaw.

'The cronach 's cried on Bennachie,

And doun the Don and a',

And hieland and lawland may mournfu' be

For the sair field of Harlaw.

I dinna mind the neist verse weel-my memory's failed, and there's unco thoughts come ower me-God keep us frae temptation!'

Here her voice sunk in indistinct muttering.

'It's a historical ballad,' said Oldbuck, eagerly, 'a genuine and undoubted fragment of minstrelsy! Percy would admire its simplicity-Ritson could not impugn its authenticity.'

'Ay, but it's a sad thing,' said Ochiltree, 'to see human nature sae far owertaen as to be skirling at auld sangs on the back of a loss like hers.'

'Hush! hush!' said the Antiquary-' she has gotten the thread of the story again.'-And as he spoke, she sung

'They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,
They hae bridled a hundred black,
With a chafron of steel on each horse's head,
And a good knight upon his back.'-

'Chafron!' exclaimed the Antiquary,-' equivalent, perhaps, to cheveron ;-the word 's worth a dollar,'—and down it went in his red book.

'They hadna ridden a mile, a mile,

A mile, but barely ten,

When Donald came branking down the brae
Wi' twenty thousand men.

'Their tartans they were waving wide,
Their glaives were glancing clear,
Their pibrochs rung frae side to side,
Would deafen ye to hear.

'The great Earl in his stirrups stood

That Highland host to see:

Now here a knight that 's stout and good

May prove a jeopardie :

"What wouldst thou do, my squire so gay,

That rides beside my reyne,

Were ye Glenallan's Earl the day,

And I were Roland Cheyne?

""To turn the rein were sin and shame,

To fight were wondrous peril,

What would ye do now, Roland Cheyne,
Were ye Glenallan's Earl?"

Ye maun ken, hinnies, that this Roland Cheyne, for as poor and auld as I sit in the chimney-neuk, was my forebear, and an awfu' man he was that day in the fight, but specially after the Earl had fa'en, for he blamed himsell for the counsel he gave, to fight before Mar came up wi' Mearns, and Aberdeen, and Angus.'

Her voice rose and became more animated as she recited the warlike counsel of her ancestor

""Were I Glenallan's Earl this tide,
And ye were Roland Cheyne,
The spur should be in my horse's side,
And the bridle upon his mane.

"If they hae twenty thousand blades,
And we twice ten times ten,

Yet they hae but their tartan plaids,

And we are mail-clad men.

"My horse shall ride through ranks sae rude,
As through the moorland fern,

Then ne'er let the gentle Norman blude
Grow cauld for Highland kerne."'

'Do you hear that, nephew?' said Oldbuck ;-' you observe your Gaelic ancestors were not held in high repute formerly by the Lowland warriors.'

'I hear,' said Hector, 'a silly old woman sing a silly old song. I am surprised, sir, that you, who will not listen to Ossian's songs of Selma, can be pleased with such trash. I vow, I have not seen or heard a worse halfpenny ballad; I don't believe you could match it in any pedlar's pack in the country. I should be ashamed to think that the honour of the Highlands could be affected by such doggrel.’—And, tossing up his head, he snuffed the air indignantly.

Apparently the old woman heard the sound of their voices; for, ceasing her song, she called out, ‘Come in, sirs, come in-good-will never halted at the door-stane.'

They entered, and found to their surprise Elspeth alone, sitting ghastly on the hearth,' like the personification of Old Age in the Hunter's song of the Owl, 'wrinkled, tattered, vile, dim-eyed, discoloured, torpid.'

'They're a' out,' she said, as they entered; but an ye will sit a blink, somebody will be in. If ye hae business wi' my gude-daughter, or my son, they'll be in belyve, I never speak on business mysell. Bairns, gie them seats-the bairns are a' gane out, I trow,'-looking around her ;-'I was crooning to keep them quiet a wee while since; but they hae cruppen out some gate. Sit down, sirs, they 'll be in belyve;' and she dismissed her spindle from her hand to twirl upon the floor, and soon seemed exclusively occupied in regulating its motion, as unconscious of the presence of the strangers as she appeared indifferent to their rank or business there.

'I wish,' said Oldbuck, she would resume that canticle, or legendary fragment. I always suspected there was a skirmish of cavalry before the main battle of the Harlaw.'

'If your honour pleases,' said Edie, 'had ye not better proceed to the business that brought us a' here? I'se engage to get ye the sang ony time.'

(From The Antiquary.) Neist, next; unco, strange; belyve, presently; cruppen, crept.

