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1.

As e'er was seen with eye;

And this was what remained of all For there by magic skill, I wis,

The wealth of each enchanted hall, Form of each thing that living is

The Garland and the Dame :Was limned in proper dye.

But where should Warrior seek the meed, All seemed to sleep-the timid hare

Due to high worth for daring deed, On form, the stag upon his lair,

Except from LOVE and FAME!
The eagle in her eyrie fair

Between the earth and sky.
But what of pictured rich and rare
Could win De Vaux's eye-glance, where,
Deep slumbering in the fatal chair,

CONCLUSION.
He saw King Arthur's child!
Doubt, and anger, and dismay,
From her brow had passed away,

MY LUCY, when the maid is won,
Forgot was that fell tourney-day,

The Minstrel's task, thou know'st, is done. For, as she slept, she smiled.

And to require of bard It seemed that the repentant Seer

That to the dregs his tale should run, Her sleep of many a hundred year

Were ordinance too hard,
With gentle dreams beguiled.

Our lovers, briefly be it said,
XXXVIII.

Wedded as lovers wont to wed,

When tale or play is o'er;
That form of maiden loveliness,
Twixt childhood and 'twixt youth,

Lived long and blessed, loved fond and true,

And saw a numerons race renew That ivory chair, that sylvan dress,

The honours that they bore. The arms and ankles bare, express

Know, too, that when a pilgrim strays, Of Lyulph's tale the truth.

In morning mist or evening maze,
Still upon her garment's hem
Vanoc's blood made purple gem,

Along the mountain lone,

That fairy fortress often mocks And the warder of command

His gaze upon the castled rocks Cumbered still her sleeping hand;

Of the Valley of Saint John; Still her dark locks dishevelled flow

But never man since brave De Vaux From net of pearl o'er breast of snow:

The charmed portal won: And so fair the slumberer seems,

'Tis now a vain illusive show, That De Vanx impeached his dreams,

That melts whene'er the sunbeams glow, Vapid all and void of might,

Or the fresh breeze hath blown.
Hiding half her charms from sight.
Motionless a while he stands,
Folds his arms and clasps his hands,
Trembling in his fitful joy,

But see, my love, where far below
Doubtful how he shall destroy

Our lingering wheels are moving slow, Long-enduring-spell;

The whiles up-gazing still, Donbtful too, when slowly rise

Our menials eye our steepy way, Dark-fringed lids of Gyneth's eyes,

Marvelling, perchance, what whim can stay What these eyes shall tell.

Our steps when eve is sinking gray "St. George! St. Mary! can it be,

On this gigantic hill. That they will kindly look on me!"

So think the vulgar-Life and time

Ring all their joys in one dull chime
ΧΧΧΙΧ.

Of luxury and ease;
Gently, lo! the Warrior kneels,

And O! beside these simple knaves, Soft that lovely hand he steals,

How many better born are slaves Soft to kiss, and soft to clasp

To such coarse joys as these; But the warder leaves her grasp;

Dead to the nobler sense that glows Lightning flashes, rolls the thunder;

When Nature's grander scenes inclose. Gyneth startles from her sleep,

But, Lucy, we will love them yet, Totters tower, and trembles keep,

The mountain's misty coronet, Burst the Castle walls asunder!

The greenwood, and the wold; Fierce and frequent were the shocks,

And love the more, that of their maze Melt the magic halls away,

Adventure high of other days --But beneath their mystic rocks,

By ancient bards is told, In the arms of bold De Vaux,

Bringing, perchance, like my poor tale, Safe the Princess lay!

Some moral truth in fiction's veil: Safe and free from magic power,

Nor love them less, that o'er the hill Blushing like the rose's flower

The evening breeze, as now, comes chill; Opening to the day;

My love shall wrap her warm, And round the Champion's brows were bound And, fearless of the slippery way, The crown that Druidess had wound,

While safe she trips the heathy brac, Of the green laurel-bay.

Shall hang on Arthur's arm.

NOTES.

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INTRODUCTION.

CANTO SECOND.

The Monarch, breathless and amazed. Like Collins, thread the maze of Fauy land.

Back on the fatal castle gazed--INT., St. VIII, p. 244.

