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Note i. Stanza Hi.

These drew not for their Heidi the tword,
Like troaitli of a feudal lord,
Nor onn'd the patriarchal claim
Of chieftain in their loader*t oane;
Adventurers they.—

The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, for military service by themselves and their tenants. The patriarchal influence exercised by the heads of clans in the Highlands and Borders was of a different nature, and sometimes at variance with feudal principles. It flowed from the fatria Potestas exercised by the chieftain, as representing the original father of the whole name, and was often obeyed in contradiction to the feudal superior. James V. seems first to have introduced, in addition to the militia furnished from these sources, the service of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a body-guard, called the Foot-Band. The satirical poet, Sir David Lindsay (or the person who wrote the prologue to his play of the « Three Estaitesn), has introduced Finlay of the Foot-Band, who, after much swaggering .upon the stage, is at length put to flight by the fool, who terrifies him by means of a sheep's skull upon a pole. I have rather chosen to give them the harsh features of the mercenary soldiers of the period, than of this Scottish Thraso. These partook of the character of the Adventurous Companions of Froissart, or the Condottieri of Italy.

One of the best and liveliest traits of such manners is the last will of a leader, called Gcoffroy Tete Noir, who having been slightly wounded in a skirmish, his intemperance brought on a mortal disease. When he found himself dying, he summoned to his bed-side the adventurers whom he commanded, and thus addressed them;

« Fayre sirs, quod Geffray, I knowc well ye have alwayes served and honoured me as men ought to serve their soveraygne and capitayne, and I shal be the gladder if ye will agre to have to your capitayne one that is descended of my blode. Behold here Aleyne Roux, my cosyn, and Peter his brother, who are men of armes and of my Mode. I require you to make Aleyne your capitayne, and to swere to him faythe, obeysaunce, love, and loyalte, here in my presence, and also to his brother: howe be it, I will that Aleyne have the soverayne charge.—Sir, quod they, we are well content, for ye hauve right well chosen. There all the companyons made liieyni servyant to Aleyne Roux and to I'etcr his brother. When all that was done, then Geffraye spake agayne, and sayd: No we, sirs, ye have obeyed to my pleasure, I canne you great lhauke; wherefore, sirs, I wyll ye have parte of that ye have hoi pen to conquere. I say unto you, tltat in yonder chest that ye sc stande yonder, therein is to the sum of xxx thousands fraukes,

—I wyll give them accordynge to my conscience. Wyll ye all be content to fulfil my testament; hove say ye!—Sir, quod they, we be ryghte well contenteto fulfyl your commaundement. Thane first, quod he, I wyll and give to the chapell of Saynt George, here in this castell, for the rcparacions thereof, a thousandc and five hundrede frankes: and I give to my loner, who hath truly served me, two thousand and live liundnxir frankes: and also I give to Aleyne Rom, your ne* cap'tayne, four thouxande frankes: also to the varieties of mycharnbre I gyve fyve hundrede frankes. To mine offycers E give a thousande and five hundrede frankes. The rest I gyve and bcquetri. as I shall show you. Ye be upon a thyrlie companyons all of one sorte: ye ought to be, brethrene, and alt of one alyaunce, without debate,ryoue, or stryffe among you. All this that I have showed yen ye shallfynde in yonder cheste. I wyllc that ye deparle all the residue equally and truelly bitweneyou thyme. And if ye be nat thus contente, but that the deulle wyll set debate bilwene you, than behoide yonder n a strong axe, breke up the coffer, and gette it who can—To these words every one ansuercd and said, Sir, aoi dere maister, we are and shall be all of oae accordc. Sir, we have so much loved and doated you, that vt will breke no coffer, nor breke no poyot of thai y» have ordayned and commanded.»—Lord Bantu Froissart.

Note 2. Stanza vi.

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp!

