this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vént! to my eternal abhòrrence of such enormous and prepòsterous principles. EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. NEWS of battle!-news of battle! Greetings from our gallant king? All last night we watched the beacons All night long the northern streamers News of battle! who hath brought it? Man-is this a time to wait?" Spearless hangs a bloody banner In his weak and drooping hand- Round him crush the people, crying, Then he lifts his riven banner, And the asker's voice is dumb. The elders of the city Have met within their hall The men whom good King James had charged "Your hands are weak with age," he said, Or, if it be the will of heaven Then man the walls like burghers stout, And fight while fight you may. 'Twere better that in fiery flame The roof should thunder down, Than that the foot of foreign foe Should trample in the town!" Then in came Randolph Murray,- They fell upon his corslet, And none who then beheld him But straight were smote with fear, And their sons were with the king. Oh, woeful now was the old man's look, And he spake right heavily— "Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings, However sharp they be! Woe is written on thy visage, Death is looking from thy face: Speak! though it be of overthrowIt cannot be disgrace!" Right bitter was the agony That wrung that soldier proud: And thrice he groaned aloud. To the old man's shaking hand, It was guarded well and long, As the archers laid them low, There is more than honour there, Steeped in such a costly dye; Where no other shroud shall lie. Keep it as a sacred thing, Was the life-blood of your king!" Woe, woe, and lamentation ! What a piteous cry was there! Widows, maidens, mothers, children, * * * * "O the blackest day for Scotland [WALTER SCOTT, the son of a writer to the Signet, was born in Edinburgh in 1771. After studying at the High School and the University of Edinburgh, he was trained to the legal profession, and passed as an advocate in 1792. He afterwards abandoned his profession, and resolved to make literature the basis of his fortune, when he witnessed the great popularity of his "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." He then published in rapid succession "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," "Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," &c., when his poetical reputation reached its culminating point, as the rising poetical star of Lord Byron was now paling every other fire. Scott now commenced that series of novels which chiefly constitute his passport to fame. He died at Abbotsford in 1832. His novels are, "Waverley," "Tales of my Landlord," "Ivanhoe," "The Heart of Mid-Lothian, &c.] WILLIAM WALLACE was none of the high nobles of Scotland, but the son of a private gentleman called Wallace of Ellerslie, in Renfrewshire. He was very tall and handsome, and one of the strongest and bravest men that ever lived. He had a very fine countenance, with a quantity of fair hair, |