Such is the valuable account of Lowe, given by Mr. Gillespie. The editor, will here shortly and what he was able himself to discover respecting the ballad of Mary's Dream,' among the peasantry of Galloway.

6

This ballad is extremely popular among them, but in a form materially different from the printed copy, long familiar to the public, which is entirely English. Their copy, if not altogether Scotch, is strongly sprinkled with it. But there is more than a mere difference of language ;-it extends to the imagery and scenery of the poem. Was this ballad originally written in English by Lowe, and gradually converted by the country people into language and imagery more congenial to them? Or was Lowe himself the author of both copies; and if so, which is the original? This is a curious inquiry. Yet it is an inquiry which the editor believes can lead but to one conclusion. He himself does not entertain a doubt that the Scotch copy is the original; but as the other has also its beauties, and has been long a favourite of the public, it would be charged upon him as presumption were he to exclude from this collection a ballad of such celebrity. He is induced therefore to insert here both the copies, that the public may award to which of them the preference is due.

MARY'S DREAM.

The moon had climb'd the highest hill, Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed

Her silver light on tow'r and tree; When Mary laid her down to sleep,

Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; When soft and low a voice was heard, Saying, Mary, weep no more for me.

She from her pillow gently rais'd

Her head to ask who there might be; She saw young Sandy shiv'ring stand, With visage pale and hollow ee;

* Build their nests.

O Mary, dear, cold is my clay,

It lies beneath a stormy sea;

Far, far from thee I sleep in death; So, Mary, weep no more for me.

• Three stormy nights and stormy days,
We toss'd upon the raging main;
And long we strove our bark to save,
But all our striving was in vain.
E'en then, when horror chill'd my blood,
My heart was fill'd with love for thee:
The storm is past, and I at rest;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

O maiden dear, thyself prepare,
We soon shall meet upon that shore,
Where love is free from doubt and care,
Loud crow'd the cock, the shadows fled.
And thou and I shall part no more!'
But soft the passing spirit said,
No more of Sandy could she see;
'Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!'

OLD WAY OF MARY'S DREAM.'
Where eagles big* aboon the Dee,
The lovely moon had climbed the hill
And like the looks of a lovely dame,
Brought joy to every bodies ee;
A' but sweet Mary, deep in sleep,
Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea;
A voice drapt saftly on her ear,
'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!
She lifted up her waukening een,
And there she saw her Sandy stand,
To see from whence the voice might be,

Pale bending on her his hollow ee!
'O Mary, dear, lament nae mair,
I'm in death's thrawst below the sea;
Thy weeping makes me sad in bliss,
'Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me!'

The wind slept when we left the bay,
But soon it waked and raised the main,
And God he bore us down the deep,
Who strave wi' him but strave in vain!
He stretched his arm, and took me up,
Tho' laith I was to gang but‡ thee,
I look frae heaven aboon the storm,
'Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me!"

Take off thae bride sheets frae thy bed, Which thou hast faulded down for me; Unrobe thee of thy earthly stoleI'll meet wi thee in Heaven hie.' Three times the gray cock flapt his wing, To mark the morning lift her ee, And thrice the passing spirit said, 'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!

THERE is a French camp in the Praça da Inquisiçan, the Praça do Commercio as well as in all the other principal squares of Lisbon. There is also another at Belam, and the castle at that place continues still to be garrisoned by the French. French troops are also quartered in many of the convents. In the Franciscan convent, immediately opposite to my lodgings, which is of immense extent, there is a whole regiment. They are still formidable to the inhabitants, and it is only sentinels at the outposts, and unfortunate stragglers, who fall victims to the dastardly revenge of the cowardly citizens. The head quarters of Junot, the duke of Abran. tes, are at the palace of Quintella, the great dealer in diamonds, who is called the richest merchant in Portugal. This man has proved to the French a most profitable pidgeon, and he has indeed been very handsomely plucked. The contributions levied upon his purse have been immense, but such has been his conduct that he is pitied by no one. On the arrival of the French, he gave a sumptuous entertainment to the generals and chief officers of the army, in hopes, doubtless, by this manoeuvre to ingratiate himself with the commander in chief. His guests seemed highly gratified with the civilities of their host, and surprised at such a display of opulence. The costly paintings which decorated the walls, of which many were productions of the most eminent masters of Italy, particularly attracted the notice of the general en chef, who is said to be a great connoisseur. So singularly had they hit his fancy, that he next morning despatched a messenger with a note to Quintella, complimenting him on the

