He pierced her brother to the heart.

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisie wall: Bo perish all would true love part, That Love may still be lord of all! And then he took the cross divine,

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; And died for her sake in Palestine,

So Love was still the lord of all.

Now all ye lovers that faithful prove,
The sun shines fair on Cariisle wall;
Pray for their souls who died for love,
For Love shall still be lord of all!

Both Scots, and Southern chiefs, prolong
Applauses of Fitztraver's song:
These hated Henry's name as death,
And those still held the ancient faith,-
Then, from his seat, with lofty air,
Rose Harold, bard of brave St. Clair;
St. Clair, who, feasting high at Home,
Had with that lord to battle come.
Harold was born where restless seas
Howl round the storin-swept Orcades:
Where erst St. Clairs held princely sway
O'er isle and islet, strait and bay;-
Still nods their palace to its fall,
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall!-
Thence oft he mark'd fierce Pentland rave,
As if grim Odin rode her wave;
And watch'd, the whilst, with visage pale,
And throbbing heart, the struggling sail;
For all of wonderful and wild
Had rapture for the lonely child.

XXII.

And much of wild and wonderful
In these rude Isles might fancy cull;
For thither came, in times afar,
Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war;
The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood,
Skill'd to prepare the raven's food:
Their barks the dragons of the wave.
Kings of the main their leaders brave,
And there, in many a stormny vale,
The Scald had told his wondrous tale;
And many a Runic column high
Had witnessed grim idolatry.

XXIII.

And thus had Harold, in his youth, Learn'd many a Saga's rhyme uncouth,Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curl'd, Whose monstrous circle girds the world: Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell Maddens the battle's bloody swell;

Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom
By the pale death-lights of the tomb,
Ransack'd the graves of warriors old,
Their falchions wrench d from corpses' hold,
Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms,
And bade the dead arise to arms!
With war and wonder all on flame,
To Roslin's bowers young Harold came,
Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree,
He learn'd a milder minstrelsy:
Yet something of the Northern spell
Mix'd with the softer numbers well.

XXIV.

Harold.

O listen, listen, ladies gay!

No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely rosabelle.

"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,

Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
"The blackening wave is edged with white;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
The fishers have heard the Water Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
"Last night the gifted Seer did view

A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch:
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?"
""Tis not because Lord Lindsay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball;
But that my Ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

"Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindsay at the ring rides well;
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle."
O'er Roslin all that dreary night

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire light,
And redder than the bright moon-beam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,

It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen rom caverned Hawthornden.
Seemed all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie,
Each baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seemed all on fire, within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shong every pillar foliage-bound,

And glimmered all the dead men's mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair-
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold-

But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!

And each St. Clair was buried there.

With candle, with book, and with knell;

But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds

sung

The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.

XXV.

So sweet was Harold's piteous lay,

Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall, Though, long before the sinking day,

A wondrous shade involved them all:

* Inch, Isle.

C

Then sudden through the darkened air
A flash of lightning came:

So broad, so bright, so red the glare,
The castle seemed on flame;
Glanced every rafter of the hall,
Glanced every shield upon the wall;
Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone,
Were instant seen, and instant gone;
Full through the guests' bedazzled band
Resistless flashed the levin-brand,
And filled the hall with smouldering smoke,
As on the elvish Page it broke.

It broke with thunder long and loud,
Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud,
From sea to sea the larum rung;

On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal, To arms the startled warders sprang. When ended was the dreadful roar, The elvish Dwarf was seen no more!

XXVII.

Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall,
Some saw a sight, not seen by all;
That dreadful voice was heard by some,
Cry, with loud summons, "GYLBIN, COME!"
And on the spot where burst the brand,
Just where the Page had flung him down,
Some saw an arm, and some a hand,

And some the waving of a gown.
The guests in silence prayed and shook,
And terror dimmed each lofty look:
But none of the astonished train
Was so dismayed as Deloraine;
His blood did freeze, his brain did burn,
'Twas feared his mind would ne'er return.
For he was speechless, ghastly, wan,
Like him, of whom the story ran,
Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man.*
At length, by fits, he darkly told
With broken hint, and shuddering cold-
That he had seen, right certainly,
A shape with amice wrapped around,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea;
And knew-but how it mattered not-
It was the wizard, Michael Scott.

XXVIII.

The anxious crowd, with horror pale,
All trembling, heard the wondrous tale:
No sound was made, no word was spoke,
Till noble Angus silence broke:

And he a solemn sacred plight
Did to St. Bryde of Douglas make,
That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake
Then each, to ease his troubled breast,
Of Michael's restless sprite.

