And gazers mark their changeful gleams, But feel no influence from their beams. By ties mysterious link'd, our fated race Look on my girdle-on this thread of gold— Hath 'minish'd in its substance and its strength, Maiden, attend! Beneath my foot lies hid To find, and canst not find.-Could Spirits shed For all the woes that wait frail Adam's lineStoop then and make it yours,-I may not mak it mine! Chap. xxx. THE WHITE LADY TO EDWARD THOU who seek'st my fountain lone, The Living Dead, whose sober brow Oft shrouds such thoughts as thou hast now, Prayer and vigil be thy doom; Chap. xxxu THE WHITE LADY'S FAREWELL FARE THEE WELL, thou Holly green! With all thy glittering garlands bending, Startling the bewilder'd hind, Chap. xvii. Who sees thee wave without a wind. THE WHITE LADY TO MARY AVENEL. MAIDEN, whose sorrows wail the Living Dead, Whose eyes shall commune with the Dead Alive, Farewell, Fountain! now not long MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Many a crest that is famous in story. Mount and make ready then, Sons of the mountain glen, (2.)-CHAP. II. In yon lone vale his early youth was bred. Not solitary then-the bugle-horn Of fell Alecto often waked its windings, (3.)-CHAP. V. A priest, ye cry, a priest !—lame shepherds they, (4.)-CHAP. VI. Now let us sit in conclave. That these weeds Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. We are, I trust; agreed.-Yet how to do this, 2. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding, War-steeds are bounding, Nor hurt the wholesome crop and tender vine Craves good advisement. plants, The Reformation. (5.)-CHAP. VIII. Nay, dally not with time, the wise man's treasur Stand to your arms, and march in good order, Hooks souls, while we waste moments. England shall many a day Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. (3.)-MOTTOES. (1.)-CHAP. I. Chap. xxv. O AY! the Monks, the Monks, they did the mischief! Theirs all the grossness, all the superstition And scatter'd all these pestilential vapors; And raised the last night's thunder. Old Play. From the Abbot. 1820. (1.)-THE PARDONER'S ADVERTISEMENT. "Ar length the pardoner pulled from his scrip a small phial of clear water, of which he vaunted the quality in the following verses:" Listneth, gode people, everiche one, And is the first londe the sonne espieth, Putteth this water under her nese, (2).-MOTTOES. (1.)-CHAP. V. Chap. xxvii. In the wild storm, The seaman hews his mast down, and the merchant Heaves to the billows wares he once deem'd pre cious: So prince and peer, 'mid popular contentions, Cast off their favorites. Old Play. (2.)-CHAP. VI. Thou hast each secret of the household, Francis. (3.)-CHAP. VIII. The sacred tapers' lights are gone, Gray moss has clad the altar stone, The holy image is o'erthrown, Then comes at once the lightning and the thun- For when the sun hath left the west, Death distant?-No, alas! he's ever with us, The Spanish Father. (15.)-CHAP. XXXIV. He chooses the tree that he loves the best, And he whoops out his song, and he laughs at his jest, Then, though hours be late, and weather foul, The lark is but a bumpkin fowl, Then up with your cup till you stagger in speech, Ay, Pedro,-Come you here with mask and lan- And drink till you wink, my merry men each; tern, Ladder of ropes, and other moonshine tools Why, youngster, thou may'st cheat the old Duenna, For, though hours be late, and weather be foul, owl. Chap. ii |