taste he had shown in his collection, and requesting, as a favour, that the pictures might immediately be sent him by the bearer of the niessage. He also soon after took occasion to observe to his entertainer how much flattered he felt by his politeness, and how happy he was to see the affection he had manifested to the person of his master, the great Napoleon, observing at the same time, that as he had seen no house in Lisbon which he liked so well, he intended in future to confer on him the honour of residing in it himself. Quintella has accordingly ever since had the pleasure of maintaining the general and all his staff. He has been obliged to defray all the expenses of his household, and to supply all the splendid entertainments which have been given. The retinue of Junot that is quartered in the house, have drunk upwards of eighty pipes of wine belonging to their host. The French general also conceived for the wife of a Portugueze nobleman, an affection equally ardent as that which was excited by the palace of Quintella. His penchant, however, in this instance, was gratified with infinitely less reluctance than in the former. He does not appear disposed, after the proof he has given of his acquiescence, to trust himself among his countrymen by remaining behind, but he is to go in the same frigate to France which is destined to convey the general and his cara sposa. The conduct of the French commander in other instances has not apparently been marked by any particu lar cruelty or severity. Only one execution has taken place under his government. The contributions he has levied on the convents and churches have certainly been very heavy,

and immense treasures have been reaped from them. The gems, jew els, and precious stones, that glittered in such profusion, have all been rifled. The huge statues of massy silver, the golden and silver candlesticks, the ornaments of the altars, together with all the paraphernalia of superstition, have been laid hands on, melted down and coined. I saw piled up in the house of a merchant, bars of gold of immense value, which were part of the recovered plunder of the French: but the part which can or will be recovered is very small indeed. The Portugueze murmur greatly at the vast quantities of spoil which are every day embarking. This is not surprising, when they see loads borne continually by soldiers to the quays, who appear to totter under the weight of their burdens, and when they remember that the enemy came naked into the country. Articles the most bulky are carried off under the pretext of being baggage of the officers. Vast quantities of gold and silver have been coined by them since the invasion, which the Portugueze were obliged to receive at the nominal value; but these coins have since the convention of the Cintra depreciated greatly. The frigate which is appointed to convey Junot to France is so blocked up by what he takes away, that the officers of the ship complain of wanting room. He carries with him no less than twelve carriages of English manufacture. In the knapsacks of many of the private soldiers who were slain at Vimeira, gold and silver were found to the amount of two or three hundred pounds sterling. Had the plunder of Junot been confined solely to convents and churches; had he done nothing but "shake the bags of hoarding abbots," it would have been of small consequence to the public at large; but the contributions levied on opulent individuals were exceedingly oppressive, and in many instances, nearly ruinous. No class of the community were exempted from these exactions. Even the frail fair ones were taxed, and obliged

to take out licences to exercise their profession. The inhabitants accuse the French of violating the articles of the convention, by taking away such quantities of treasure. The Portugueze commander has even entered a protest against the proceedings of the English generals: objecting in very arrogant and harsh terms against every article of that treaty. One would even suppose, from the violent manner in which he thus puts in his veto, that he had actually had some concern himself in the battle of Vimeira. Indeed I understand he does claim the whole victory of that day, and his countrymen seem per fectly convinced of his title to it. It is this man whose conduct was so deservedly and severely reprehended in the despatches of the English general, as base and cowardly. He was repeatedly urged during the action to advance with his troops, but thinking with Falstaff, that the better part of valour was discretion, this prudent commander wisely thought proper to remain neuter until the fate of the day should be decided. He therefore kept a cautious distance as long as there was any doubt who would be victorious, and when this doubt was removed, like a skilful officer he brought in his gallant troops to share the glories of the battle. The most unpopular of the three French generals is Loison. If the stories related of his conduct be true they are disgraceful to him, not only as a soldier but as a man. At Leyria, in particular, his cruelties are said to have been excessive. The treatment which the unfortunate nuns at that place are said to have received from the soldiers under his command is such as would be too horrible to describe. It is only to be hoped, for the honour of human nature, that they are somewhat exaggerated. The people do not appear to entertain so much dislike of Junot as I imagined. My friend, Mr. T, has dined several times in his company, at the tables of General Beresford and Sir Arthur Wellesley. On all occasions he expresses the most sovereign contempt

for the people of this country, which sentiment he is at no pains to conceal from his own adherents. He speaks in high terms of admiration of the discipline, courage, and appear ance of the British troops, and observed that the French and English were the only two nations worthy to contend with each other. Junot is very partial to the English mode of living. Like them he is fond of dining at late hours, and of sitting long over his bottle. His appearance is martial, though not handsome. He is said to be a favorite general of Buonaparte, of whom the following circumstance, relative to the origin of Junot's promotion, is related. Having occasion during an engagement to send a despatch, and being unattended at the moment by any of his staff, he hastily demanded of some soldiers near him, if there was one among them that could write. One of them answered that he could, and instantly stept from the ranks. Buonaparte accordingly dictated to him a letter which was written on a drum head. Just as he had finished a ball struck the ground at his feet and covered him with dust, on which he cooly remarked that "it was a fortunate accident, as he wanted some sand." This sang froid so pleased the general that he promoted him on the spot.