To some blessed saint his prayers addressed:
Some to St. Modan made their vows,

Some to St. Mary of the Lowes,
Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle,
Some to our Ladye of the Isle:
Each did his patron witness make,
That he such pilgrimage would take.

*The Isle of Man.-See Note.

And monks should sing, and bells should toll,
All for the weal of Michael's soul.

While vows were ta'en, and prayers were prayed,

"Tis said the noble Dame, dismayed, Renounced, for aye, dark magic's aid.

XXIX.

Nought of the bridle will I tell,

Which after in short space befell;

Nor how brave sons, and daughters fair,

Blessed Teviot's Flower and Cranstoun's heir:
After such dreadful scene, 'twere vain
To wake the note of mirth again:
More meet it were to mark the day
Of penitence and prayer divine,
When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array,
Sought Melrose' holy shrine.

XXX.

With naked foot, and sackcloth vest,
And arms enfolded on his breast,

Did every pilgrim go;

The standers-by might hear uncath,
Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath,
Through all the lengthened row:

No lordly look, no martial stride;
Gone was their glory, sunk their pride,
Forgotten their renown;

Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide
To the high altar's hallowed side,

And there they kneeled them down:
Above the suppliant chieftains wave
The banners of departed brave;
Beneath the lettered stones were laid
The ashes of their fathers dead;
From many a garnished niche around,
Stern saints and tortured martyrs frowned
XXXI.

And slow up the dim aisle afar,
With sable cowl and scapular,
And snow-white stoles, in order due,
The holy Fathers, two and two,
In long procession came;
Taper, and host, and book they bare,
And holy banner, flourished fair
With the Redeemer's name;
Above the prostrate pilgrim band
The mitred Abbot stretched his hand,
And blessed them as they kneeled;
With holy cross he signed them all,
And prayed they might be sage in hall,
And fortunate in field.

Then mass was sung, and prayers were said,
And solemn requiem for the dead;
And bells tolled out their mighty peal,
For the departed Spirit's weal;

And ever in the office close
The hymn of intercession rose,
And far the echoing aisles prolong
The awful burden of the song,-
DIES IRE, DIES ILLA,

SOLVET SÆCLUM IN FAVILLA;
While the pealing organ rung;
Were it meet with sacred strain
To close my lay, so light and vain,
Thus the holy Fathers sung.

HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?
When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead;
O! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!

Hushed is the harp-the Minstrel gone.
And did he wander forth alone?
Alone, in indigence and age,

To linger out his pilgrimage?
No:-close beneath proud Newark's tower,
Arose the Minstrel's lowly bower;
A simple hut; but there was seen
The little garden edged with green,
The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean.
There, sheltered wanderers, by the blaze,
Oft heard the tale of other days;
For much he loved to ope his door,
And give the aid he begged before.
So passed the winter's day! but still,
When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill
And July's eve, with balmy breath,
Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath;
When throstles sung in Hare-head shaw,
And corn were green on Carterhaugh,
And flourished, broad, Blackandro's oak,
The aged Harper's soul awoke!
Then would he sing achievements high,
And circumstance of chivalry,
Till the rapt traveller would stay,
Forgetful of the closing day;
And noble youths, the strain to hear,
Forsook the hunting of the deer;
And Yarrow, as he rolled along,
Bore burden to the Minstrel's song

In the reign of James I. Sir William Scott, of Buccleuch, chief of the clan bearing that name, exchanged, with Sir Thomas Inglis, of Manor, the estate of Murdiestone, in Lanarkshire, for one half of the barony of Branksome, or Branxholm, lying upon the Teviot, about three miles above Hawick. He was probably induced to this transaction, from the vicinity of Branksome to the extensive domain which he possessed in Ettricke Forest and in Teviotdale. In the former district he held by occupancy the estate of Buccleuch,t and much of the forest land on the river Ettricke. In Teviotdale, he enjoyed the barony of Eckford, by a grant from Robert II, to his ancestor, Walter Scott, of Kirkurd, for the apprehending of Gilbert Ridderford, confirmed by Robert III, 3rd May, 1424. Tradition imputes the exchange betwixt Scott and Inglis to a conversation, in which the latter, a man, it would appear, of a mild and forbearing nature, complained much of the injuries which he was exposed to from the English borderers, who frequently plundered his lands of Branksome. Sir William Scott instantly offered him the estate of Murdiestone, in exchange for that which was subject to such egregious inconvenience. When the bargain was completed, he drily remarked, that the cattle in Cumberland were as good as those of Teviotdale; and proceeded to commence a system of reprisals upon the English, which was regularly pursued by his successors. In the next reign, James II granted to Sir Walter Scott, of Branksome, and to Sir David, his son, the remaining half of the barony of Branksome. to be held in blanch for the payment of a red rose. The cause assigned for the grant is, their brave and faithful exertions in favour of the king against the house of Douglas, with whom James had been recently tugging for the throne of Scotland. This charter is dated the 2nd February, 1443; and, in the same month, part of the barony of Langholm, and many lands in Lanarkshire. were conferred upon Sir Walter and his son by the same monarch.