Dandie Dinmont and Counsellor Pleydell. Dinmont, who had pushed after Mannering into the room, began with a scrape of his foot and a scratch of his head in unison. 'I am Dandie Dinmont, sir, of the Charlies-hope-the Liddesdale lad-ye'll mind me? It was for me you won yon grand plea.'

'What plea, you loggerhead?' said the lawyer; 'd' ye think I can remember all the fools that come to plague me?'

'Lord, sir, it was the grand plea about the grazing o' the Langtae-head,' said the farmer.

'Well, curse thee, never mind;-give me the memorial, and come to me on Monday at ten,' replied the learned counsel.

'But, sir, I haena got ony distinct memorial.' 'No memorial, man?' said Pleydell.

'Na, sir, nae memorial,' answered Dandie; 'for your honour said before, Mr Pleydell, ye'll mind, that ye liked best to hear us hill-folk tell our ain tale by word o' mouth.'

'Beshrew my tongue that said so!' answered the counsellor; it will cost my ears a dinning.-Well, say in two words what you 've got to say-you see the gentleman waits.'

'Ou, sir, if the gentleman likes he may play his ain spring first; it 's a' ane to Dandie.'

'Now, you looby,' said the lawyer, 'cannot you conceive that your business can be nothing to Colonel Mannering, but that he may not choose to have these great ears of thine regaled with his matters?'

'Aweel, sir, just as you and he like, so ye see to my business,' said Dandie, not a whit disconcerted by the roughness of this reception. We're at the auld wark o' the marches again, Jock o' Dawston Cleugh and me. Ye see we march on the tap o' Touthop-rigg after we pass the Pomoragrains; for the Pomoragrains, and Slackenspool, and Bloodylaws, they come in there, and they belang to the Peel; but after ye pass Pomoragrains at a muckle great saucer-headed cutlugged stane, that they ca' Charlies Chuckie, there Dawston Cleugh and Charlies-hope they march. Now, I say, the march rins on the tap o' the hill where the wind and water shears ; but Jock o' Dawston Cleugh again, he contravenes that, and says that it hauds down by the auld drove-road that

gaes awa by the Knot o' the Gate ower to Keeldar-ward -and that makes an unco difference.'

And what difference does it make, friend?' said Pleydell. 'How many sheep will it feed?'

'Ou, no mony,' said Dandie, scratching his head; 'it's lying high and exposed-it may feed a hog, or aiblins twa in a good year.'

'And for this grazing, which may be worth about five shillings a-year, you are willing to throw away a hundred pound or two?'

'Na, sir, it's no for the value of the grass,' replied Dinmont; 'it's for justice.'

'My good friend,' said Pleydell, 'justice, like charity, should begin at home. Do you justice to your wife and family, and think no more about the matter.'

Dinmont still lingered, twisting his hat in his hand'It's no for that, sir-but I would like ill to be bragged wi' him;-he threeps he'll bring a score o' witnesses and mair-and I'm sure there's as mony will swear for me as for him, folk that lived a' their days upon the Charlies-hope, and wadna like to see the land lose its right.'

'Zounds, man, if it be a point of honour,' said the lawyer, why don't your landlords take it up?'

'I dinna ken, sir' (scratching his head again); 'there's been nae election-dusts lately, and the lairds are unco neighbourly, and Jock and me cannot get them to yoke thegither about it a' that we can say; but if ye thought we might keep up the rent '

'No! no! that will never do,' said Pleydell ;'confound you, why don't you take good cudgels and settle it?'

'Od, sir,' answered the farmer, 'we tried that three times already that's twice on the land and ance at Lockerby fair. But I dinna ken-we're baith gey good at single-stick, and it couldna weel be judged.'

Then take broadswords, and be d-d to you, as your fathers did before you,' said the counsel learned

in the law.

'Aweel, sir, if ye think it wadna be again the law, it's a' ane to Dandie.'

'Hold! hold!' exclaimed Pleydell, 6 we shall have another Lord Soulis' mistake-Pr'ythee, man, comprehend me; I wish you to consider how very trifling and foolish a lawsuit you wish to engage in.'

Ay, sir?' said Dandie, in a disappointed tone. 'So ye winna take on wi' me, I'm doubting?'

'Me! not I-Go home, go home, take a pint and agree.' Dandie looked but half contented, and still remained stationary. Anything more, my friend?'

'Only, sir, about the succession of this leddy that's dead-auld Miss Margaret Bertram o' Singleside.'

Ay, what about her?' said the counsellor, rather surprised.