Get tbee au ape, and trodg* the land,

The leader of a juggler band. The jongleurs, or jugglers, as vc learn from the elaborate work of the late Mr Strutt, on the sports and pastimes of the people of England, used to call io the aid of various assistants, to render these performance* as captivating as possible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing; and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of Saint Mark's Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King Herod. In Scotland, these poor creatures seem, even at a late period, to have been bondswomen to their masters, as appears from a case reported by Fouutaiohall. « Reid the mountebank pursues Scot of Harden and his lady.for stealing away from him a little girl, called the tumbling-lassie, that danced upon his stage; and he claimed damages, and produced a contract, whereby he bought her from her mother for 3ol. Scots. But we have no slaves in ScouW. and mothers cannot sell their bairues; and phy«cw> attested, the employment of tumbling would kill her, and her joints were now grown stiff, and she decline to return; though she was at least a prentice, and » could not run away from her master: yet some ciiw Moses's law, that if a servant shelter himself with th«. against his master's cruelty, thou shall surely not deliver him up. The lords, renitente cancelUrio, J* zied Harden, on the 27th of January (ib&l).»~*oi*' Tainball's Decisions, vol. I, p. 439*

'Though less to my purpose. I cannot help policial ■ ebwastancu, respecting aoolber ot this Mr Reid's «u«danl«. "*'*\\, curred during James II. s zeal for caibolie proseljtti". ■*■ " .^ by Fountain ha II nilh dry Scottish irony. «Ja«*"V'" , „ Reid the mountebank is recelTed into the popish church, TM of his l>Ia< Lnuior.-* was persuaded 10 accept o( taplisai fw" ^ popish priests, and to turn christian papist; which was• rftrophy : be was called James, after the kinfl sad <*aa*llof. * the apostle James,*—Ibid. p. 44*>

207

The facetious qualities of the ape soon rendered him x: acceptable addition to the strolling band of the jongleur. Beu Jonson, in his splenetic introduction to iJie comedy 'of « Bartholomew Fair," is at pains to inform the audience « that he has ne'er a sword and buckler nun in his Fair, nor a juggler, with a welleducated ape, to come over the chaine for the King of England, and back again for the prince, and sit still on bii launches for the pope and the King of 3paine.»

Note 3. Stanza xiv.

Thai ttirrlog air thai peaU 00 high.
O'er LVrmld't rmce our victory.—
Striae It!

There are several instances, at least in tradition, of prnon* so much attached to particular tunes, as to fsjaire to bear them on their death-bed. Such an raedote U mentioned by the late Mr Riddel of GlcnraiH in bis collection of Border tunes, respecting an 1* ailed the « Dandling of the Bairns,» for which a rrmin Gallovidian laird is said to have evinced this •lirr.g mark of partiality. It is popularly told of a rjmoui freebooter, that he composed the tune known lute name of Macpherson's Rant while under sendee of death, and played it atthe gallows-tree. Some ;i«itrd words have been adapted to it by Burns. A amlar story is recounted of a Welch bard, who compwd and played on his death-bed the air called Dafjddy

Ctrrtjj Wen.

tut the most curious example is given by Brantome, at 1 maid of honour at the court of France, entitled, WrmoiwUe de l.imueil. « Durant sa maladie, dont file trespassa, jamais elle ne cessa, ains causa tousjours; f-r tile estoit 'forte gmnde parleuse, brocardeuse, et •wtiea et fort a propos, et tres-belle avec cela. Quand ■Sarnie sa fin fut venue, elle fit venir a soy son valet, Jinsiijue les filles de la cour en out chacune un). qui "fftoil Julien, et scavoit tres-hicn jouer du vinlon. Jam, luy dit elle, prenez vostro violon, et sonnez EcTtottsjours jusques a ce que me voyez morte (car je o» en vais) la defaite des Suisses, et le mieux que wis poorrez, et quand vous screz sur le mot, 'Tout est Ha. sonnez le par quatre ou cing fois, le plus piteu"""M que vous poorrez.' ce qui fit 1'autre, et elle-mesmc tuy aidotl de la voix, et quand ce vint 'tout est perdu,' * t< reitera par deux fois; et se lournant de I'autre "»« du chevet, elle dit a ses compagnes: 'Tout est M» a ce coup, et a bon escient;' et ainsi deceda.

i!i! ane forte joyeuse et plaisnnte. Je tiens ce conte -' *« de ses compagnes, dignes de fois, qui virent )«"t te mystere.»— OEuvres de Brantome, III. 507.

le tune to which this fair lady chose to make her •mi exit wa, composed on the defeat of the Swiss at Ji,w' The burden is quoted by Pannrgc, in "wlais, and consists of these words, imitating the nw of ihe Swiss, which is a mixture of French and Wnuan:

Tout eat Telore,

La Tiatelore,

Tool eat relore bi Gol!