Yesterday I saw the whole French army paraded. It was a most magnificent and imposing spectacle. The number on the field amounted to nearly twenty thousand. They were composed of full grown muscular veterans, though the countenances of many indicated extreme youth. Their appearance, especially that of the cavairy, was in the most eminent degree ferocious and martial. Their accoutrements differ essentially from those of the British troops. The heavy dragoons, or cuirassiers, wear helmets of brass, and breast-plates resembling the antient coats of mail, which they differ from only by being much thicker, and musket proof. These equipments are excessively

burthensome, and when once dismounted, they are rendered helpless, but in a charge their shock is dreadful. I also recently witnessed another very interesting sight. Four thousand Spanish troops who had been prisoners to the French, where assembled to receive arms presented them by the English, previous to their embarkation for Catalonia.

I have been several times to the Italian Opera, or Teatro de San Carlos since I arrived in Lisbon. This is the only amusement worth attending in the city. It is a very elegant theatre. The exterior, which is of Dorick architecture, is exceedingly handsome. Within it is fitted up in a style similar to the Opera House in London. The centre box, which was the royal seat, since the entrance of the French has been taken possession of by Junot, as the representative of his master, and decorated accordingly with the tricoloured flag. Before it a curtain is now very appropriately suspended. I was present at the first opera that was acted subsequent to the new order of things, when the united flags of Great Britain, Portugal, and Spain, were put up in the place of the French standard. This was received most loyally by the brave Portugueze who huzzaed and shouted very magnanimously. Their own flag being modestly stuck in the centre above the others. The orchestra is very excellent, and the vocal performers are said to be among the first in Europe. Catalani sung in this theatre for some years. It was at Lisbon that she married her blackguard husband, who was then a subaltern in the French service, and from hence she first visited London. The performances are twice a-week, of which Sunday is the most fashionable night: and the opera as well as all the other theatres are much more brilliantly attended then than on any other night in the week. The opera is about to be shut for want of encouragement. Young Vestris, and Angiolini, who are the principal dancers, are going to England.

Owing to the distresses of the times, this place of amusement, which is more expensive than the other theatres, is not well supported. Junot, while in power, contrived to effect a pretty general attendance. Finding that the house was but little frequent ed, and not being pleased when he was present to see the boxes empty, he caused cards to be issued to the different families of gentry and nobility, requesting he might be favoured on such a night with their company at the opera. The hint was immediately taken, and very few thought proper to neglect the invitation; as they not only felt pretty well assured that such a mark of disaffection would be remembered on the next contribution, but whether they attended or not they were under the necessity of paying for their places. There are one or two other theatres for the performance of Portugueze plays, of which the only one that is tolerably decent is called Teatro do Salitre. This is a very shabby edifice compared to the opera house. It is ill constructed, very narrow, and inconvenient. Being cheaper and more agreeable to the taste of the people, it is usually well attended. Nothing can be more wretched than their plays, tragedies especially; and as for the tragedians of the city, they are infinitely worse. I was present the other evening at the representation of a tragedy taken from the affecting history of Don Pedro and Ines do Castro. The story of these unfortunate lovers

"em cuya sorte "Formon duo anagrama, o amore, a morte" is well known, and has, I believe, furnished a ground-work to as many plays and poems in various languages, as any circumstance on record. Whether the tale is told in the simple words of the historian, or embellished by the melting touches, the exquisite poetry, and the glowing language of the Lusiad, it takes strong hold of the feelings, but as it was represented by these hempen homespuns it afforded

very tragical mirth. The performance was nearly on a par with the tedious brief scene of Pyramus and Thisbe, as enacted by the company of Messieurs Bottom and Quince. The part of Don Pedro, the hero of the play, was performed by the ugliest hound my eyes ever beheld. His features seemed fitted for no other stage than that under the management of Mr. Jack Ketch, and even this line of acting his appearance would disgrace. His dress was quite in character, nothing could be more appropriate. He wore a pair of Hessian boots, which had not, to judge by their colour, undergone the operation of brushing for the last half year, though to make atends for this defect, which was perhaps only a minute attention to stage propriety, and intended to mark the perturbed state of the lover's mind they were very prettily bedizened with gold tassels. The rest of his apparel consisted of a black satin indispensable, a striped waistcoat, and snuffcoloured coat. I did not see a clean face among the whole company. The curtain which was let down between the acts was not so well painted as I have seen in a Welch barn. After the tragedy followed a most execrable pantomimic farce, full of the grossest indecencies. In this the audience seemed to take great delight. tween the acts, when the musicians retired they blew the candles out, which being of tallow, perfumed the atmosphere very agreeably. This shows that they are good economists. Low as the situation of the stage is, it has undergone in one respect an improvement. Only four or five years ago women were not permitted to appear on it. Their parts were supplied by men dressed in female apparel. A huge hulking fellow, with broad shoulders and a black beard, was then the only representative of an Ines, or a Juliet. How exquisitely tender must this have been. The prohibition is said to have proceeded from the Queen's scrupulous regard to the morals of her subjects. Evil minded per

Be