'Ou, we have nae connection at a' wi' the Bertrams,' said Dandie-'they were grand folk by the like o' us.But Jean Liltup, that was auld Singleside's housekeeper, and the mother of these twa young ladies that are gane -the last o' them's dead at a ripe age, I trow-Jean Liltup came out o' Liddel water, and she was as near our connection as second cousin to my mother's half sister. She drew up wi' Singleside, nae doubt, when she was his housekeeper, and it was a sair vex and grief to a' her kith and kin. But he acknowledged a marriage, and satisfied the kirk-and now I wad ken frae you if we hae not some claim by law?'

Monkbarns and Saunders Mucklebackit. The Antiquary, as we informed the reader in the end of the thirty-first chapter, had shaken off the company of worthy Mr Blattergowl, although he offered to entertain him with an abstract of the ablest speech he had ever known in the teind court, delivered by the procurator for the church in the remarkable case of the parish of Gatherem. Resisting this temptation, our senior preferred a solitary path, which again conducted him to the cottage of Mucklebackit. When he came in front of the fisherman's hut, he observed a man working intently, as if to repair a shattered boat which lay upon the beach, and going up to him was surprised to find it was Mucklebackit himself. 'I am glad,' he said in a tone of sympathy-I am glad, Saunders, that you feel yourself able to make this exertion.'

'And what would ye have me to do,' answered the fisher gruffly, unless I wanted to see four children starve, because ane is drowned? It's weel wi' you gentles, that can sit in the house wi' handkerchers at your een when ye lose a friend; but the like o' us maun to our wark again, if our hearts were beating as hard as my hammer.'

Without taking more notice of Oldbuck, he proceeded in his labour; and the Antiquary, to whom the display of human nature under the influence of agitating passions was never indifferent, stood beside him, in silent attention, as if watching the progress of the work. He observed more than once the man's hard features, as if by the force of association, prepare to accompany the sound of the saw and hammer with his usual symphony of a rude tune, hummed or whistled,-and as often a slight twitch of convulsive expression showed that ere the sound was uttered, a cause for suppressing it rushed upon his mind. At length, when he had patched a considerable rent, and was beginning to mend another, his feelings appeared altogether to derange the power of attention necessary for his work. The piece of wood which he was about to nail on was at first too long; then he sawed it off too short, then chose another equally ill adapted for the purpose. At length, throwing it down in anger, after wiping his dim eye with his quivering hand, he exclaimed, 'There is a curse either on me or on this auld black bitch of a boat, that I have hauled up high and dry, and patched and clouted sae mony years, that she might drown my poor Steenie at the end of them, an' be d-d to her!' and he flung his hammer against the boat, as if she had been the intentional cause of his misfortune. Then recollecting himself, he added, 'Yet what needs ane be angry at her, that has neither soul nor sense?-though I am no that muckle better mysell. She's but a rickle o' auld rotten deals nailed

thegither, and warped wi' the wind and the sea-and I am a dour carle, battered by foul weather at sea and land till I am maist as senseless as hersell. She maun be mended though again the morning tide-that's a thing o' necessity.'

Thus speaking, he went to gather together his instruments, and attempt to resume his labour,-but Oldbuck took him kindly by the arm. 'Come, come,' he said, Saunders, there is no work for you this day. I'll send down Shavings the carpenter to mend the boat, and he may put the day's work into my account-and you had better not come out to-morrow, but stay to comfort your family under this dispensation, and the gardener will bring you some vegetables and meal from Monkbarns.'

'I thank ye, Monkbarns,' answered the poor fisher; 'I am a plain-spoken man, and hae little to say for mysell; I might hae learned fairer fashions frae my mither lang syne, but I never saw muckle gude they did her; however, I thank ye. Ye were aye kind and neighbourly, whatever folk says o' your being near and close; and I hae often said, in thae times when they were ganging to raise up the puir folk against the gentles -I hae often said ne'er a man should steer a hair touching to Monkbarns while Steenie and I could wag a finger-and so said Steenie too. And, Monkbarns, when ye laid his head in the grave (and mony thanks for the respect), ye saw the mouls laid on an honest lad that likit you weel, though he made little phrase about it.' (From The Antiquary.)

Dour carle, stiff, rough fellow; the mouls, the mould, earth.

Cuddie Headrigg and Mause.

Cuddie, whose malady, real or pretended, still detained him in bed, lay perdu during all this conference, snugly ensconced within his boarded bedstead, and terrified to death lest Lady Margaret, whom he held in hereditary reverence, should have detected his presence, and bestowed on him personally some of those bitter reproaches with which she loaded his mother. But as soon as he thought her ladyship fairly out of hearing, he bounced up in his nest.