Note 4. Stanza xv.

Battle of Ik-ol' on Daioo. 1 skirmish actually look place at a pass thus called '» tl» Trosachs, and closed with the remarkable in<*■» mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior "•* to the reign of James V.

« In this roughly-wooded island,' the country people secreted their wives and children, and their most valuable effects, from the rapacity of Cromwell's soldiers, during their inroad into this country, in the time of the republic. These invaders, not venturing to ascend by the ladders, along the side of the lake, took a more circuitous road, through the heart of the Trosachs, the most frequented path at that time, which penetrates the wilderness about half-way between Binean and the lake, by a tract called Yea-chilleach, or the Old Wife's Bog.

«In one of the defiles of this by-road, the men of the country at that time hung upon the rear of the invading enemy, and shot one of Cromwell's men, whose grave marks the scene of action, and gives name to that pass. > In revenge of this insult the soldiers resolved to plunder the island, to violate the women, and-put the children to death. With this brutal intention, one of the party, more expert than the rest, swam towards the island, to fetch the boat to his comrades, which had carried the women to their asylum, and lay moored in one of the creeks. His companions stood on the shore of the main-land, in full view of all that was to pass, wailing anxiously for his return with the boat. But just as the swimmer had got to the nearest point of the island, and was laying hold of a black rock, to get on shore, a heroine, who stood on the very point where he meant to land, hastily snatching a dagger from below her apron, with one stroke severed his head from the body. His party seeing this disaster, and relinquishing all future hope of revenge or conquest, made the best of their way out of their perilous situation This amazon's great-grandsou lives at Bridge of Turk, who, besides others, attests the anecdote. »—Sketch of tlte Scenery near Callender. Stirling, 1806, p. 20. I have only to add to this account that the heroine's name was Helen Stuart.

Note 5. Stanza xxvi.
Aad Smmdouo'a knlgbt la Scollaad'i king-.

This discovery will probably remind ihe reader of the beautiful Arabian tale of 17 Bondocani. Yet the incident is not borrowed from that elegant story, but from Scottish tradition. James V., of whom we are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevolent intentions often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, siuce, from his anxious attention to the interests of the lower and most oppressed class of his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly termed the King of the Commons. For the purpose of seeing that justice was regularly administered, and frequently from the less justifiable motive of gallantry, he used to Iraverse the vicinage of his several palaces in various disguises. The two excellent comic songs, entitled « The Gaberlunzie Man,» and « We'll gac nae mair a roving,, are said to have been founded upon the success of his amorous adventures when travelling in the disguise of a beggar. The latter is perhaps the best comic ballad in any language.

Another adventure, which had nearly cost James his life, is said to have taken place at the village of Cramond, near Edinburgh, where he had rendered his addresses acceptable to a pretty girl of the lower rank.

1 Tbat at the eastern extremity of Loch Katrine, to often ■<*lloned Id tbo lest. s Beallacb au Uuine.

Four or five persons, whether relations or lovers of his mistress is uncertain, beset the disguised monarch, as he returned from his rendezvous. Naturally gallant, and an admirable master of his weapon, the king took post on the high and narrow bridge over the Almond river, and defended himself bravely with his sword. A peasant, who was threshing in a neighbouring barn, came out upon the noise, and, whether moved by compassion or by natural gallantry, took the weaker side, and laid about with his flail so effectually, as to disperse the assailants, well threshed, even according to the letter. He then conducted the king into his barn, where his guest requested a basin and towel, to remove the stains of the broil. This being procured with difficulty, James employed himself in learning what was the summit of his deliverer's earthly wishes, and found that they were bounded by the desire of possessing, in property, the farm of Braehead, upon which he laboured as a bondsman The lands chanced to belong to the crown: and James directed him to come to the palace of Holyrood, and enquire for the Gudeman (i. e. farmer) of Ballanguich, a name by which he was known in his excursions, and which answered to the II Bondocani of Haroun Atraschid. He presented himself accordingly, and found, with due astonishment, that he had saved his monarch's life, and that he was to be gratified with a crown-charter of the lands of Braehead, under the service of presenting an ewer, basin, and towel, for the king to wash his hands, when he shall happen to pass the Bridge of Cramond. This person was ancestor of the Howisons of Braehead, in Mid-Lothian, a respectable family, who continue to hold the lauds (now passed into the female line) under the same tenure.