Nor tower nor donjon could he spy, Collins, according to Johnson, by indulging Darkening against the morning sky. some peculiar habits of thought, was eminently

- St. x, p. 248. delighted with those flights of imagination which __"We now gained a view of the Vale of St. pass the bounds of nature, and to which the | John's, & very narrow dell, hemmed in by mounmind is reconciled only by passive acquiescence tains, through which a small brook makes many in popular traditions. He loved fairies, genii, meanderings, washing little enclosures of grassgiants, and monsters; he delighted to rove I ground, which stretch up the rising of the hills. through the meanders of enchantment, to gaze In the widest part of the dale you are struck Om the magnificence of golden palaces, to re with the appearance of an ancient ruined castle, pose by the waterfalls of Elysian gardens." which seems to stand upon the summit of a little

mount, the mountings around forming an amphitheatre, This massive bulwark shows a front of various towers, and makes an awful, rude, and

Gothic appearance, with its lofty turrets and CANTO FIRST.

ragged battlements; we traced the galleries, the bending arches, the battresses. The greatest

antiquity stands characterised in its architecThe Baron of Triermain.-St. I, p. 244.

ture the inhabitants near it assert it is an anTriermain was a fief of the Barony of Gillsland, tediluvian structure. The traveller's curiosity in Cumberland: it was possessed by a Saxonis roused, and he prepares to make a nearer family at the time of the Conquest, but, "after approach, when that curiosity is put upon the the death of Gilmore, Lord of Tryeraine and rack, by his being assured, that, if he advances, Torcrossock, Hubert Vaux gave Tryermaine and certain genii who govern the place, by virtue of Torcrossock to his second son, Ranulph Vaux; their supernatural art and necromancy, will which Ranuloh afterwards became heir to his strip it of all its beauties, and by enchantment. elder brother Robert, the founder of Lanercost, transform the magic walls. The vale seems who died without issue. Ranulph, being Lord adapted for the habitation of such beings; its of all Gilsland, gave Gilsmore's lands to his gloomy recesses and retirements look like haunts younger son, named Roland, and let the Barony of evil spirits. There was no delusion in the descend to his eldest son Robert, son of Ranulph. | report; we were soon convinced of its truth: for Roland had issue Alexander, and he Ranulph, this piece of antiquity, so venerable and noble in after whom succeeded Robert, and they were its aspect, as we drew noar, changed its figure, named Rolands successively, that were lords and proved no other than a shaken massive pile thereof, until the reign of Edward the Fourth. I of rocks, which stand in the midst of this little That house gave for arms, Vert, a bend dexter. I vale, disunite from the adjoining mountains, chequy, or and gules" - BURN'S Antiguities of and have so much the real form and resemblance Westmoreland and Cumberland

of a castle, that they bear the name of the Castle

Rocks of St. John."-HUTCHINSON'S Excursion He pass'd red Penrith's Table Round. to the Lakes. -St. VII, p. 245.

The flower of Chiralry A circular intrenchment, about half a mile

There Galaad sate with manly grace, from Penrith, is thus popularly termed. The

Yet maiden meekness in his face; circle within the ditch is about one hundred and

There Moroit of the iron mace, sixty paces in circumference, with openings, or

And loce-lorn Tristrem there. approaches, directly opposite to each other. As

-St. XIII, p. 249. the ditch is on the inner side, it could not be in. The characters named in the stanza are all of tended for the purpose of defence, and it has them more or less distinguished in the romances reasonably been conjectured, that the enclosure which treat of King Arthur and his Round Table, was designed for the solemn exercise of feats of and their names are strung together according chivalry, and the embankment around for the I to the established custom of minstreis upon such convenience of the spectators.

occasions. Mayburgh's mound.-St. VII, p. 245.

Lancelot, that ever more Higher up the river Eamont than Arthur's

Look'd stolen-wise on the Queen Round Table, is a prodigions enclosure of great

-St. XIII, p. 249. antiquity, formed by a collection of stones upon

Upon this delicate subject hear Richard Robinthe top of a gently sloping hill, called Mayburgh.

son, citizen of London :-"But as it is a thing In the plain which it encloses there stands erect

sufficiently apparent that she (Guenever, wife of an inhew stone of twelve feet m height. Two

King Arthur,) was beautiful, so it is a thing similar masses are said to have been destroyed

doubted whether she was chaste, yea or no. during the memory of man. The whole appears

But yet the truth of the historie pluckes me by to be a monument of Druidical times.

the eare, and willeth not onely, but commandeth me to declare what the ancients have deemed of her."'-Assertion of King Arthure. Imprinted by John Wolfe, London, 1582.

named Ron succeeded pder, and hot Ranu

Bilar Richard: 249.

