XLIII. << The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, The old bridegroom the old, Whose faith was kept till term and tide So punctually were told; But blessings on the warder kind Miscellanies. WAR-SONG OF THE ROYAL EDINBURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS. Nennius. Is not peace the end of arms? Caratach. Not where the cause implies a general conquest. Had we a difference with some petty isle, Or with our neighbours, Britons, for our landmarks, The taking in of some rebellious lord, Or making bead against a slight commotion, After a day of blood, peace might be argued : But where we grapple for the land we live on, The gods we worship, and, next these, our honours, It must not be.-No! as they are our foes, Let's use the peace of honour-that's fair dealing; pense. Bonduca, THE following War-song was written during the apprehension of an invasion. The corps of volunteers, to which it was addressed, was raised in 1797, consisting of gentlemen, mounted and armed at their own exIt still subsists, as the Right Troop of the Royal Mid-Lothian Light Cavalry, commanded by the Honourable Lieutenant-Colonel Dundas. The noble and constitutional measure, of arming freemen in defence of their own rights, was nowhere more succes-ful than in Edinburgh, which furnished a force of 3000 armed and disciplined volunteers, including a regiment of cavalry, from the city and county, and two corps of tillery, each capable of serving twelve guns. a force, above all others, might, in similar circumstances, be applied the exhortation of our ancient Galgacus: « Proinde ituri in aciem, et majores vestros et posteros cogitate.» To horse! to horse! the standard flies, The Gallic navy stems the seas, From high Dunedin's towers we come, Our casques the leopard's spoils surround, The Royal Colours. ar To such Though tamely crouch to Gallia's frown Their ravish'd toys though Romans mourn; And, foaming, gnaw the chain; O! had they mark'd the avenging call' Their brethren's murder gave, Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown, Nor patriot valour, desperate grown, Sought freedom in the grave! Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head, Or brook a victor's scorn? No! though destruction o'er the land For gold let Gallia's legions fight, Or plunder's bloody gain; Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw, To guard our King, to fence our Law, Nor shall their edge be vain. If ever breath of British gale Or footstep of invader rude, With rapine foul, and red with blood, Pollute our happy shore, Then farewell home! and farewell friends! Resolved, we mingle in the tide, To horse! to horse! the sabres gleam; High sounds our bugle call; The allusion is to the massacre of the Swiss Guards, on the fata! 10th August, 1792. It is painful, but not useless, to remark, that the passive temper with which the Swiss regarded the death of their Iravest countrymen, mercilessly slaughtered in discharge of their duty, encouraged and authorized the progressive injustice by which the Alps, once the s at of the most virtuous and free people upon the Continent, have, at length, been converted into the citadel of a foreign and military despot. A state degraded is half enslaved. From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn, And forth, in banded pomp and pride, They swore their bauners broad should gleam, And sooth they swore-the sun arose, A Norman horseman's curdling blood! Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toil THE LAST WORDS OF CADWALLON. AIR-Dafydd y Garreg-wen, THERE is a tradition that Dafydd y Garreg-wen, a famous Welsh Bard, being on his death-bed, called for 1 David of the white Rock. his harp, and composed the sweet melancholy air to which these verses are united, requesting that it might be performed at his funeral. DINAS EMLINN, lament, for the moment is nigh, In spring and in autumn, thy glories of shade And adieu, Dinas Emlinn! still green be thy shades, THE MAID OF TORO. O, Low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro, And weak were the whispers that waved the dark wood, All as a fair maiden, bewilder'd in sorrow, Sorely sigh'd to the breezes, and wept to the flood. « O, saints! from the mansions of bliss lowly bending; Sweet Virgin! who hearest the suppliant's cry; Now grant my petition, in anguish ascending, My Henry restore, or let Eleanor die! All distant and faint were the sounds of the battle, With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail, Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread rattle, And the chase's wild clamour, came loading the gale. Breathless she gazed on the woodlands so dreary; Slowly approaching a warrior was seen; Life's ebbing tide mark'd his footsteps so weary, Cleft was his helmet, and woe was his mien. « O, save thee, fair maid, for our armies are flying! And scarce could she hear them, benumb'd with despair: And when the sun sunk on the sweet lake of Toro, PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Hark to the summons! Come from deep glen, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one. Leave untended the herd, The flock without shelter; Leave the corpse uninterr'd, The bride at the altar; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges; Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended; Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: The Pibroch of Donald the Black. faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page, and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, NORA'S VOW. Written for Albyn's Anthology. AIR-Cha teid mis a chaoidh.' that she will not go with the Red Earl's son until the IN the original Gaelic, the lady makes protestations swan should build in the cliff, and the eagle in the lake -until one mountain should change places with another, and so forth. It is but fair to add, that there is no authority for supposing that she altered her mindexcept the vehemence of her protestation. HEAR what Highland Nora said, I would not wed the Earlie's son.>> << A maiden's vows,» old Callum spoke, << The swan,» she said, « the lake's clear breast |