Another of James's frolics is thus narrated by Mr Campbell, from the Statistical Account. « Being once benighted when out a-huntiug, and separated from his attendants, he happened to enter a collage in the midst of a moor, at the foot of the Ochil hills, near Alloa, where, unknown, he was kindly received. In order to regale their unexpected guest, Ihe gudeman (e. i. landlord, farmer,) desired the gudewife to fetch the hen that roosted nearest the cock, which is always the plumpest, for the stranger's supper. The king highly pleased with his night's lodging and hospitable entertainment, told mine host, at parting, that he should be j;!-nl to return his civility, and requested that the first lime he came to Stirling he would call at the castle, and enquire for the gudeman of Bnllenguich. Donaldson, the landlord, did not fail to call on the gudeman of Bnllenguuh, when his astonishment at finding that tlie king had been his guest afforded no small amusement to the merry monarch and his cour tiers; and, to carry on the pleasantry, he was (hence forth designated by James with the title of King of the Mnors, which name and designation have descended from father to son ever since, and they have continued in possession of the identical spot, the property of Mr Krakiur of Mar, till very lately, when this gentleman, with reluctance, turned out the descendant and representative of the King of the Moors, on account of hi* majesty's invincible indolence, and great dislike to reform or innovation of auy kind, although, from the spirited example of his neighbour tenauts on the same estate, he is convinced similar exertion would promote his adtautagc.it

The author requests permission yet farther to verify the subject of his poem, by an extract from the genealogical work of Buchanan of Auchmar, upon Scottish surnames.

« This John Buchanan of Auchmar and Arnpryor was afterwards termed King of Kippen,' upon the fallowing account: King James V., a very sociable, debonair prince, residing at Stirling, in Buchanan of Arnpryor's time, carriers were very frequently pasting along the common road, beiog near Arnpryor's house, with necessaries for the use of the king's family; and he, having some extraordinary occasion, ordered one of these carriers to leave his load at his home, and he would pay him for it; which the carrier refused to do, telling him he was the king's carrier, and his load for his majesty's use; to which Arnpryor seemed to have small regard, compelling the carrier, in the end, to leave his load; telling him, if King James was king of Scotland, he was king of Kippen, so that it was reasonable he should share with his neighbour king in some of these loads, so frequently carried that road. The carrier representing this usage, and telling the storv, as Arnpryor spoke it, to some of the king* servants it came at length to his majesty's ears, who, shortly thereafter, with a few attendants, came to visit tu> neighbour king, who was in the mean lime at dinner. King James having sent a servant to demand access, was denied the same by a tall fellow with a battleaxe, who stood porter at the gate, telling, there could be no access till dinner was over. This answer not utt>fyingthe king, he scut to demand access a second itm-; upon which he was desired by the porter to desist, otherwise he would find cause to repent bis rudeness. Ills majesty finding this method would not do, desired the porter to tell his master that the good man of Ballageigh desired to speak with the king of Kippen. The porter telling Arnpryor so much, he, in all huml4< manner, came and received the king, and baring eatertaiued him with much sumptuonsness and jollity, became so agreeable to King James, that he allowed htm to take so much of any provision he found carrying that road as he hid occasion for; and seeing be made the 6rst visit, desired Arnpryor in a few days to return him a second to Stirling, which he performed, ami continued in very much favour with the kinp. always thereafter being termed kiug of Kippen while be I lived.»—BuctUNA.Vs Etsay upon tiie Family of BwHm- , nan, Edin. 177S 6vo. p. 7^

The readers of Ariosto must give credit for the %m*~ able features with which he is represented, since he e generally considered as the [prototype of Zcrbino, tiw most interesting hero of the Orlando Farioso.

Note 6. StanzaJrtviii.

—^—— Si 11 lin,,':. Tower

Of von- ih« name of Sotmdonn (Uimi.