King Arth apparendon

THE VISION OF DON RODERICK.

A POEM.

"Quid dignum memorare tuis, Hispania, terris,

Vox humana valet!"-CLAUDIAN.

TO JOHN WHITMORE, ESQ., AND TO THE COMMITTEE OF SUBSCRIBERS FOR RELIEF OF THE

PORTUGUESE SUFFERERS, .

IN WHICH HE PRESIDES,

THIS POEM, COMPOSED FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE FUND UNDER THEIR MANAGEMENT, IS

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY

WALTER SCOTT.

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION, 1811.

THE following Poem is founded upon a Spanish tradition, particularly detailed in the Notes; bat bearing, in general, that Don Roderick, the last Gothic King of Spain, when the Invasion of the Moors was impending, had the temerity to descend into an ancient vault near Toledo, the opening of which had been denounced as fatal to the Spanish monarchy. The legend adds, that his rash curiosity was mortified by an emblematical representation of those Saracens who, in the year 714, defeated him in battle, and reduced Spain under their dominion. I have presumed to prolong the Vision of the Revolutions of Spain down to the present eventful crisis of the Peninsula; and to divide it, by a supposed change of scene, into THREE PERIODS. The FIRST of these represents the Invasion of the Moors, the Defeat and Death of Roderick, and closes with the peaceful occupation of the country by the Victors. The SECOND PERIOD embraces the state of the Peninsula, when the conquests of the Spaniards and Portuguese in the East and West Indies had raised to the highest pitch the renown of their arms; sullied, however, by superstition and cruelty. An allusion to the inhumanities of the Inquisition terminates this picture. The LAST PART of the Poem opens with the state of Spain previous to the unparalleled treachery of BUONAPARTE; gives a sketch of the usurpation attempted upon that unsuspicions and friendly kingdom, and terminates with the arrival of the British succours. It may be further proper to mention, that the object of the Poem is less to commemorate or detail particular incidents, than to exhibit a general and impressive picture of the several periods brought upon the stage.

I am too sensible of the respect due to the Public, especially by one who has already experienced more than ordinary indulgence, to offer any apology for the inferiority of the poetry to the subject it is chiefly designed to commemorate. Yet I think it proper to mention, that, while I was hastily executing a work, written for a temporary purpose, and on passing events, the task was most cruelly interrupted by the successive deaths of Lord President BLAIR, and Lord Viscount MELVILLE. In those distinguished characters, I had not only to regret persons whose lives were most important to Scotland, but also whose notice and patronage honoured my entrance upon active life; and I may add, with melancholy pride, who permitted my more advanced age to claim no common share in their friendship. Under such interruptions, the following verses, which my best and happiest efforts must have left far unworthy of their theme, have, I am myself sensible, an appearance of negligence and incoherence, which, in other circumstances, I might have been able to remove.

EDINBURGH, June 24, 1811.

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(See page 263. INTRODUCTION.

III.
But we, weak minstrels of a laggard day,

Skilled but to imitate an elder page,
Lives there a strain, whose sounds of mount-

Timid and raptureless, can we repay ing fire May rise distinguished o'er the din of war,

The debt thou claim'st in this exhausted Or died it with yon Master of the Lyre,

age? Who sung beleaguered Ilion's evil star?

Thou givest our lyres a theme, that might Such, WELLINGTON, might reach thee from

engage

Those that could send thy name o'er sea and afar,

land, Wafting its descent wide o'er Ocean's

While sea and land shall last; for Homer's range :

rage Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could

A theme; a theme for Milton's mighty mar

handAll as it swelled 'twixt each loud trumpet

How much unmeet for ris, a faint degenerate change, That clangs to Britain, victory, to Portugal,

band! revenge!

II. Yes! such a strain, with all-o'erpowering Ye monntains stern; within whose rugged measure,

breast Might melodise with each tumultuous sound, The friends of Scottish freedom found reEach voice of fear or triumph, woe or pleasure,

pose; That rings Mondego's ravaged shores Ye 'torrents! whose hoarse sounds have around:

soothed their rest, The thundering cry of hosts with conquest Returning from the field of vanquished foes; crowned,

Sav, have ye lost each wild majestic close, The female shriek, the ruined peasant's That erst the choir of bards or Druids flung, moan,

What time their hymn of victory arose, The shont of captives from their chains un-1 And Cattraeth's glens with voice of triumph bound,

rung, The folled oppressor's deep and sullen groan. And mystic Merlin harped, and gray-haired A Nation's choral hymn for tyranny o'erthrow,

Llywarch sung?