'The foul fa' ye, that I suld say sae,' he cried out to his mother, for a lang-tongued clavering wife, as my father, honest man, aye ca'd ye! Couldna ye let the leddy alane wi' your whiggery? And I was e'en as great a gomeral to let ye persuade me to lie up here amang the blankets like a hurcheon, instead o' gaun to the wappenschaw like other folk.-Od, but I put a trick on ye, for I was out at the window-bole when your auld back was turned, and awa' down by to hae a baff at the popinjay, and I shot within twa on 't. I cheated the leddy for your clavers, but I wasna gaun to cheat my joe. But she may marry whae she likes now, for I'm clean dung ower. This is a waur dirdum than we got frae Mr Gudyill when he garr'd me refuse to eat the plum-porridge on Yule-eve, as if it were ony matter to God or man whether a pleughman had suppit on minched pies or sour sowens.'

'Oh, whisht, my bairn! whisht!' replied Mause; 'thou kensna about thae things-It was forbidden meat, things dedicated to set days and holidays, which are inhibited to the use of Protestant Christians.'

'And now,' continued her son, 'ye hae brought the leddy hersell on our hands! An I could but hae gotten some decent claes in, I wad hae spanged out o' bed, and

tauld her I wad ride where she liked, night or day, an she wad but leave us the free house, and the yard that grew the best early kale in the haill country, and the cow's grass.'

'O wow! my winsome bairn, Cuddie,' continued the old dame, 6 'murmur not at the dispensation; never grudge suffering in the gude cause.'

'But what ken I if the cause is gude or no, mither,' rejoined Cuddie, ' for a' ye bleeze out sae muckle doctrine about it? It's clean beyond my comprehension a'thegither. I see nae sae muckle difference atween the twa ways o't as a' the folk pretend. It's very true the curates read aye the same words ower again; and if they be right words, what for no?-a gude tale's no the waur o' being twice tauld, I trow; and a body has aye the better chance to understand it. Everybody's no sae gleg at the uptake as ye are yoursell, mither.'

'O, my dear Cuddie, this is the sairest distress of a',' said the anxious mother. 'O, how aften have I shown ye the difference between a pure evangelical doctrine, and ane that's corrupt wi' human inventions? O, my bairn, if no for your ain saul's sake, yet for my grey hairs

'Weel, mither,' said Cuddie, interrupting her, what need ye mak sae muckle din about it? I hae aye dune whate'er ye bade me, and gaed to kirk whare'er ye likit on the Sundays, and fended weel for ye in the ilka days besides. And that's what vexes me mair than a' the rest, when I think how I am to fend for ye now in thae brickle times. I am no clear if I can pleugh ony place but the Mains and Mucklewhame; at least I never tried ony other grund, and it wadna come natural to me. And nae neighbouring heritors will daur to take us, after being turned aff thae bounds for non-enormity.'

'Non-conformity, hinnie,' sighed Mause, 'is the name that thae warldly men gie us.'

'Aweel, aweel-we'll hae to gang to a far country, maybe twall or fifteen miles aff. I could be a dragoon, nae doubt, for I can ride and play wi' the broadsword a bit, but ye wad be roaring about your blessing and your grey hairs.' (Here Mause's exclamations became extreme.) 'Weel, weel, I but spoke o't; besides, ye're ower auld to be sitting cocked up on a baggage-waggon, wi' Eppie Dumblane, the corporal's wife. Sae what's to come o' us I canna weel see-I doubt I'll hae to take the hills wi' the wild whigs, as they ca' them, and then it will be my lot to be shot down like a mawkin at some dike-side, or to be sent to Heaven wi' a Saint Johnstone's tippet about my hause.'

'O, my bonny Cuddie,' said the zealous Mause, 'forbear sic carnal, self-seeking language, whilk is just a misdoubting o' Providence-I have not seen the son of the righteous begging his bread,-sae says the text; and your father was a douce honest man, though somewhat warldly in his dealings, and cumbered about earthly things, e'en like yoursell, my jo!'

'Aweel,' said Cuddie, after a little consideration, ‘I see but ae gate for 't, and that's a cauld coal to blaw at, mither. Howsomever, mither, ye hae some guess o' a wee bit kindness that's atween Miss Edith and young Mr Henry Morton, that suld be ca'd young Milnwood, and that I hae whiles carried a bit book, or maybe a bit letter, quietly atween them, and made believe never to ken wha it cam frae, though I ken'd brawly. There's whiles convenience in a body looking a wee stupid-and