William of Worcester, who wrote about the rntdkiV of the fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle Snowdouv Sir David Lindsay bestows the same epithet his Complaint of the I'apiug.

Adieu. Uir SocwdMn, Wllh Iky Umrn alga.
Thy <.hfl|>el-rojaJ, park. «n<l uMe rmia*l:
May, June, and July, wovld 1 dwell tn uteo.
Were I a man, lo bear ihe Mrclj* •ouril,
W bilk duth ttgain' thy royal cock rvbovad.

< A mall JUlriet of rVrUtthlf*.

Mr Chalmers, to his late excellent edition of Sir fond Lindsay's works, has refuted (lip cliimerir.il dentition of Snawdonn from snedding, or rutting. It iti probaLly derived from the romantic legend which fl?QOfcted Stirling with King Arthur, to which the nrfition of the Round Table gives countenance. The r>B{; within which justs were formerly practised, in the a-tle park, is still called the Hound Tabic. Snawir&n is the official title of one of the Scottish heralds, vbiw* epithets seem in all countries to have been fantastically adopted from ancient history or romance.

It appears from the preceding note, that the seal uHie by which James was actually distinguished in

Iris private excursion*, was the Goodman of Dalleuguich; derived from a steep pass leading up to the Castle of Stirling, so called, hut the epithet would not have suited poetry, and would besides at once, and prematurely, have announced the plot to many of my countrymen, among whom the traditional stories above mentioned are still current.

The Author has to apologise for the inadvertent appropriation of a whole line from the tragedy of Douglas,

■ I bold lb* Srel who Mr!km, my toe..

A POEM,
IN SIX CANTOS.

TO JOHN B. S. MORRITT. ESQ.
Cfcie iJorm,

TH1! sr.ENR OF WHICH IS LAID IN HIS BEAUTIFUL DEMESNE OF ROKEBT,
IS INSCRIBED, IN TOKEN OF SINCERE FRIENDSHIP,

BY WALTER SCOTT.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Tse Scene of the Poem is laid at Rokeby, near '^eta-bridge, in Yorkshire, and shifts to the adjacent fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that nnnirr.

The time occupied by the Action is a space of Five Dw, Three of which are supposed to elapse between thread of the Fifth and beginning of the Sixth Canto.

The date of the supposed events is immediately subsojttent to the great Battle of Marston-moor, 3d July, j 1644. This period of public confusion has been chosen, ! »itbaat any purpose of combining the Fable with the Hilary or Political Events of the Civil War, but only as ^'fording a degree of probability to the Fictitious Narr»ii»e Dow presented to the Public.

ROKEBY.

CANTO I.

1.

Tar. moon is in her summer glow.

But hoarse aud high the breezes blow,

And, racking o'er her face, the cloud

Varies the tincture of her shroud;

du Barnard's towers, aud Tees's stream, (0

She changes As a guilty dream,

When conscience, with remorse and fear,
Goads sleeping fancy's wild career.
Her light scero'd now the blush of shame,
Seem'd now tierce anger's darker flame,
Shifting that shade, to come and go,
Like apprehension's hurried glow;
Then sorrow's livery dims the air,
And dies in darkness, like despair.
Such varied hues the warder sees
Reflected from the woodlaud Tecs,
Then from old Ballot's tower looks forth,
Sees the clouds mustering in the north,
Hears, upon turret-roof and wall,
By fits the plashing rain-drop fall,
Lists to the breeze's boding sound,
And wraps his shaggy mantle round.

Those towers, which in the changeful glean
Throw murky shadows on the stream,
Those towers of Barnard hold a guest,
The emotions of whose troubled breast,
Tn wild and strange confusion driven,
Rival the flitting rack of heaven.
rlre sleep stern Oswald's senses tied,
Oft had he changed his weary side,
Composed his limbs, and vainly sought
By effort strong to banish thought.
Sleep came at length, but with a (rain
Of feelings true aud fancies vain,
Mingling, iu wild disorder cast,
The expected future with the past.

Conscience, anticipating lime,
Already rues the unacted crime,
And calls her furies forth lo shake
The sounding scourge and hissing snake;
While her poor victim's outward throes
Bear witness to his mental woes,
And show what Icssob may be read
Beside a sinner's restless bed.