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XI. 0! if your wilds snch minstrelsy retain,

"There, of Numantian fire a swarthy spark As sure your changeful gales seem oft to

Still lightens in the sun-burnt native's eye: say,

The stately port, slow step, and visage dark, When sweeping wild and sinking soft again.

Still mark enduring pride and constancy. Like trumpet-jubilee, or harp's wild sway; And, if the glow of feudal chivalry If ye can echo such triumphant lay,

Beam not, as once, thy nobles' dcarest Then lend the note to him has loved you

pride, long!

Iberia! oft thy crestless peasantry Who pious gathered each tradition gray,

Have seen the plamed Hidalgo quit their That floats your solitary wastes along,

side; And with affection vain gave them new voice in Have seen, yet dauntless stood-'gainst fortune song

fought and died. VI.

XII. or not till now, how oft soe'er the task

Of truant verse hath lightened graver care, “And cherished still by that unchanging From muse or sylvan was he wont to ask,

race, In phrase poetic, inspiration fair;

Are themes for minstrelsy more high than Careless he gave his numbers to the air,

thine; They came unsought for, if applauses came; Of strange tradition many a mystic trace, Nor for himself perfers he now the prayer;

Legend and vision, prophecy and sign; Let but his verse befit a hero's fame,

Where wonders wild of Arabesque combine Immortal be the verse!-forgot the poet's name. With Gothic imagery of darker shade,

Forming a model ineet for minstrel line.
VII.

Go, seek such theme!"-the Mountain Spirit Hark, from yon misty cairn their answer

said: tossed;

With filial awe I heard-I heard, and I obeyed. "Minstrel! the fame of whose romantic

lyre, Capricious swelling now, may soon be lost,

Like the light flickering of a cottage fire; If to such task presumptuous thou aspire, Seek not from us the meed to warrior due:

THE VISION. Age after age has gathered son to sire,

Since our gray cliffs the din of conflict knew, Or, pealing through our vales, victorious bagles blew.

Rearing their crests amid the cloudless skics,

And darkly clustering in the pale mooliVIII.

light, " Decayed our old traditionary lore,

Toledo's holy towers and spires arise, Save where the lingering fays renew their

As from a trembling lake of silver white; ring,

Their mingled shadows intercepts the sight Br milkmaid seen beneath the hawthorn of the broad burial-ground outstretched hoar,

below, Or round the marge of Minchmore's haunted And nought disturbs the silence of the night; spring:

All sleeps in sullen shade or silver glow, Save where their legends gray-haired sher: All save the heavy swell of Teio's ceaseless herds sing,

flow. That now scarce win a listening ear but thine,

II. Of feuds obscure, and Border ravaging,

All save the rushing swell of Teio's tide, And rugged deeds recount in rugged line,

Or, distant heard, & courser's neigh 01 Of moonlight foray made on Teviot, Tweed, or

tramp Tyne.

Their changing rounds as watchful horsemen IX.

ride,

To guard the limits of King Roderick's “No! search romantic lands, where the near sun

For, through the river's night-fog rolling Gives with unstinted boon ethereal flame,

damp, Where the rude villager, his labour done,

Was mans a proud pavilion dimly seen, In verse spontaneous chants some favoured

Which glimmered back, against the moon's name;

fair lamp, Whether Olalin's charms his tribute claim,

Tissues of silk and silver twisted sheen, Her eye of diamond, and her locks of jet ;

And standards prondly pitched, and warders Or whether, kindling at the deeds of Græme,

armed between,
He sing, to wild Morisco measure set,
Old Albin's red claymore, green Erin's bayonet.

III.
X.

But of their Monarch's person keeping ward, Explore those regions, where the flinty Since last the deep-monthed bell of vespers crest

tolled, Of wild Nevada ever gleams with snows, The chosen soldiers of the royal gnard Where in the proud Alhambra's ruined breast Their post beneath the proud Cathedral Barbaric monuments of pomp repose;.

hold: Or where the banners of more ruthless foes A band unlike their Gothic sires of old, Than the fierce Moor, float o'er Toledo's Who, for the cap of steel and iron máce, fane,

Bear slender darts, and casques bedecked with From whose tall towers even now the patriot

gold, throws

While silver-studded belts their shoulders An anxious glance, to spy upon the plain

grace, The blended ranks of England, Portugal, and Where ivory quivers ring in the broad falSpain.

chion's place.

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