After the period of the exchange with Sir Thomas Inglis, Branksome became the principal seat of the Buccleuch family. The castle was enlarged and strengthened by Sir David Scott, the grandson of Sir William, its first possessor.

* Branxholm is the proper name of the barony; but Branksome has been adopted, as suitable to the pronunciation, and more proper for poetry. †There are no vestiges of any building at Buccleuch, except the site of a chapel, where, according to a tradition current in the time of Scott of Satchells, many of the ancient barons of Buccleuch lie buried. There is also said to have been a mill near this solitary spot; an extraordinary circumstance, little or no corn grows within several miles of Buccleuch. Satchells says it was used to grind corn for the hounds of the chieftain.

But, in 1570-1, the vengeance of Elizabeth, provoked by the inroads of Buccleuch, and his attachment to the cause of Queen Mary, destroyed the castle, and laid waste the lands of Branksome. In the same year the castle was repaired and enlarged by Sir Walter Scott, its brave possessor; but the work was not completed until after his death, in 1574, when the widow finished the building.

Branksome Castle continued to be the principal seat of the Buccleuch family, while security was any object in their choice of a mansion. It has been the residence of the commissioners or chamberlains of the family. From the various alterations which the building has undergone, it is not only greatly restricted in its dimensions, but retains little of the castellated form, if we except one square tower of massy thickness, being the only part of the original building which now remains. The whole forms a handsome, edifice can still be traced by some vestiges of its modern residence; but the extent of the ancient foundation; and its strength is obvious from the situation, on a deep bank surrounded by the Teviot, and flanked by a deep ravine, formed by a precipitous brook.

Nine-and-twenty knights of fame
Hung their shields in Branksome Hall.
--St. III, p. 5.

The ancient barons of Buccleuch, both from feudal splendour, and from their frontier situation, retained in their household, at Branksome, a number of gentlemen of their own name, who held lands from their chief, for the military service of watching and warding his castle. And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow.-St. v, p. 5.

"Of a truth," says Froissart, "the Scottish cannot boast great skill with the bow, but rather bear axes, with which, in time of need, they give heavy strokes." The Jedwood-axe was a sort of partizan, used by horsemen, as appears from the arms of Jedburgh, which bears a cavalier mounted, and armed with this weapon.

They watch against Southern force and guile,
Lest Scroope, or Howard, or Percy's powers,
Threaten Branksome's lordly towers,
From Warkworth or Naworth, or merry Carlisle.
-St, VI, p. 5.

Branksome Castle was continually exposed to the attacks of the English, both from its situation and the restless military disposition of its inhabitants, who were seldom on good terms with their neighbours. A letter from the Earl of Northumberland to Henry VIII, in 1533, gives an account of a successful inroad of the English, in which the country was plundered, up to the gates of the castle, although the invaders failed in their principal object, which was to kill or make prisoner the laird of Buccleuch.

marches of Scotland. His death was the consequence of a feud betwixt the Scotts and Kerrs, which in spite of all means used to bring about an agreement, raged for many years upon the Borders. Buccleuch was imprisoned, and his estates forfeited, in the year 1535, for levying war against the Kerrs, and restored by Act of Parliament, dated 15 March, 1542, during the regency of Mary of Lorraine. But the most signal act of violence, to which this quarrel gave rise, was the murder of Sir Walter himself, who was slain by the Kerrs in the streets of Edinburgh, in 1552. This is the event alluded to in Stanza VIII; and the poem is supposed to open shortly after it had taken piace

No! vainly to each holy shrine,

In mutual pilgrimage, they drew.-St. VIII, p. 5. Among other expedients resorted to for stanching the feud betwixt the Scotts and the Kerrs, there was a bond executed, in 1529, between the heads of each clan, binding themselves to perform reciprocally the four principal pilgrimages of Scotland, for the benefit of the souls of those of the opposite name who had fallen in the quarrel. This indenture is printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. I. But either it never took effect, or else the feud was renewed shortly afterwards.