III.
Thus Oswald's labouring"feelings trace
Strange changes in his sleeping face,
Rapid and ominous as these
With which the moon-heams tinge the Tees.
There might be seen of shame the blush,
There anger's dark and fiercer flush,
While the perturbed sleepers hand
Scem'd grasping dagger-knife or brand.
Relax'd that grasp, the heavy sigh,
The tear in the half-opeuing eye,
The pallid cheek and brow, confessd
That grief was busy in his breast;
Nor paused that mood—a sudden start
Impel Id the life-blood from the heart;
Features convulsed, and muitcriugs dread,
Show terror reigns in sorrow's stead;
That pang the painful slumber broke,
And Oswald, with a start, awoke.

IV.

He woke, and fcar'd agaiu to close
His eye-lids in such dire repose;
He woke,— to watch the lamp, and tell
From hour to hour the castle-bell,
Or listen to the owlet's cry,
Or the sad breeze that whistles by,
Or cauli, by tits, the tuneless rhyme
With which the warder cheats the time,
And envying think how, when the sun
Bids the poor soldier's watch be done,
Couch'd on bis straw, and fancy-free.
He sleeps like careless infancy.

V.
Far townward sounds a distant tread.
And Oswald, starting from bis bed,
Hath caught it, though no human ear,
Unsharpen'd by revenge and fear.
Could e'er distinguish horse's clank, (2)
Until it rcach'd the castle-bank.
Now nigh and plain the sound appears,
The warder's challenge now he hears.
Then clanking chains and levers tell,
That o'er the moat the draw-bridge fell.
And, in the castle-court below,
Voices are heard, and torches glow,
As marshalling the stranger's way,
Straight for the room where Oswald lay;
The cry was,—« Tidings from the host,
Of weight—a messenger comes post."—
Stifling the tumult of his breast,
His answer Oswald thus express'd—
« Bring food and wine, and trim the tire;
Admit the stranger, and retire.»—

VI.
The stranger came with heavy stride:
The morions plumes his visage hide.

And the, buff coat, in ample fold.

Mantles bis form's gigantic mould. (3)

Full slender answer deigned he

To Oswald's anxious courtesy,

lint mark'd, by a disdainful smile.

He saw aod scorn'd the petty wile,

When Oswald changed the torch's place.

Anxious that on the soldier's face

Its partial lustre might be thrown,

To show his looks, yet hide his own.

His guest, the while, laid slow aside

The ponderous cloak of tough bull's hide.

And to the lurch glanced broad and clear

The corslet of a cuirassier.

Then from his brows the casque he drew.

And from the dank plume dash'd the dew.

From gloves of mail relieved his hands.

And spread them lo the kindling brands,

And, turning to the genial board.

Without a health, or pledge, or word

Of meet and social reverence said.

Deeply he drank, and fiercely fed;

As free from ceremony's sway,

As famish'd wolf that tears his prey. •

VII.
With deep impatience, tinged with fear.
His host beheld him gorge his cheer.
And quaff the full carouse, that lent
His brow a fiercer hardiment.
Now Oswald stood a space aside.
Now paced the room with hasty stride.
In feverish agony to learn
Tidings of deep and dread concern,
Cursing each moment that his guest
Protracted o'er his ruffian feast.
Yet, viewing with alarm, at last,
The end of that uncouth repast,
Almost be seem'd their haste to rue.
As, at bis sign, bis train withdrew,
And left him with the stranger, free
To question of his mystery.
Then did his silence long proclaim
A struggle between fear and shame.

VIII.

Much in the stranger's mien appears, To justify suspicious fears. On his dark face a scorching clime. And toil, bad done the work of time, (4) Roughen'd the brow, the temples bared. And sable hairs with silver sliared. Yet left—what age alone could tame— The Hp of pride, the eye of flame, The full-drawn lip that upward -curl'd. The eye, that seem'd to scorn the world. That lip had terror never blanch'd; Ne'er in that eye had tear-drop queneb'd The flash severe of swarthy glow. That mock'd at pain, and knew not woe; Inured to danger's direst form, Tornado and earthquake, flood and storm. Death had be seen by sudden blow. By wasting plague, by tortures slow, ; by mine or breach, by steel or ball,

Kjcwall his sb.ipcs, a:id scorn'd them all.

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