Such pactions were not uncommon in feudal times; and, as might be expected, they were often, as in the present case, void of the effect desired. When Sir Walter Mauny, the renowned follower of Edward III, had taken the town of Ryoll, in Gascony, he remembered to have heard that his father lay there buried, and offered a hundred crowns to any one who could show him his grave. A very old man appeared before Sir Walter, and informed him of the manner of his father's death, and the place of his sepulture.

It seems the Lord of Mauny had, at a great tournament, unhorsed, and wounded to the death, a Gascon knight of the house of Mirepoix, whose kinsman was bishop of Cambray. For this deed, he was held at feud by the relations of the knight, until he agreed to undertake a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James of Compostella, for the benefit of the soul of the deceased. But as he returned through the town of Ryoll, after accomplishment of his vow, he was beset, and treacherously slain, by the kindred of the knight whom he had killed. Walter, guided by the old man, visited the lowly tomb of his father; and, having read the inscription, which was in Latin, he caused the body to be raised and transported to his native city of Valenciennes, where masses were, in the days of Froissart, duly said for the soul of the unfortunate pilgrim.

While Cessford owns the rule of Car.

Sir

-St. vIII, p. 5.

The family of Ker, Kerr, or Car,* was very powerful on the Border. Fynes Morrison remarks, in his Travels, that their influence extended from the village of Preston-Grange, in Lothian, to the limits of England. Cessford Castle, the ancient baronial residence of the family, is situated near the village of Morebattle, within two or three miles of the Cheviot Hills. It has been a place of great strength and consequence, but is now ruinous. Tradition affirms, that it was founded by Halbert, or Habby Keer, a gigantic warrior, concerning whom many stories are current in Roxburghshire. The Duke of Roxburghe represents Ker of Cessford. A distinct and powerful branch

*The name is spelled differently by the various families who bear it. Car is selected, not as the most correct, but as the most poetical reading.

of the same name own the Marquis of Lothian as their chief: hence the distinction betwixt Kerrs of Cessford and Fairnihirst.

Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed.
-St. x, p. 5.

The Cranstouns, Lord Cranstoun, are an ancient Border family, whose chief seat was at Crailing, in Teviotdale. They were at this time at feud with the clan of Scot; for it appears that the lady of Buccleuch, in 1557, beset the laird of Cranstoun, secking his life. Nevertheless, the same Cranstoun, or perhaps his son, was married to a daughter of the same lady.

Of Bethune's line of Picardie.-St. XI, p. 6. The Bethunes were of French origin, and derived their name from a small town in Artois. There were several distinguished families of the Bethunes in the neighbouring province of Picardie; they numbered among their descendants the celebrated Duc de Sully; and the name was accounted among the most noble in France, while ought noble remained in that country. The family of Bethune, or Beatoun, in Fife, produced three learned and dignified prelates; namely, Cardinal Beaton, and two successive archbishops of Glasgow, all of whom flourished about the date of the romance. Of this family was descended Dame Janet Beaton, Lady Buccleuch, widow of Sir Walter Scott of Branksome. She was a woman of masculine spirit, as appeared from her riding at the head of her son's clan, after her husband's murder. She also possessed the hereditary abilities of her family in such a degree, that the superstition of the vulgar imputed them to supernatural knowledge. With this was mingled, by faction, the foul accusation of her having influenced Queen Mary to the murder of her husband.

He learnt the art that none may name,

In Padua, far beyond the sea.-St. XI, p. 6. Padua was long supposed by the Scottish peasants to be the principal school of necromancy. The Earl of Gowrie, slain at Perth in 1600, pretended, during his studies in Italy, to have acquired some knowledge of the calaba, by which he said he could charm snakes and work other miracles.

His form no darkening shadow traced

Upon the sunny wall!-St. XI, p. 6.

The shadow of a necromancer is independent of the sun. Glyeas informs us, that Simon Magus caused his shadow to go before him, making people believe he was an attendant spirit. The vulgar conceive, that when a class of students have made a certain progress in their mystic studies, they are obliged to run through a subterranean hall, where the devil literally catches the hindermost in the race, unless he crosses the hall so speedily, that the arch-enemy can only apprehend his shadow. In the latter case, the person of the sage never after throws any shade; and those who have thus lost their shadow, always prove the best magicians.

The viewless forms of air.-St. XII, p. 6. The Scottish vulgar, without having any very defined notion of their attributes, believe in the siding in the air, or in the water; to whose existence of an intermediate class of spirits reagency they ascribe floods, storms, and al such phenomena as their own philosophy cannot readily explain. They are supposed to interfere in the affairs of mortals, sometimes with a malevolent purpose, and sometimes with milder views. It is said, for example, that a gallant baron, having returned from the Holy Land to his castle of Drummelziar, found his fair lady nursing a healthy child, whose